#I don't know how light I need to tread

[intromortal]

⟢ like it when i call you daddy? ⸝⸝⸝ yang jungwon

oops! your boyfriend finds out you have a raging daddy kink. but he's more than happy to indulge you

this work contains ⋆ smut ⋆ minors do not interact ⋆ daddy kink duh ⋆ shy reader ⋆ menace jungwon ⋆ fingering ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ slight edging ⋆ praise ⋆ brief cockwarming

length ⋆ drabble ⸻ 3.5k words

✷ NIA — barely proofread pls it's 2 am bear with me. i was supposed to finish this yesterday but then someone tried to break into my apartment. hope your weekend was better than mine!

Uh oh. You know that look.

The look Jungwon gives you only when you're in real deep shit, the one that tells you he's not letting you off the hook or negotiating with you no matter what.

It's almost mean in the way only bright and soft eyes can be, like they're not meant to shape into anything that isn't cutesy. It's like he's scrutinizing your eyes as if they were little windows to your soul, no curtains blocking the light shining in. It's a look you've come to assume means 'danger ahead! Tread carefully.'

Mostly because if there's anything Jungwon hates, it has to be you hiding stuff from him. Whether it's silly things like the paper cut you got at work the day before, or how your tires need to be changed—you can handle that yourself just alright, but Jungwon wants to do it all for you—or the bigger, scarier stuff like doubt poking your chest when you spiral thinking about your future, unsure of what your place in the world is supposed to be, or if you have one at all. He hates it all. He wants you to rely on him, open up both your mind and heart to let him in. It's not a matter of needing him, Jungwon knows you're more than capable of doing it all yourself, you've done just that your entire life.

But that's all the more reason to rely on him if you ask him.

He wants to be your rock, your superhero in spandex like the ones you always make fun of when it's a Friday night and older Marvel movies are all that's playing on TV—he thinks being made fun of is okay as long as you're the one laughing. He wants to be your safe haven. A place where you walk in and feel the heaviness dissolve off your shoulders. He wants to be your home.

You shouldn't have to worry about anything because you've worried yourself sick over other people all your life, he needs to be your break.

Jungwon is your judgment free zone, he knows all your deepest secrets, no matter how embarrassing. He checks for spots you can't quite reach when you think something is off with your body—and he tells you that no, it's not a terminal illness, you'll be fine—no matter how disgusting. He has seen you dazed, hair messy and eyeliner somehow down to your cheeks after a night out. Even washed your face for you when you couldn't and patiently did your skincare because he knew you would complain about your skin feeling dry in the morning otherwise. He has made love to you in every way, in every position, no matter how unflattering. And he still loves you, still thinks you're the most gorgeous being walking on the sun dried tufts of grass that make up Earth. Though if you ask him, the sun is all the way down here and not up in the sky anymore, the one there is just a less impressive copy.

So when you keep things from him, it stings extra.

You lay underneath him, eyes as big as a fawn, staring right up into his scrutinizing gaze. And he's giving you that look, so you might as well start praying up to anyone who will listen.

"Oh? You like that?" Jungwon's hand slides under your shirt, slowly caressing the skin it was just tickling mercilessly moments ago. "Now, that's new. How come you didn't let me in your little secret until now, mhh?"

You don't really have a top 5 worst ways in which your boyfriend could find out you have an embarrassing, raging daddy kink, but if you had one, you imagine 'whimpering after he jokingly says 'be still and good for daddy' while play fighting' would be up there at the top.

"I… uhm. I don't….?" It sounds more like a question than anything else, and the wicked grin overtaking Jungwon's face only makes you want to shrink back into the mattress further.

He looks to the side, shaking his head slightly as his tongue pokes out between his teeth. The corners of his mouth are upturned, but it's not warm or playful like his smile usually is—it doesn't make the sides of his eyes crinkle like you love.

If keeping things from him is a no-go, outright lying might be ten times worse.

So, you bargain. "It's just… you know. Took me by surprise. You don't seem the type of—"

Your sentence is interrupted by a squeal of surprise as he grabs your thigh and drags you down the bed, crawling over you possessively. He reaches for your arm, bringing it to his lips so he can trail his way down with soft kisses, so unlike the energy emanating from him. He kisses your palm sweetly, it makes your head spin like you've been thrown off your balance. "I'm not the type to?"

He's encouraging you to finish your thought, but you have half the idea that by doing that, you'll only dig your grave further, so you choose silence.

"That's what I thought." Jungwon bends down, gaze still boring into your eyes and mouth hovering so close to yours you can feel the words before you can hear them. "I'm the type to do everything for you. I thought you knew by now."

Of course, you do. He makes it pretty clear every waking hour of the day. But the little title that has heat rushing right to your cheeks just thinking about it, is something you never found the courage to be open about, even to Jungwon. As silly as it sounds, the thought of giving someone else so much power, complete control over you feels impossible, even when it's what your deepest and most hidden self craves most.

"I know. It just felt silly and—oh."

"Keep talking. Don't let me stop you." Jungwon noses the skin of your neck, taking in your scent like he might forget it if he doesn't, like it's the last chance he has to do so. Jungwon's love is often like this, given to you in subtle but passionate gestures, ones he bestows onto you as if he might bleed out if he doesn't.

Your insides stir, heavy and hot in your lower stomach and the air almost feels too thick to breathe in, but you push through. Even when Jungwon's hand slides lower and lower until it reaches your shorts—if you can even call them that. "I thought, what if you don't like it. What if it makes me seem weird."

"I like what you like." You visibly shiver when he speaks into your ear, the warmth of his breath ticklish. He gently nibs the shell of your ear.

"But what if—"

"No what ifs, pretty girl. What you want, I give you. What you dream of, I give you." He looks down at you, his elbow bent to support his head. "Your deepest fantasies, I fulfill. Is that clear?"

You nod, looking at him with such sincerity and vulnerability in your eyes he almost coos at the sight.

"Good girl." Jungwon kisses your temple, and you don't know if it's the action itself or the praise, or maybe a little bit of both, but your muscles are more relaxed and your chest feels all fuzzy. The hand playing with the waistband of your shorts finally slides to cup your heat through your panties, his dainty but long fingers molding perfectly to your mound. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, gently smiling into the little nibbles he teases your skin with. They're hardly painful, his teeth not leaving marks behind. Not that they need to, your form quivering underneath his body is already enough. "Let daddy take care of his baby, yeah?"

You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by the effects his words have on you. It only spurs Jungwon further though, because soon his hand is pulling your completely soaked panties to the side, slowly teasing your folds with his digits. "You're all shy, but she's so happy to see me." He smiles against your cheek, then dips down to litter your neck in open mouthed kisses, happily sighing when you adjust yourself to give him easier access.

"You're so lame," you say from behind your hand still covering your face.

"Oh baby, don't be jealous. You're both my princesses." Jungwon finally dips his fingers lower, teasing your dripping hole slowly with just the tips. He collects the wetness seeping out of you and spreads it all over your pussy, not even trying to dull the obscene sounds his action make. "You're so fucking wet, it's like she's talking back to me," he slurs his words, quiet as to not interrupt the ones coming from below. "And you wanted to deprive me of this?"

He keeps playing with you, relishing in the little sounds both you and your pussy make. His fingers move slowly, deliberately avoiding your clit.

"Jungwon, please," you whine, but the way his lips shape into a grin you can quite literally feel against your neck tells you he wants something from you first. And you have an idea of what it is.

"Wrong name, try again."

Of course.

You're not ready to give in yet though, so you decide to push his buttons for a little longer. "Please?"

The last thing you hear before Jungwon yanks his hand out of your shorts, much to your despair, is a venomous tch that has you seriously reconsider your previous actions. You know him well, so you know if you want to come you're gonna have to abide by his rules. Still, that doesn't stop embarrassment from growing in your stomach more, and more.

His movements are a lot less careful, making quick work of his fitted shirt and sweats, his boxers coming right off with them. Maybe it's the sight of his leaking cock, standing tall and angry against his lower abdomen, or maybe it's just wishful thinking, but despite your mind knowing better, your heart hopes for a few seconds that maybe, just maybe, you have irritated him past the point of punishment.

Jungwon grabs your shorts and panties, sliding them off your legs with a single movement and discards them somewhere on the hardwood floor of your room. It's fast and unceremonious, but the second his warm hand touches your thigh again you understand you got it all wrong. "That's okay. If you're too shy to call me daddy, I'll just have to fuck the shyness out of you."

You mewl when his hands slide up to the back of your knees, pushing them against your chest. The position is a little awkward, but you believe that's exactly what Jungwon is going for. "Here, hold your own legs up like this. Yeah, exactly like that. See? You can be good when you wanna be."

The stretch in your thighs burns, but it's close to nothing when the realization that Jungwon is making you hold onto your legs so you can't hide your face anymore sets in. Sneaky.

Jungwon, on the other hand, admires you with no reservation. Your cunt is completely exposed, like you've handed it to him on a silver platter, and now you have nowhere to hide. He has half a mind to sink down on his knees in front of the bed and eat you out until you're raw and cannot physically come anymore, but he said he would fuck you and he keeps his promises. Besides, he wants to see your face when you finally give in and call him daddy for the first time.

His knees dip into the mattress, the bed creaking with the weight put on it, but your own heartbeat thumps so loud in your ears you miss it. Jungwon takes his sweet time in reaching you, nothing like the urgency in his movements when he undressed you both. He knows you're waiting with bated breath for his next step, it's just another way to punish you for your disobedience. His hands roam your naked body, and he pushes your legs into your chest further, displeased with your loosening grip on them. He gives you a wordless, pointed look, and your hands immediately hold onto the back of your thighs harder.

"Pretty," Jungwon compliments your cunt, glistening and dripping right onto the bed sheets. His gaze is carefully scrutinizing every single part of you, but you know better than to try to shy away. "So, so beautiful. I don't know why you wanna hide from daddy."

"I'm not hiding," you whine in protest. Because, really, you're trying your best not to.

He grabs his length, leaking precum at the thick tip. You want to get a better look at it, so you try to take a peek, your back falling on the mattress again after a mere moment of struggle. That earns an airy, honest giggle from Jungwon, and it has your insides fluttering. It's so easy for him to get a reaction out of you, whatever he does makes you all tingly, whether it's because of fondness or lust. And by the quick look you got at his cock he's not much better off, you can't recall a time you have seen him this red and wet, ready to be inside you from just a little kissing and touching. Which is saying a lot, because Jungwon gets flushed quite easily.

The thought makes you feel a little less embarrassed.

Jungwon taps his cock on your clit a few times, each one sending a jolt of pleasure right through your spine. That tiny amount of stimulation is all he gives to your poor neglected bundle of nerves, and he moves his thick tip downwards, rubbing it repeatedly between your folds. All you can do is throw your head back, teeth poking your bottom lip in an attempt to silence the sounds threatening to spill out of your mouth.

He sighs in delight as your juices coat him, mixing with his precum. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth twisted in a way that makes a dimple pop up on his cheek as he keeps rubbing his cock on your cunt, loving the sight of your nails digging into your thighs to leave tiny half moon indentations. Look at you doing the marking yourself.

"I already take care of you, make sure you're well rested, handle whatever I can to take the load off your shoulders," Jungwon says, never stopping his movements against your heat. "I fuck you so good all the time, take my time with your pretty pussy when I have the chance. Take such good care of you both." He falters for one second, when he accidentally lowers his tip just a smidge too much and ends up rubbing it over your clenching hole. He keeps his cock there, pushing in so slightly you almost miss it, just to take it out and repeat the motions. "I wanna be a part of all your fantasies, would do anything to make you come as hard as I can." He sinks into your heat more this time, just enough to let the stretch of his tip pushing in register for you. "So why won't you be a good girl for daddy and address me by my title? I know you want to."

Jungwon's hips slowly push his cock into you, his mouth open in a silent moan as inch by inch you welcome him into your snug cunt. He's been obsessed with the feeling of that first thrust inside you ever since the first time he slid into you, it's the one thing he always takes his time with, even when he's mad or frustrated and ready to pound into you until you can barely feel your legs anymore.

That's usually what the dangerous look he gave you earlier entails, but this time it's different. His pace doesn't suddenly increase once he fills you to the hilt, reaching so deep inside you, any more would feel like too much. He keeps it slow, but steady, enjoying the way you clench against him, enjoying the view you're giving him with your body bent to accommodate him. He fucks you deep, the position you're in allowing him to reach so deep inside you stars dance across your vision. His pelvis rubs against your clit so deliciously a tiny bit of spit dribbles down your chin from the corner of your mouth. You can feel every inch, every vein, every ridge, and it's mouthwatering.

It's so good, you can feel yourself building up to the peak you want to reach so badly in no time, forgetting why you're in the position you are in the first place.

"Jungwon—" you whine, and he stops his thrusts almost immediately, his deliciously thick length pulling all the way back, his tip the only thing left in you. The loss is unbearable, and you wiggle your hips as if to coax more of his cock back into you again, all to no avail.

"No, no, no baby, who am I?"

You feel like crying, and a single tear does slip out of your eye, gravity making it fall somewhere on the bed. Jungwon doesn't care though, not when you refuse to give him what he wants to hear.

He moves his hips teasingly, as if to bait you to give in, he fucks you gently with just the tip, over and over again, careful to not give you too much. "C'mon baby, I know you can do it."

You clench around his tip, silently begging for more. More that will never come if you don't give in, and you know it. It's on the tip of your tongue, and you want to give in so badly.

So you do. "Please, daddy."

Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but Jungwon hears you loud and clear, and it's enough for him.

His hips plunge against yours, and you gasp when you feel his thick cum fill you up so unexpectedly. He barely moves, coaxing spur after spur of seed as he empties himself inside of you. Your walls flutter against his sensitive cock, and your hips twitch when he suddenly moves his thumb over your puffy clit, rubbing rough circles on it while he keeps fucking his own cum inside you.

"Good girl, milking me dry like this, yeah baby, keep doing that." His voice is rough and thick, sending pleasure right to your belly. You feel so full, so warm, as his movements never falter, even when his cock is raw from overstimulation.

"Daddy, 'am close."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby. Coming again, need you to come too." Even more cum fills you up at the name, and when Jungwon buries himself all the way in, thumb still circling your clit, and presses down with his other hand right on the bulge on your tummy, searing white blindness hits you for a moment as you come undone around him. His moans sound beautiful as you rhythmically clench around his thickness in your ecstasy, his thumb still working you through your orgasm.

It keeps going for longer than it ever has, your toes bent as if it's the only thing keeping you grounded while waves of pleasure keep crashing through you.

Jungwon slows down, but never pulls out of you completely, keeping his cum plugged inside of you. You're not holding onto your legs anymore, and his body gives in on top of you with one last teasing thrust, crushing you a little with his weight.

"Hey," you protest, still in the process of catching your breath.

"Mhh." He nuzzles his forehead against yours, uncaring for the sweat sticking you together. "That was good."

You giggle, a light feeling washing over you, spreading from your chest to your limbs in soothing waves. "Yeah, I think you liked me calling you daddy a little too much."

You feel lightheaded, in a good way. And in Jungwon's arms, you know you're as safe as you could ever be. It fills your heart with longing, even if he's right there with you.

Jungwon wraps his arms around you, spinning you both around on the messy bed sheets, quickly switching up your positions so you're on top of him, your head resting right on his chest.

His heartbeat, slowly going back to being steady, gently lulls you to sleep, even when the sun outside shines in through your window and casts the shadows of the windowsill plants over the tangled mess your and Jungwon's legs make up. He kisses your forehead once, then again, slowly aligning his softening cock to slide back into you. "Maybe. You should've done that sooner."

[criminalyapping]

due for trouble | he's around

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: after a one day hiatus on this project i am back and i hope you all like it! as always if you have thoughts or opinions or ideas my asks are always open and i would love to hear from you. ok love u bye

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, age gap relationship, language, alcohol, reader has a mom

< part 4 | part 6 >

"They put it on the market for 899, when, you know, all of these houses are like, north of a million, so I talked to the realtor and was like, what? What's up with this house, you know?" your mom says into the phone.

You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. Not that you really want to change the subject, but you had just given yourself a pep talk and were about to lose your bravery.

"Hey, mom, can I change the subject?" you interrupt.

"Oh," she says, "yeah, what's going on?"

"Uh," you start, "I'm havingababy," you say in a rush.

Silence. More silence.

"Mom?" you ask.

"Sorry, what?" she finally returns. "No you're not."

That brings a chuckle out of you.

"Yes, I am." you tell her.

Even more silence.

"Oh. Uhhhhhhh, okay. Okay. What?" she stutters. "I'm sorry, with who?"

"Um, his name is Jack?" you tell her.

"Tell me more." she says.

"His name is Jack," you repeat, "he's a doctor."

"A doctor," she says, mostly to herself.

"Mm hm," you agree.

"And he's," she trails off, "... there?" she asks.

"Not right now," you answer, "but he's like, around. We went to the doctor on Thursday."

"And everything is... good?" she questions.

"Yep," you say, the awkwardness palpable.

"Okay, well, good." she forces out. "Sorry, honey, this is just..." she trails off.

You laugh, "I know,"

"Let me, I don't know, absorb." your mom says. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, for sure," you agree.

"Okay, bye honey, I love you." she says.

"Love you too." you bid goodbye, hanging up the phone.

Could have gone worse, you think.

And that's mom, crossed off the list. Your next ordeal is telling your friends, who frankly you're even more scared of because you just know that they will simply not bite their tongues and will say exactly what they're thinking.

Not wanting to deal with it in person, and maybe ensure a bit of peace after you reveal, you decide to text them. You open your group chat with the three of them and send a picture of your sonogram, quickly followed by a message.

'not taking questions at this time'

Your phone is silent for a second, before a rush of notifications fill your lock screen.

You glance at one before deciding not to interact.

'bitch what the hell'

It does pull a chuckle out of you before you turn your phone over, face down.

It's a gorgeous Saturday afternoon; Jack is sleeping off his night shift, you're on a three day streak of not throwing up, and you are in the middle of a couple of loads of laundry. Your windows are open to let in the light, and telling the important people in your life about the latest situation has you feeling like nothing can bring you down.

You eventually read through your friends' messages, all of them shocked, incredulous, and asking you questions that you don't have the answers to right now.

Your mom sends a text, one that scares you to your core.

'Houses are really expensive in Pittsburgh"

You don't reply to that one.

You do text your friends back, assuring them that yes, you're happy, and no, they don't need to come over right now. Apparently, and unfortunately for you, they all seem to be either free or canceling their plans, and before you know it, all three of them are sitting on your couch.

"How long have you known?" Jiya, your friend from work, asks.

"Um, a few weeks," you reply. You're sitting criss crossed on the floor in front of the couch, taking questions from the panel.

They're all treading and circling around the questions that they really want to ask.

"Okay fine, I'll do it," Emily, your friend you met in college, speaks up. "Who the fuck?" she asks.

You blush, "do you guys remember that guy from the bar?" you say.

"The OLD GUY?" Jada asks in a yell. Jada, Emily, and you all met in college, and Jiya had joined seamlessly when you introduced everyone after a few months of working post-grad.

You hide your head in your hands at their question, groaning out an affirmative sound into them.

"Oh, my god," Emily says, "did you tell him?"

"Yes, I've told him." you reply.

"And?" Jiya prompts.

"And what?" you say, not really wanting to continue with this line of questioning.

"Oh, my god," Emily sighs, throwing herself against the back of your couch.

"Jack is fine, we are fine, and everything is totally fine," you tell them.

"Is he your boyfriend, is he just around, what's going on with him?" Jada asks.

"I don't knowwwwww," you whine. "He's around, and he's nice and caring and asks me how I am all the time," you tell them.

Your friends stare at you with wide eyes.

"Don't give me that fucking look," you murmur.

The three of them share a look between them.

"Okay," Emily agrees, "no judgement, but it seems like you might need to have a conversation." she says.

"I don't wanna," you pout.

"Do you want us to do it for you?" Jiya smirks, snatching your phone off of the coffee table.

"No!" you scream, climbing onto the couch on top of her, reaching for your phone as she holds it up.

A terrifying game of monkey in the middle ensues, your phone being tossed around and handed off as you desperately try to get it back. It ends a few moments later as you all shake with laughter and are barely able to get words out.

You take advantage of the break and snatch your phone back from Jada, who is still crying with laughter.

"He texted me," you tell them as the laughing tapers off.

"What did he say?" Emily squeals.

"That he's on his way with stuff," you say, eyes growing wide with terror.

They share conspiratorial looks.

"When did he say this?" Jiya asks.

You gulp. "20 minutes ago."

Your friendss all cheer, reading between the lines and understanding that he would most likely be here at any time now.

You groan, collapsing on the floor in a heap.

You sit back up quickly, rushing to send him a text.

'sorry I didn't see this. my friends are here and they're monsters who will embarrass me'

He texts back quickly.

'My bad, I should have waited for a response. I just pulled up but I can go'

"He's just gonna go," you tell your friends, dissapointed for a reason that you can't quite put your finger on. Before you can text back with an apology, he sends another message.

'I can still come, though. Just to give you the stuff, it's no problem.'

You bite your lip, typing out a response.

'yeah, if you want to! you're welcome to come and say hi'

"Nevermind, I think he's coming," you tell them, to which they cheer. A second later, there's a knock at your door. You share a look with your friends before all four of you clamor towards the door. Luckily, you get there first and stand with your back against it, giving them a look.

"Be. Normal." you threaten. You point at the couch sternly and they all head back and sit down.

You take a quick breath and turn around and open the door.

"Hi," Jack greets, leaning against the frame. He leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips, catching you off guard.

His eyes flick over to the three on your couch, all smiling devilishly at him.

"Hi," he says again.

"Hi," they echo, actually being normal for once.

You step back, letting Jack in and closing the door.

"Sorry," he says, speaking towards the couch, "didn't mean to crash your party."

"No, we are so glad you're here." Jada replies. Jack laughs in response.

"Uh," he starts, quickly turning his attention back to you. "So, vitamins aren't FDA regulated and I know you're already taking some but I got these. They have some other stuff that'ss research based in them that most don't have." he says, holding out a container of vitamins.

"Aww," one of them coos quietly, before a fleshy slap noise cuts it off.

"Ow," whoever it was quietly says. You're not looking over there.

Jack does; he glances over to the couch and then back at you, smiling.

"I also got you more candies." he says, holding out a large pack of peach rings. Call you crazy, but you swear those are the only things that help the nausea.

"Thank you," you smile, taking the candies as well.

"Okay," he says, rubbing his hands over his jeans. "Well, I can go now."

Somehow, though, Jack ends up sticking around. He sits on the floor with you, drinking a watermelong White Claw that was hanging out at the back of your fridge, and manages to easily win over your friends. He has a surprising knowledge of slang terms that woo's them, not to mention his sense of humor that has them clutching their sides multiple times as the afternoon fades into the evening.

"I have to go to work," Emily eventually whines, groaning about her bartending jobs that gets her more money than any job in the field of her degree.

The other two leave with her, grinning and waving at you and Jack standing in the doorway.

"Your friends are fun." he says with a grin after you shut the door.

"It's fascinating how well you get along with a bunch of 20 somethings." you laugh.

"What can I say," he says with faux pride, "it's a gift."

tagging: @michasia24 @veggieburgerwrites @bruher @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catmomstyles3 @qardasngan @fuckalrighty @rae4725 @beebeechaos

let me know if you want on the taglist!

[onlyheluvsme]

˗ˏˋworking out w/ abby´ˎ˗

working out with your girlfriend — mdni, lowercase intended, abbyxfem!reader, fluff, the slightest of angsty abby, abby pre-golf scene ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆pls leave reqs

"fourteen" you giggle as abby came up on another push up. you currently laid underneath her as she did her daily workout. she looked too good in only a sports bra and boxers as she did her push ups in her room, how could you not want to be all over her. abby's biceps clenched as she came down again, her lips meeting yours.

"mmm... fifteen" you say as she lets out a huff of air on her come up.

"you're distracting me" she says out of breath as she comes down to kiss you for her sixteenth rep. except this time, you latch onto her neck with both your arms and wrap your legs around her waist like a koala.

"what are you doing?" she laughs, continuing her set as if you weigh nothing. your back lightly touches the mat as she comes down and lifts off with every rep.

you place light kisses along her neck, both hands moving into her messy braid. your efforts don't take long and within minutes abby is sitting up on her shins and takes two hands under your ass using one leg then the other to get up.

"no way you just did that" you say impressed. you knew your girlfriend was strong but damn.

the only answer you receive is a smack to your bum and a chuckle as she walks over to her bathroom and turns on the shower. you giggle as you stay attached to her like a koala the entire time. as the water heats abby walks over to the counter, placing your bum on the worn marble.

both her hands go to the counter, caging you in. you can't help but give her biceps a kiss, they always look extra big after she works out, glistening in her sweat. your hands roam her arms as you leave kisses along her biceps.

"when i'm back you promise you'll workout with me again?" she says into your hair, leaving soft kisses onto your head.

"or you can just stay here and we can do that everyday" you shyly look up at her, already knowing her answer and that you were treading on some very fragile waters.

you feel her stiffen against your form, the heat from the shower feeling ten times hotter.

"i need to find him. i need to find joel" she whispers in a dark tone against your head. all you can do is sigh and lift your head to look at her. both your hands come up to caress her cheeks and she leans her head into it, closing her eyes.

"i know baby, i just wish you would let me-" you're cut off by a kiss, warm and affectionate.

"you're not going anywhere near this.." she whispers against your lips,

"c'mon lets get in" she changes the subject, not in the mood to fight after nights of arguing that you wont be coming with them on their search to find joel. she always said it was too risky and she won't lose you too, end of argument.

her hands come down to your midriff to lift your tank top over your head, then to your waistband to shimmy off both your shorts and panties in one go. she then lifts her hands to her back, taking off her sports bra, getting it caught in her braid.

you let out a giggle and help her relieve herself of her bra and finally her boxers. she doesn't waste a second pulling you into her arms and under the warm water of the shower. all the tension from seconds ago gone, these were your favorite moments together, the simple and quiet ones.

with your head against her chest, arms wrapped around each other, and the warm shower water hitting your bodies, you never felt more safe. if only you could keep her here, forever in this moment.

[abby masterlist]

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run III

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Alexia Putellas x Ex!Reader

Summary: Your ex and your girlfriend spot you at the same time

You notice her too late.

You'd hoped to fade into the background.

The warm ups are still going on and the stadium is nowhere near full.

You'd spotted your girlfriend instantly, laughing with Codi and someone else that you didn't recognise - maybe the other Laia, the one that your girlfriend played with for club football but you're not certain.

They were all too far away for that.

She looks happy though, Leila that is. She's smiling and laughing and joking around with the girls.

She's not the problem here.

You'd arrived at the stadium early. You hadn't even told her that you were going to be here. You'd pulled your hoodie up like it would protect you from everything, like it could provide a big enough barrier to hide you from everyone but Leila.

You should have known it wouldn't happen like that.

You should have known that you would have been spotted.

You should have known that the one person you didn't want to see you would.

You'd be in her orbit for a while like she had been in yours. It was naïve to think she wouldn't notice you, to think that she wouldn't spot you from a mile away.

There's no one else in your section. There's no one around you.

The steward can't stop her. They don't even try.

Alexia leaps over the barrier neatly and you stare past her to see the moment Leila has realised what's happened.

"Mi vida," The words are familiar from her lips, sweet saccharine tone that you desperately try to shake off," My love. Baby."

She reaches for you and you move away.

Your hands clench into fists on your lap.

"Don't." Your voice is surprisingly strong for how much you're shaking inside.

"Mi vida, I-"

"Alexia, don't make this harder than it needs to be."

She's silent for a moment, the cogs in her brain turning ever so slowly before she tries again, slipping into the seat next to you.

"I'm sorry," She says finally," For what happened?"

You flinch, jaw clenching for a moment. You can't work out her angle - whether she's actually being truthful or if there's an ulterior motive here.

"Good," You say," You should be."

She doesn't expect that response and there's silence for a beat more before she speaks again.

"I don't know what I was thinking. It was stupid of me to do it when I knew I had you at home waiting for me."

Her intentions are still unclear and your brain scrambles to try and keep you safe, to tread this path as carefully as you can.

"Thank you," Is what you settle on," For apologising."

Her eyes light up and you know you may have mistepped.

"Mi vida, let me take you out to dinner. I'll make this-"

"Y/n."

The conversation between you and your ex has been stilted and slow. It was more than enough time for Leila to arrive. She stands in the row of seats directly in front of you.

She reaches out for your hand.

You let her take it, soft fingers brushing over your knuckles as you squeeze as tight as you dare.

"Hey." Your voice is little more than a whisper now, spine straight as you stare into your girlfriend's eyes.

She doesn't even look at Alexia, doesn't see the affronted look on her captain's face. Because she's looking at you and only looking at you.

Her gaze hasn't strayed at all. You don't think it's ever strayed from you even when you're out together on date night and girls try to worm their ways into her lap.

You're the only one Leila looks at. The only one that has Leila's undivided attention.

"Hey, beautiful," She says with that soft smile she always has when you're at her matches," I didn't expect to see you today."

Alexia melts away next to you. You don't even know if she's still there. You can't find it in yourself to care either.

The only thing that matters right now is you and Leila.

Leila, your beautiful girlfriend who loves you and has never so much as looked at another girl when she had you at home waiting for her.

"I thought it was time," You admit.

You pull your hand from Leila's and unzip your hoodie.

"I hope you don't mind," You say," I didn't want to turn up in your City jersey."

Leila's mouth goes dry all of a sudden at her name on your back. It's one thing to see it in a City shirt. It's another thing to see you wearing her Spain jersey.

"You look beautiful."

"You always say that."

"It's always true."

Your face glows with heat but you can't bring yourself to look away.

There's nothing else you can focus on but Leila. You don't know if Alexia has finally left. You don't know if the stadium is filling up or if the camera is on you and your girlfriend.

All you can do is lean forward and press your lips against Leila's.

Like you're the only two people in the world.

[en-lov3r]

Gym Buddy | Jay Park

Pairing: Jay Park x reader Genre: Smut Warnings: Sex Word Count: 2325 words

The air was humid, making you feel all sticky

It was a muggy night, the room a bit damp, you checked your phone and saw it was 11:00 pm, you figured you might as well work out at night since sleeping for the whole day, you dressed up in leggings and a hoodie, got your water bottle ready, and walked to the nearest gym

It was a breezy night, you started trudging there, still a bit groggy from your slumber and saw that the gym looked very dim, parking space unoccupied for everyone to take but with only a black sleek car with tinted windows visible at sight, nevertheless, you walked pass the car, eyeing it, then soon walked to the door

"I wonder if it's closed"

You opened it and it budged, you saw that the gym was empty, not hearing anybody, no annoying teenagers, elders complaining, and gym hunks flexing

The gym was 24/7, you never really went at night so figured there must be less people inside, some lights off and on there, it was kind of eerie, you opened the glass door and saw the front desk associate, she scanned your membership card and let you pass. You saw nobody in sight

You were happy since you never really had time for the gym, though since barely going to the gym, you never really had any motivation, but today was the day, you decided to go to the upstairs, where they had the stairwalker and bicycle and weights

You then decided to go to the bench and use the weights, each step you took filled the whole sound of the gym as it echoed. You saw a big jug of water near it and a sweat stain imprinted on the bench, it soon faded and you realized that someone probably must've left and forgot

You then took a seat after it dried and you started doing weights, you weren't sure if your form was right but you never really paid much attention, few minutes passed and you heard some footsteps, getting louder as it approached

You then got up a bit to see a tall lean figure in a black tank top, all sweaty, he looked to have an exhausted expression, squinting, his face full of sweat as it started dripping from his face, he had gray sweats on, his whole body drenched as he started to pat himself dry with a towel he had, he had his earbuds on

A bit intimidated, you started to feel a bit shy, you must've thought you occupied his space so you quickly rose and got up but he soon started to approach the spot you just were exercising at

The footsteps were getting more louder as he soon finally stopped, he looked up and down at you, knowing that he probably was looking for his water bottle, you just got up unoticingly, only until he got his left earbud out and started to speak

panting "It's fine you can exercise there, I'll just work at the next bench"

"U- Uhm you sure? I must've took your spot by accident sorry"

He nodded, still breathing heavily as he gave you the hardest look of intent, your heart started breathing, you noticed how handsome he was, his jawline captivating you, but he reeked of sweat, filling the air with a musky scent, it was really manly

You guys both then started to continue your business. He soon started to get weights and you just started to do the usual as before, you then saw him workout as he started lifting the weights with his arms, with each repetition highlighting his muscles, you started to gawk, wonder how you can build muscles like him, he noticed you catch a glare and you started to workout all weirdly, he soon noticed and glanced at you

"Do you need help?"

You reacted all quickly. Him talking to you was like a dream. Someone like you talking to a cute tall guy like him made you feel all red. But you did come to the gym for a reason, you nodded and as soon as he got up, he started slowly treading there, you kept glancing at him as he walked, his sweat dripping, his figure, you soon glared down to see his bulge, it looked real big

"I- I don't really know how to workout, I mean I just do cardio but I was thinking of gaining muscle, like yours."

"Ahh, it's real easy to be honest, but it takes time, but from here I can show you how to do a correct form" he replied

"Okay"

"Do you mind me touching you so I can give you the correct posture?" he said

"Uhm sure"

You soon felt a big sensation on your back, you twitched, his hands felt real big, kind of cold you felt through your hoodie, it was literally 1/4 the size of your back, his palm touching your back made you feel a bit wet down there, but you tried calming yourself down

"Do you mind arching your back a bit for me?" he said all huskily

"Yeah."

You followed what he said and he asked which exercise you wanted to do.

"I want to do an exercise like what you were doing."

"Oh you mean the seated arms?"

"Y- Yeah, whatever you said I don't what the name was but yeah that one"

He chuckled and grinned. You saw his smirk on his face and he made you feel horny. His handsome smile was enough to get you going as you started to follow what he said.

"Wait your doing it wrong, let me position you, do you mind me going at the back of you to spot you?"

'Sure"

He then proceeded and went at the back of you and sat down, the musky scent of his got stronger. He was mindful of where he sat on the bench and kept his space between you and him. His figure was so tall, his arms big that in the mirror you were 1/2 the size of him in comparison. You looked at the mirror on the side of you as he started to grab your weights, they felt lighter now that someone was carrying them, he started to motion you, he opened his armpits as the smell of his got even more stronger, more like an alpha, he kept opening it back and forth and so were you, you felt a bit conscious knowing maybe he can smell yours too but then realized you were wearing a hoodie.

"Maybe arch your back a bit more?

You proceeded to do so but accidentally you pushed back a bit too far that your butt touched his sweaty crotch. You felt it through your leggings. A bit soon after you were about to go move, he instantly got hard, you felt it, it started digging through your hole, it felt so good that it wasn't even real sex yet, he moaned a bit "ahhh" his sound filling your ears as he sounded so hot, you went back but knowing how good it felt, you wanted more

"I am so sorry"

"Relax, don't be" he grinned once again

He then got up and went to the front of you, you noticed his bulge got even bigger, you didn't bother to tell him in hopes you might embarass him, but he started to grab your arms once again, his grasp putting pressure on your arms as you only wished he can do more, he started to motion once again and you followed, slowly getting the hang of it

As soon as you got it. He soon propped the weights, as he was about to go back and give a response he tripped over the water bottle that you placed near you on the ground and he instantly plopped on you, his crotch now on your stomach. You were about to ask if he was okay, only until you felt the sweat from his crotch kind of dripping towards your stomach

"I'm not sorry"

"W- what?"

" I knew you wanted me to begin with, you started looking at my crotch a few times, thought I didn't notice?

You met eye contact with him as you looked up, his handsome and flirty gaze upon me as he started to slowly come towards your face, grabbed you by the face and kissed you, you also kissed him back, your lips touching with your tongues intertwining as you guys started to kiss more intensely, with your saliva mixing and dripping from your mouths

He then got up as you wanted more, he started to undress his tank top, revealing that body of his, his build looking so defined and lean, his arms looking like they've been worked out, you wanted to take in this sight more, only until he aggressively put his crotch up against the roof of your mouth

"Lick it" he said

You obeyed, You started to lick around the area so much it began to feel and look wet, it started to stain a dark grey until becoming transparent, seeing the outline of his cock, and as you kept doing so, you looked up for his approval, he nodded gently, you started to undress his grey sweatpants, just to reveal a hard long horse cock plopped against your face, the smell feeling fuzzy and hot as the aroma started getting stronger, you took initiative and started to grab it, he moaned a bit hard, as you touched his cock, feeling the sensation as it kept pulsing, you then reached it to your tongue and there he started to deepthroat you

You couldn't breathe as you started to choke and gag on his dick, tears started forming your eyes as he kept pounding your face harder and harder, each second passing by you couldn't feel oxygen reaching you, your throat felt attacked, felt like it was going to create a bigger orifice than it already was to begin with inside, he was enjoying it, smiling, he kept moaning, he looked like he felt good, you were giving him all your pleasure

"F-fuck!"

He then took his schlong out your throat, you then started to breathe, still catching your breath, he took a step out, jerking his cock even more, you took a quick glance of him from head to toe in his naked body, he looked so fucking good, his abs looked even hot as he was naked in all except for his white nike socks, he seemed like a stallion right now, he kept jerking it in front of you, looking at you enticingly, hearing the stickiness of your saliva on the palm of his hands as he then interrupted the moment

"Move."

You obeyed, your sweat stain visibly was stained there but he then plopped down, knowing this he probably will create an even more sweat stain, he started to manspread, arms out, inviting you to his cock, he got up a bit and stared down menacingly at you, coaxing to go down your knees.

You soon followed, met eye contact with him as you soon touched your dainty hands with his cock, his body trembling, his cock throbbing in your hands, his cock needed to be sucked, he was panting through it, like a dog in heat, he was feeling pantless

You started to grab his cock and put it inside of your mouth, his head titled back in ecstasy

"Fuck just like that, just like that baby"

You knew his cock probably felt warm inside of your mouth, his body started to tense, so were his abs as you knew he was going to reach climax, you started sucking even harder and more harder than the last time, he tensed real hard he started to flex, his cock started pulsating even more as he began to shoot it up your throat "Oh f- fuckkk" his warm salty thick cum reaching down your throat, you soon proceeded to swallow it all, more spilling down your throat, he groaned, can't believe how good it was to cum inside your mouth, it was all good to be true

His cock still felt hard as it kept throbbing in your mouth, your mouth falls open with his cum still leaking out of your mouth, you knew it tasted salty but good, you twitched once again down there. You smiled and looked at him, he smiled back and chuckled. You couldn't believe it as it was such a hot moment for the both of you.

"Another round?"

"Yes please"

You guys soon had another round. His expression looked intense eye at your every move. He didn't care if he was overpleasuring himself but he knew he wanted to use your body. You started to take off your clothes and revealed it all, his eyes dilated and he began to gawk at your naked body.

"You look so good baby damn, I can't wait to fuck you"

He began starting to lick at your hole, you let out a moan as you knew it felt so good. You were worried you were going to hit an orgasm, his tongue felt so good. You felt so pleasured. His tongue kept going inside of that hole, felt as if he was thrusting his cock but it wasn't his cock. He kept sucking and sucking, your chest pounding . You then glanced upside down at him, seeing he was licking your ass, but knowing you looked like a dog right now, you saw his cock, it was still rock hard, you saw it and it looked as if he was fucking the air slowly, up and down, he ready for you to be fucked with that schlong of his

"You ready baby?

"Mhm."

He got up, he towered over you, your back touched with his crotch as you gasped, he started rubbing his cock over your ass, you couldn't wait to be fucked. It felt so long and big, he kept doing it repeatedly and slowly, moaning with every second, he grabbed you by the neck and whispered in your ear. "Be ready to be fucked" Your ear felt overstimulated as the sensation went down your spine. You knew how hot this scene was as he then grabbed you by the waist, his hands encapsulating it, you squirmed as you felt your hole being entered by his cock, he started to slowly enter, you couldn't help as you loved every second of this moment, your chest pounding as you licked the corner of your mouth, still tasting the salty cum residue of his

"FUCKKKKkkk!"

You moaned so hard. He kept mercilessly pounding your hole, You were loving it every second. It felt too good to be true. "Oh shitt" You looked in the mirror and you saw his eyes, they started to roll back as he kept fucking your warm squishy insides. Your organs felt impaled, You knew he was going to leave a gaping hole in your ass. You started to clench every harder as it started to wrap around his cock, he kept grunting, his jaw clenching, smacking his body against your ass, you started to sweat even more, you feel him inside you, you wanted him to cum so bad you started to sway your hips back and forth, he twitched, he felt so good in the moment he started to fuck really hard, your body started to tremble, you couldn't take it anymore as you wanted his cum so bad

"C'mon, fucking cum you hot stallion"

"Oh yes, baby, this is all for you, all for you"

He started to fuck even harder. You guys panting like dogs running out of water, you both were reaching climax. He started hitting at your spot real hard, you felt it, "Yes keep doing it like that" You then convulsed as your body started to shake "Here it comes baby!" His cum started to shoot inside, your hole being filled up, it felt so good you felt it through your stomach, you began to quiver and tremble, your ass started to shake, he gave you one last fuck before he was done, you started to convulse and you fell down the floor, his cock slip down and bounced as your ass faced up down, still twitching, and cum still dripping out your hole

He let out a sigh

"Fuck that was hot"

You were still breathing rapidly, your heart rate was going up real bad, it all felt so good, You heard him breathing too heavily but not as bad as you, You still kept panting. You saw him reach something out of his gray sweatpants, and he dropped something down at your face.

"Here you go pretty, make sure you'll be here tomorrow" he winked and smiled

He soon left and you already saw him dressed up, seeing him out of your sight as he started clanking down the stairs.

All he gave you was a card, listed was his name, phone number, with a message in red ink saying, Call me.

[girlsoutlate]

tf141 meet prices girl

part one

suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, loser simon, if you can see my favouritism for gaz no you bloody can't xx

the boys promised to be on their best behaviour to price but not to themselves. it's not everyday you get to meet your captains girl

today- well tonight was the night. you'd been psyching yourself up from wednesday, john springing the plans on you casually over breakfast. you expected it, just not so soon. all too quickly saturday night had rolled around and you were staring absentmindedly in to your wardrobe. your ever so loving boyfriend had been making fun of your hysterics all day until he became slightly concerned at your lack of appetite over dinner. you chose to nibble on two sides instead of whatever small meal you had originally planned. as you left the table and placed your plate on to the counter john grabbed you by your hips and hoisted you up "love, it's natural to be nervous but yer gettin' yerself worked up for nothin'". brushing a calloused thumb across your lips that were nibbled raw he felt you take a small breath in to talk "i know but what if something goes wrong? what if they think im too dumb for you? they won't like me". the last words out of your mouth were quiet and resolute but hung heavy in the air.

steely blue eyes never leaving yours, john spoke with reverence "sweethear' don't say tha' about yerself. i'm the lucky bastard tha' gets to be loved by you. wha' those muppets think about ya' doesn't matter, least of all to me". a small smile on your face wasn't missed as you looked down to johns hands splayed on your lap. he continued "they'll love ya', i promise- not as much as me though" a gravelly chuckle emanted from his chest. "you're beautiful, do i need to remind you again today? tha' lot will lap up any hint of kindness, so theres no reason a' all why they won't like ya". your arms wrapped around his bulking figure, pressing your face in to his defined chest you whispered "thankyou".

after finishing the rest of your food you jumped off the counter and scuttled upstairs to get ready. coming back downstairs you showed john your outfit, him grunting in appreciation whilst you did a spin, speaking about how you think you've perfected doing this hairstyle. after a silent journey you found yourself stepping out of a cab and standing in front of a pub you could only identify by name. at some point in the car ride your nerves turned to excitement and you were all to eager to meet the men your boyfriend trusted his life with. stepping in to the pub with johns large paw on the small of your back, a wave of warmth and chatter washed over you. warm lights reflecting off the red walls and oak ceiling basking you in a golden light as you scanned the pub. for a moment the hairs on the back of your neck stood as goosebumps rose across your arms; you shook off the feeling; john seemed to had spotted where his task force was, grunting in to your ear "just in tha' corner, doll" he guided you to the left.

with the soft tread of sticky carpet under your feet your eyes landed upon three men in the corner of the pub. a man with a mohawk caught your attention first, raucous laughter causing your steps to falter. lips fluttered against the shell of your ear "'m righ, behind ya", john gave a reassuring squeeze to the fat of your hip. your eyes flicked over to the man being spoken too. his brown eyes met yours, welcoming and soft yet calculating. he flashed you a dazzling smile, dimples appearing on his slim cheeks. by the time you had gotten to the table (nerves causing the journey to feel longer) all three men had their attention on you and john. "captain, nice to see you" the man with the brown eyes said, his velvety voice contrasting with johns gravelly "love, meet gaz, soap and ghost". giving a polite smile you looked them assessing, finally putting faces to what little you know. soaps eyes tracked up and down your body once, he couldn't help but take in your appearance. he knew your face was beautiful from the snooping he'd done, but god did your body live up to it. sharp blue met yours, twinkling with something. gaz pulled out a seat and gestured for you to sit down, price slipped your jacket off and put it on the back of your chair. as you settled while they greeted each other, your attention was drawn to ghost. you couldn't help but notice him.

a hulking figure in the corner of the booth, he blended in with the shadows despite the almost orange light of the pub. his balaclava was covering his whole face, bar dead eyes devoid of any emotion. as his gaze landed on you from across the table, you registered what that sudden nervous feeling was when you first stepped in to the pub. it was him. he'd watched you and john since you arrived, despite his companions remaining oblivious. you tried not to overthink it. just as you were about to tear your gaze away, his near black eyes caught yours. ghost gave you a curt not before gaz spoke to you. "its so nice to mee' you. you've been a well kept secret, eh soap?" nudging soap with his elbow, an impish grin on his face. you let out a small chuckle while soap jokes "ah dinnae know how cap' found ya", a soft rumble of a laugh reverberated from john. "yer a real bonnie lass-" soap let out a soft yelp. curiously you looked around the table and saw ghost staring at him. with a faint warmth to your cheeks you let out a small "thankyou". a voice even deeper than johns makes you slightly jump as ghost instructs "mactavish, go get tha' first round in".

after telling soap the drink of your choice you feel johns warm paw smooth up and down your leg "you alrigh', beautiful?" you nodded and replied "they're just like you said". gaz turns to you with that same dazzling smile "i'm guessing you know more about us than we do about you".

"i supposed so, john told me all about the phonecall incident". at that he turned away, hiding a bashful smile. a husky wheeze, which felt more like a vibration, came from ghost. john squeezed your thigh in hearing that. ghost remembered the day of the 'phonecall incident' well. his sergeant was practically running down the hallway, excitement coming off him in waves. as he told ghost and soap what he heard he wore a smug grinon his face- of course. for the rest of the day that's all ghost bloody heard from his sergeants, although he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. the next day the captain spoke to them about meeting his girl, so gaz felt entirely responsible for solving the 'mystery' as well as getting to meet you. when soap came with the drinks, he started a line of enquiry surrounding yours and johns relationship. his warm hand brushed against yours as he passed you your drink, lingering to ensure you had a proper grip on it.

"so how did you an' price meet? ah cannae imagine him dancing on ye at a club" your boyfriend barked out a sharp laugh. you giggled at the image, deciding he would be reminiscent of an endearing if awkward dancing bear. at the melodic sound of your laugh you caught ghosts eyes, an unreadable stare. your ability of storytelling had the boys rapt, including john who never tired of hearing your view of events. you recounted that somehow your schedules matched up, and after he helped you in an awkward situation you began to talk whenever you saw each other. soap poked fun at his captain after learning that he had a habit of stumbling over his words when asking you anything important, like when he asked you for his own number. after you had finished your anecdote soap directed another question in your direction "wha's tha' captain like? bet he's ah lovesick puppy", guffaws rounded the table. more followed when you retorted "you'd be surprised, he's like a limpet some days".

slowly but surely you grew more comfortable in the conversation, bantering back and forth with soap and gaz, laughing when john interjects about some absolutely absurd guesses about him in your relationship. naturally they ask you about work, all three being pleasantly surprised finding out you don't work a boring office job. you explained that since being with john you can have a job you can enjoy, instead of burning out constantly just to live. gaz nodded in agreement, even though john had told you he had joined the army quite young. he commented "would've probably worked in my dads business if i hadn't joined the army". you hummed in response, filing that away for later analysation, noticing his slightly furrowed brows. soap piped up from the end of the table "ah cannae say ah enjoy gettin' shot at fer a livin, but-"

"tha's enough. remember wha i said" johns gravelly voice cut soap off. it was slightly raised, sending a small shock down your spine. he rarely raised his voice at you, let alone shout. it was strange seeing that authoritative side of him seep through, though some small part of you was interested. "sorry captain" soap quickly responded, "sorry love" he added. as gaz deftly redirected the conversation you quirked an eyebrow at john. "what did you say?" you quietly enquired, picking up your drink, condensation cool against your skin. you noticed john glancing away as he cleared his throat "you shouldn't know what.. what really 'appens when i'm gone." his large hand slides up your leg and down, a soothing action. whether its for you or himself is undecided.

warmth seeps from his hand to yours, adding to the slight flush you feel throughout your body. as you finish up your drink you push your chair back, lukewarm liquid sliding down your throat. "'m gonna go to the bathroom" you quietly mumble, hand on the table for support. you briefly wait for john to follow, used to him 'keeping an eye on you' whenever you went out for drinks. but before he can, gaz stands up. "i'll go with her sir, and get the next round in". price grunts in consideration, with a near empty pint in hand "love?". your eyes flick over to gaz, noticing the light being reflected in a small stud in his ear. "sure" you reply, grabbing your bag in case you needed to fix your makeup. placing his now empty glass on the table john grumbles "keep an eye on her".

gaz guided you over to the bathrooms, his large palm hovering over the small of your back. you could feel the heat radiating off him, an accidental brush feels burning hot even through your clothes. he wasn't as tall or broad as john, but that just made his proximity to you even more apparent, he was different than what you were used to. his physique was well above average, confirmed by the bulging bicep that pulled a chair out for you earlier. his lean torso was evident, even through his baggier top. something enticing radiated off gaz, drawing your attention to him when you first sat down. at the table you noticed his eyes upon you when you spoke, even if he wasn't replying. ever attentive not just to you, but to the rest of the task force. he caught what was said under someones breath, or what was said if someone was being talked over. reaching the door he muttered "i'll be right outside, no rush". entering the bathroom you feel rather giddy that everything is going so well. apparently soap shares the same sentiment.

the remaining three men at the table watched you walk away, john noticing the sway of your hips exaggerated by your tipsy state. ghost noted the details of your outfit, and thanked his mask when he realised his gaze had drifted further south than intended. soap was practically burning holes in to the back of gaz's head, annoyed he wasn't in his place. seems as though the 'competition' to know more about you hadn't ended yet. as soon as you were out of earshot soap turned to the table with a dramatic sigh. "lord 'ave mercy price, where did ye find her? yer one lucky man". ghosts body shook slightly with mirth at johnny's theatrics, yet agreed with him "he's right, captain". john sat in silence, a small smirk growing. hearing the bathroom door open, the table watched as you and gaz walked over to the bar.

he stood slightly behind you as he ordered the drinks. with interest, john watched as his sergeant lent down and whispered something in to his girls ear that made you giggle. the apples of your cheeks were dusted with warmth as you replied with an appreciative smile. unable to hear due to a particularly rowdy group of punters, gaz leant down, motioning for you to repeat yourself. resting a hand on his defined shoulder to balance yourself you did just that. johns eyes became incredibly focused once he saw his sergeant softly brushing your hair out of his face, whispy strands tickling him. pulling away gaz laughed heartily, your face lit up at garnering such a reaction.

soap was practically smoking, itching to talk to you more. ghost and john however, watched with interest, focus never wavering. the latter two shared a glance, something vaguein both their expressions. you and gaz both returned with two drinks each, placing them on the table. the group heard a snippet of your conversation "kyle that is absolutely not true". he laughed as you you turned around back to the bar to retrieve your drink. sitting back down with an oomph, gaz remarked "her sarcasm's worse than yours lt.", wide smile on his face. snatching up his drink soap snarkily said "on a first name basis are ye?". john had never seen someone drink a pint with so much attitude. gaz replied "what? you jealous mate?" with a shit eating grin on his face. before the squabble could continue ghost cut them off with a very pointed sigh.

as soap complained about gaz 'stealing of your attention' john watched you talk with a bartender. you lent lightly on the counter, back slightly arched as you sipped on your drink. with a comically soppy look on his face john reached for his cold pint. despite being nervous tonight you had found your place amongst his men. he couldn't be happier. you conversed with the bartender like she was an old friend, john had always admired your kindness and compassion. it was nice to be looked after, though he'd never admit it. his countenance hadn't been lost on his task force. here they were watching their captain look at his girl in a lovestruck daze, completely dead to the world. the boys would've laughed in shock if they weren't genuinely happy for him. it could be said that price more so than anyone deserved to be happy- oh and if they had the chance to be in johns position, all of them would totally look at you like that too. "i really am lucky to 'ave her" john mumbled to no one in particular, yet they all heard him.

returning to the table you pressed a small kiss on prices cheek, his beard scratching your face a little. a glossy, faintly red mark was left. "y' alrigh' doll?" you nodded in response, squeezing his hand under the table. sipping your drink you carried on with whatever point you had left the conversation at. soaps petty complaints continued, "s no fair he's taken all the credit fer us meetin' yeh, 'n now he's just takin' ya!". you let out a rather boisterous laugh "i promise you'll all get a go". as you turn to look at john after hearing his exasperated sigh you missed soaps wolfish grin towards gaz. you found the formers complaining highly amusing, and so did ghost apparently. he hadn't said much apart from a grunt in agreement and, well, disagreement. but when you poked fun at soap, saying that you "didn't know the army let five year olds be sergeants", that black mass in the corner added "five year olds wiv shit 'aircuts". unfortunately for soap you burst out laughing, insisting through a fit of giggles that you thought his mohawk was incredibly beautiful. much to johns disappointment it sent soap in to a tirade of defending his 'crowning glory'. ghost would be lying if he didn't feel an odd warm feeling flood his chest at producing such visceral reaction from you.

another hour or so passes by, conversation flowing from one topic to another. letting out a small grunt john slapped his thighs and stood up "m goin' out fer a smoke, wanna come for fresh air sweet'eart?". nodding, you slipped on your jacket "could you keep an eye on my bag please? i'll be back soon". pulling your chair in kyle replied "of course, i'll look after your drink too". smiling appreciatively you turned while john guided you out of the pub. as soon as your figures disappeared into the night soap exclaimed "steamin' jesus" and ran a hand down his face. gaz nodded in agreement while ghost stared at his drink.

the three men had met a good amount of women between them, all being some degree of beautiful. a fair amount had similar ease of banter and wit as you and some could rival you in intellect. a few even had the same interests as you. the men could recognise that, yet you seemed so different from any other woman. perhaps it was because you were with their captain, but this spark was apparent in relation to no one but you. they couldn't lie a finger on it yet but they had an inkling. your compassion and sincerity. any woman could be beautiful, alluring, funny, snarky or an airhead bimbo if they wanted to. but you were so unapologetically yourself, from the clothes you wore to how you carried yourself. in a life of secrets and covert operations it was refreshing to meet someone who took pride in being themselves no matter how people reacted. you were sincere, the task force could understand why john loved you for that.

it was even more enticing that you were kind to everyone, for example that young bartender dealing with a group of rowdy punters. you didn't have to be kind, but you were. one of the things price told them about you was your kindness, only elaborating to the point that some people used it against you so "they'd better not piss about and upset his doll". this aspect of you was evident as soon as you joined their table. you made sure to address everyone and listen to what they said, simply because you cared not because it was expected. they could easily see why john loved you, to such a far extent that a small part of them was jealous. jealous that the numerous bodies that woke up beside them in the morning were gone in an hour, no one in the kitchen to share breakfast with. dinner was the same unless they went out searching for someone. the home they returned to was empty, jealous that you weren't waiting for them. with that thought ghost broke the silence between them "m goin for a fag". he left soap and gaz with the same obscure look on their face.

the cold night air enveloped ghost as he stepped outside, a welcoming change from the stuffy pub. he spotted you leant against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself, as john stood next to you. he nodded for ghost to come over. as he rolled up his balaclava and lit his cigarette you averted your gaze. you understood he wouldn't do it unless he was comfortable, but you didn't want to push your luck. noticing this, ghosts husky voice said "s alrigh'". your eyes slightly widened and you nodded. fuck. simon wanted to make you feel at ease, even tried to soften his voice. he's always had the worst luck with women out of the task force- not that he was attempting to chat you up or anything. his rather disastrous train of thought was broken with price flicking the butt of his cigarette on the floor "m goin' back inside, y' joinin' me dove?". you shook your head, drawing you coat tighter "want my head to clear up a little more, i'll be in soon". he grunted in acknowledgement, pulling you in for a kiss, the taste of sour smoke still in his mouth. it was short and sweet, but simon noticed the way your eyes fluttered at johns hand on the nape of your neck. a sharp pang was felt in simons chest. it could be jealousy, but he was well acquainted with that feeling due to the bad hand he was dealt by the universe. this was different, and simon doesn't like change. john gave ghost a stern look before he returned inside, look after her.

you and ghost stood in silence, only interrupted by a passing car or the rustle of clothes when he took another drag of his cigarette. he glanced to you, expecting to see you awkwardly looking at him or the ground, instead you were gazing at the night sky. it was a dark velvet, remarkably clear with a small sprinkling of stars. a few moments passed before you softly said "the skys pretty tonight". poor simon didn't know what to say, you seem genuinely enraptured. before he gave you his usual reply of a grunt you spoke up again "john tells me about sky he sees when he's gone, said that sometimes theres more stars than sky". ghost had heard snatches of these sporadic phonecalls, always leaving to give his captain privacy. he noticed a difference in price after each one, relaxed brows and a straighter back with a lighter mood no matter the state of the mission. now simon knows it was you making that difference. whilst a plume of smoke left his scarred mouth he turned to face you. you did the same, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "price is lucky to 'ave ya'" he quietly admitted. he left out a thought that had been rolling inside his head since first hearing you speak i would be lucky to have you too.

your eyes sparkled, the first full sentence ghost had said to you was that of approval and praise. you knew he was a lonely man, the 141 was the only semblance of family he had, so his approval meant the world to you. you reached out and gently squeezed his forearm "thankyou ghost". he simply nodded, eyes fixed upon you as you returned inside. your touch was a surprise. ghost expected himself to recoil, yet he stood incredibly still. simon knew it was a simple touch- so why did his blood run incredibly warm under your hand? electricity jolted through his skin almost painfully, despite this he wanted to feel it again. wanted to have your attention, look at him with those pretty eyes and feel himself wilt under you. wanted you to touch him again. fuck. you were his captains girl. ghost shook his head violently, it would be comical if he didn't feel so guilty. flicking his cig to the ground with spite he stalked back inside.

the topic of conversation had turned to cooking. your nose wrinkled in disgust hearing some of the food at the mess hall, wondering what possessed people to make that. soap piped up "but ahve smelt prices lunch an' its bloody delicious, did ye make it?". a collective groan rounded the table as you described the last meal you made. traditional spaghetti bolognese with pasta you made yourself. "making the pasta was a little disastrous because someone can't follow instructions". you shuddered at the thought, who knew dough was so airborne? "aye so price don't listen to ye?" soap continued in a suggestive tone. you shook your head and replied "most of the time he takes orders well, but for some reason he assumed he could cook this better than me" your suggestive language and johns red face earned peals of laughter. gaz enquired "so, is it true sir?". ashamed, john mumbled "affirmative". in false shock you exclaimed "what? that you can cook better than me, or that you take orders well?". unfortunately johns protests couldn't be heard over the laughter. the image of the captain john price being bossed around by you was hilarious, probably saluting you before mopping the floors while you lounged on the sofa.

their thoughts wandered further, wondering if price took orders well in all aspects of your relationship. you seemed like a woman that knew exactly what she wanted from the man she loved, they liked that. before their thoughts got collectively dirtier john cut them off in an accusatory tone "i've caught these lot poking around my lunch more times than i can count, 'specialy after you gave me those brownies". you were particularly stressed that week, and baked a little too many. so you packed loads for john, instructing him to give some to his task force. for the rest of that week he was begged to bring in more despite his false admission there was none left.

back at the table gaz declared "your cookin' is the best i've had in a long time, any chance of getting some more?" he wiggled his eyebrows in a bad attempt to persuade you. you beamed at his praise and awful persuasion "i normally give john any leftovers from dinner the night before for lunch, but theres hardly any- he loves to eat". john nodded in agreement "don't want any of you greedy buggers takin' my food". soap had noticed the slightly light hair on johns beard near his mouth months ago, he could already tell john loved to eat. soap downed the rest of his drink in an effort to get his brain to shut up. he almost felt bad having such depraved thoughts of his captain eating out his girl bent over the kitchen counter while he was sitting opposite them in the pub.

noticing that the tips of soaps ears were slightly pink, kyle asked you with that dazzling smile "so how would i- hypothetically- go about getting more food". catching on to what he meant you replied "well you would have to ask the hypothetical man if you were allowed over for dinner. the decision lies solely in his hypothetical hands", a drunken giggle escaping at the silliness. price grunted, weighing up the odds of letting his task force over for dinner. it wouldn't be the first time them coming to his house, but you hadn't lived there then. from the corner, ghosts voice rumbled across the table "i'd like to visit too". you looked in his direction, nodding your head in appreciation. john glanced to you and saw a large cheesy smile plastered across your face, which was replicated by both his sergeants. what has he done. you and his task force had really taking a liking to each other. "i'll think abou' it" he said with finality. you clapped your hands and gave him a big kiss on the cheek "i'll take it". a dopey smile spread across his face at the kiss.

conversation carried on for another half an hour before you let out a yawn. stretching and standing up john sighed "come on dolly its time to get you home, before you turn in to a pumpkin". as john quickly booked a cab you finished the rest of your drink. busying yourself with getting your coat on john said goodbye to his friends. even though it wasn't clear you think you heard "m so happy fer ye mate", "she's gorgeous, treat her well" and "m proud of ye". you'll live in your cloud of plausible deniability quite happily.

"ghost, ahve called ah cab fer us three. it'll be here soon" soap called out, alcohol making him forget his inside voice. kyle replied "m proud of you mate, last time you were barely upright". the melodic sound of your laughter filled their ears for the final time that night. addressing kyle first you pulled him in to a hug "it was so lovely to finally meet you kyle". his lean arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on the fat of your hip, you felt his breath on your ear "it was nice to meet you darling". kyle pulled away just before soap slightly barged past him. he swept you up in to an enthusiastic hug, chests flush together. you giggled in to his neck before a loud cough from behind you prompted him to hold you at arms length. "nice meetin' ye bonnie, when are ye next free?" before you could reply you felt a familiar arm corded with muscle hold you by the waist and pull you away. johns voice rumbled against your back as he said "mactavish you will know when we are free, if tha's alrigh' with the little lady". you nodded in agreement and replied "i'd like to see you all again, if thats okay with all of you?". the last part of your sentence was said in a mild manner.

for just a second the 141 saw a glimpse in to your second-guessing, price had told them to be extra nice to his birdie. before the sergeants could reassure you with grandeur, ghost resolutely said "of course". you beamed at all of them, teeth glinting and cheeks round, the widest and truest smile you'd worn all night. simon felt his heart swell slightly with pride, he did that. "cabs nearly here, you ready?" you nodded and waved a final time, john continued "good catchin' up with ya, see you horrible lot monday". the sergeants gave a very disorganised salute while ghost nodded his head.

stepping in to the night, a slight drizzle had started. despite that you abruptly stopped and pulled john in, cutting of his question with a kiss. you pressed your lips to his slightly harder and sloppier than you wanted in your drunk state, but john didn't seem to mind. his warm mouth opened more, bitter taste of beer on his tongue and slight scratch of his bed earning a soft moan from you. in return he gripped the fat of your hip pulling you impossibly closer, chests flush. at the whistles of onlookers you both pulled away, your eyes twinkled in the stars as a feeling of pure content filled both your bodies, "i'm so happy john". you both clumsily climbed in to cab that had pulled up beside you. your eyes were fixed upon the passing scenery outside the window and johns eyes were fixed on you. the reflection of streetlights on the droplets of the window looked like glitter, the perfect backdrop to the perfect view. sighing contently john replied "i'm 'appy too, doll".

in the other cab the rest of the 141 weren't happy, they were ecstatic. the mystery of their captains girl had finally been solved, the theories developed over their 'detective' period had been proven true or false. even ghost had joined in with the sergeants vigorous discussion about you, all singing your praises. although they had 'solved' the mystery, the new information had presented them with a new set of questions, a want to know more about yours and prices relationship. whilst discussing these questions passionately there was a thought none of them would vocalise, they wanted more of you. to spend more time around you, learn more about your likes and dislikes, get the recipe for your cooking and replicate it at home. they wanted to listen to your music and know about the memories related to each song. greedy hands grabbing at pictures of your latest holiday or your final day at school. they wanted more more more. they knew they were a bunch of greedy bastards, but john had let them at something so kind, so different, so sacred to any other woman they had met.

they knew this wasn't a normal reaction to meeting your superiors girlfriend. but years in the military caused disconnect between them and the world they couldn't quite explain. they know their eagerness is odd and unusual, but how else did price expect them to react. he had noticed the looks his task force had given each other, that had flew right over your head. not looks of malice, but something obscure and vague. like being drawn down a path despite not knowing where you may end up.

none of them knew that today had changed something within all of them, it just wasn't apparent. yet.

heloooo long awaited sequel, thankyou so much for being patient and thankyou even more for reading :)) i appreciate every single person who likes, comments, reblogs and follows!! any interaction is greatly appreciated <3

these big dumb stupid men living in my head have gotten me through my breakup. ive been feeling really bummed out so thankyou for being patient while i write this

[keelt9]

BET A MOLE, BET A KISS Pt.1

Masterlist

I have to go.” Oscar mumbles against her lips. “Sorry.” 

Y/N rolls over him sitting on his lap, with a smirk on her face. “Will you win?”

Oscar giggles, pulling her hands to his face as she gets closer.

“I will try my best.” She laughs giving him a soft peck. 

Taking time for observing him with pure adoration in her eyes.

“What?” Oscar feels shy under her scanning eyes.

Y/N lay over his chest. “How many moles do you think I can count on you?” 

Oscar laughs nodding. “Many.” He finally rolled over her one more time, standing. 

He must training.

“I guess it is something we should find out, later.” 

Y/N pulls the blankets over her, now she feels the cold of the morning; it's 5 am, and leaving her like this makes Oscar hard to move from the side of the bed.

“It's early, go back to sleep, I'll come back and pick you for breakfast, ok?”

Y/N nods, she spent the night studying for her exams, but feeling Oscar moving in the bed was enough for waking her up.

“Do you need I…” Y/N turns around without that sheepy smile.

“You're the one who's about to go training and you're asking me if I need something.” Oscar leans down, giving her another kiss, what he can say, he simply can’t resist.

“Well, you're about to become a cardiologist, that brain of yours will make us richer.” Oscar said before giving another kiss finally with a lot of effort going to change his clothes.

Y/N laughs, hard to believe no matter what Oscar always puts her on the top.

“I believe…a 100.” Y/N said with narrow eyes as she observes Oscar eating a piece of watermelon.

“What?” Oscar cleans the corner of her mouth.

“100 moles.” She clarified as Oscar scoffed, leaning back in the chair.

If she could see it, the view he has is amazing. At the back of her is the clear ocean and the blue sky as the sound of the waves is enchanting. 

He fakes pondering it. “Could be.”

Y/N nods as she gets closer to his face. “Why, suddenly, you are so curious about it?”

She chuckles, feeling shy. “Well, you remember Steven?” Oscar nods. “Well, he has a gorgeous girlfriend…”

“I can refute that, but go on.” Y/N chuckles down her face. “I think you don’t look at yourself properly or hear yourself.”

“Ok, I…” She covers her face. “Shit Oscar I lost the tread of the story.”

He adores cause that on her; there are time that between work and her degree she tends to put a lot of pressure on herself, and her bad habit of look down on her strikes without a warning. Reason why, he put that goal in his mind, every time he could, he will remember her how amazing she is. 

“Steven and his girlfriend.” Oscar helps her a little bit as he calls for the waitress. “Can we have another coulant du chocolate please?”

“You have a race in three days.” Y/N warned him.

“It’s not for me.” Oscar points to her empty plate, she loves that dessert. 

Y/N shakes her head, faking she's full, but her rosy cheeks always betray her.

“I've been eating really well, you know it.” Y/N tingles her fingers with his over the table.

“I know, however, let me spoil you a little bit.” He kissed her hand. “Besides, it's not for free.”

Oscar sides her, seeing her mouth open and eyes wide round; she knows he's playing for the way he pouts, fighting to contain a smile.

“I know, I know probably I'm asking too much, but…” He observes around the place.

Is a lovely restaurant, private; the plants falling elegantly from the cinnamon color walls, the bubbles lights on the ceiling and the fact they had the roof only for them is exceptional.

“Could you come to the race?” Oscar leans over the table, tightening the grip of his fingers around hers. “I know, I know you'll be just finishing a 36 hour shift, and I don't tend to ask this…”

The scrunch nose and her eyes avoiding his, something is going on.

“Oh no.” Y/N nods, smiling in an apologetic way.

“Sorry, I confused the days, and by the time it is supposed my call must be over, now I know: I switch the days, that day my call just barely begins.” Oscar let his shoulders drop. “Sorry, love.” She kissed his cheek. 

Oscar put out his phone calling her attention. “What are you doing?”

“Sue the hospital for stealing you from every race.” Y/N laughs. “How many have you lost…with this?”

It’s been two months that between surgeries, on calls, emergencies, each time she gets close to going to one GP together, she must stay and work.

“You know I always watch it, right?” She tilted her head. “I’ll mend it out to you.” 

Oscar looks at her, he couldn’t ever complain if she looks at him like that; those sparkling eyes and lovely smile.

“Your dessert.” The waitress announced as he switched her empty plate with a new one. 

She giggles as press her lips together excitedly, as she thanks the man.

“You’re telling me about the mole things.” Oscar gets back the conversation to the main topic.

“Oh! Yeah.” She takes a bite. “You know I won’t be able to focus as I eat, so short story.” Oscar laughs head backwards. “They bet about the total of her moles the loser would do everything the winner wants; she wins with a nice number of 37.”

Oscar keeps thinking but he won’t say it. “This is so good! You want some?” She offers him but he shakes his head.

“If I arrive at Silverstone with more than 500 grams, Zak will kick me.” He put her hair behind her shoulders to avoid getting covered in chocolate. “Still looks fantastic.” 

“It does!” Y/N hasn’t any chance to add another word, Oscar softly pulls her to him.

Capturing her upper lip between his, as he smiles for the way she’s mesmerized.

“Yeah, it tastes fantastic.” He whispers as she laughs, turning her face to the left.

“Again?” Albon asks Oscar, seeing him arrive alone; they won’t mention but some of them are wondering the same as the reporters. 

Is Y/N and he still together?

Oscar sighs standing in front of them. “A 36 on call gets in between.” Albon and Charles giggles. “However I’m preparing something for her and casually, I need your help.” 

Charles and Albon look at each other with narrow eyes; Oscar knows he needs the proper team if he wants this work.

So, who better than them?

“Doctor Bell!” Charlie is a 6 year old girl, who’s been in the hospital for more than a month under her eagle eyes. 

“Hi Charlie.” She waits for the nurse to finish her check up. “Hi, Mrs. Miles.” She greets her mother with tired eyes and a tense smile. 

Y/N checked what her record said for the last couple of days, all under control; the nurse mentioned some things before leaving them with a soft smile.

“Well Charlie, you've been doing pretty well.” The tense smile is gone in a blink. “Still, you must stay another week, ok? Nothing serious, I want to make sure before you go, all stays under control.” 

“Does she have…?” Y/N shakes her head, she knows Mrs. Miles she’s terrified of a relapse. 

“At all, she’s a warrior. That’s why…” Y/N takes something under her white coat. “I have my contacts and well, he made sure to bring this with him.”

Y/N extends a square box causing sparkling eyes on Charlie, who looks at her mother then to her, asking for some kind of permission.

“Charlie, come on! I don’t know what it is, either.” Mrs. Miles laughs. Since they arrived that afterron with the worst scenario in her mind, Y/N never left Charlie alone during all her process. 

Charlie giggles ripping the box apart for taking out a cap and a t-shirt of Ferrari. “MOM! LOOK AT THIS!” 

Charlie takes a couple of seconds to realize the autograph in both of them, letting out a loud scream that calls the attention from everyone outside of her room, Y/N must peek out to notify Charlie is fine.

“It’s Lewis's autograph, and he writes Charlie!” The little girl hugs the clothes and the cap, then pulls Y/N so she sits over the bed, huggin with all her strength. “Thank you so much Y/N! And say Oscar that thank you! This is the best gift ever.” 

Y/N watches Charlie's mom with tears in her eyes and mumbles a soft thank you.

“Well, this is for you to keep fighting ok? We’re almost out of this.” Charlie lets her go as Y/N wipes her tears. “Promise?” 

Charles nods. “Promise.”

Next morning Oscar received a video of Charlie, wearing nothing more and nothing less, a McLaren shirt with his number, thanking him and saying she’s rooting for him, still she’s a Ferrari girl.

The race was pretty clean in all the aspects, once he got the pole Saturday morning; nothing changed. 

Driving in a McLaren with clean air, is driving a rocket in the space. 

“Oscar, great race, how do you feel?” A reporter asked, seeing his happy face.

“Good, good, it’s been hard work, we had a great weekend, the only thing we had to do is settle in earlier.” Oscar smiles grow wide.

“Any special congratulations?” 

He giggles with the PR boy containing his laughs. “Well, my girlfriend… I haven’t spoken with her properly, but I already knew something from her.”

The reporter laughs seeing him so happy. “Thanks Oscar.”

He nods, walking back as he asks for his phone one more time. “Is everything?”

“Yeah, once Lando finished his round we’ll take the photo, you have a couple of minutes in case you need to make a phone call.” The guy smiles as he follows Oscar to the garage.

His eyes are stuck on the screen where one of Y/N’s friends from the hospital makes sure he has a proper angle of a 4:45 am video morning. 

She’s on the roof of the hospital, in her break, with her jacket covering her, to avoid her getting cold; the dark sky and the lights of the city are her background.

In her lap is her tablet as she probably has headphones because besides her and giggling, he can’t hear anything. 

She throws arm in the sky, pressing the tablet against her chest probably when he enters the pits, taking one glance before she finally sees it again, when he crosses the finish line, she screams in silence raising the tablet as she smiles big. 

Finally, something is audible.

“Omg, you’re out of this world.” Y/N smiles tenderly at the screen, then to her watch. “SHIT!”

Break time is over, she grabs her tablet walking to the elevator where she finally notices her friend. 

“What?” She laughs, as she keeps walking. 

“The sneaky girl strikes back.” The floor is the only thing he sees. “He won?”

Y/N scoff. “Could any other?”

“She’s so…” Oscar mumbled as he lay back in his room.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Don't Mess With The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Snippet

Twilight Masterlist Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 1.4k

Premise: Just some good ole fluff of a married vampire couple of a few dumbass teen immortals.

Note: So many people loved 'The Doctor's Wife' and asked if I could continue it! not sure if I'll make it long imagines but I definitely plan on making small snippets like this that is good ole fluff of the golden couple of the Cullens dealing with their chaotic teenage immortal children. Enjoy and thank you so much for the positive reception on my work!

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

“Honey….,” Carlisle leaned against the door of their bedroom, treading carefully on water he knew better than to cross. But their whole family dynamic was at stake and as the patriarch--and coven leader--he needed to fix it. 

Without any bloodshed.

Her glare, however, spoke against his hopes for peace. “Don’t honey me, Carlisle Cullen.” Clothes flung everywhere, the room in utter disarray contrary to its usually unkempt nature. “He is being ridiculous and you know it.” Tossing a pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps into the suitcase she gave him another look, “And yes, I know he can hear me.” Carlisle had opened his mouth, but closed it, his wife not having to the mind reader in the family to know what he was about to say. 

“You have every right to be upset. I’m not happy about the situation either, but we have to do what’s best for our family.”

Carlisle came over to where she was, beginning to pack his clothes into his own suitcase. Brushing away the stray hairs that fell from her hair scarf, Y/n’s eyes turned serious, “What happened was unfortunate--and it is a shame Bella got hurt. He’s been beating himself over it the entire weekend and I understand that, Carlisle. But what I don’t appreciate is him uprooting us and using you as the excuse.”

Following Bella’s birthday party gone wrong, Edward didn’t waste a second in making the executive decision to the family that they had to leave Forks. Saying they were a danger to Bella and to ensure her safety and no more harm comes to her as a result of his doing, they needed to remove themselves from the picture. And Edward’s genius move was to tell Bella it was because the staff at the hospital were starting to notice Carlisle’s lack of aging. 

“His concern is valid. We’ve been here four years now. It was bound to happen.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve heard people talk at the hospital?” She challenged.

“I don’t need to hear them say it aloud, Y/n,” he tells her with a knowing look. “Their stares are enough confirmation. I had one nurse ask me last week if I had a skincare routine.” His attempt at a joke doesn't work. She doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but he tries again. “Soon they’ll be asking what botox doctor I go to.”

Y/n knew Carlisle had a point. It always happened wherever they moved. They settled down, spent maybe five or six years until all the kids graduated from high school for the hundredth time, then did it all over again. If it wasn’t nosy hospital workers, it was teachers. If it wasn’t the bakery owner she frequented asking how she managed to look 27 after seven years, then it was the engineer she was collaborating with on a project. 

“It’s not fair,” she goes on, carefully folding her dress shirts, skirts, and pants. Not looking forward to having to pack up her art studio. All the supplies, artwork, and projects she was working on. “And I feel so awful for her,” her frown made his own appear, “You see the way she looks at him. It’s utter devotion, as though he was a sentient being sent from the heavens. And Edward,” her voice drops to a whisper, “he worships the ground she walks on. And this decision not only punishes her, it punishes him.”

The pair fall into a silence when the front door opens and slams shut. Edward’s lingering scent disapparating, causing Y/n to groan and place her head in her hands. The anger and not caring if her adoptive son heard her rant suddenly vanished. Replaced with shame. 

Carlisle sighs, setting down the pile of towels he folded to walk over to her. Gently grabbing her shoulders, he brings Y/n into a comforting embrace, letting his hands fall to her waist, allowing her to sink into his arms with a content hum. 

“Listen to me,” she closes her eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze where she’ll find judgement. “I sound ridiculous--and I’m being unfair to him and his feelings on the matter.”

“You care for him dearly,” Carlisle strokes her hair, “he understands that. And I think deep down he knows you’re right, but won’t admit to it because he believes he’s doing the right thing for Bella.” Carlisle leans back to look into her eyes, “Remember, he was turned at a young age--and has never experienced this type of love before. He’s learning all this for the first time.”

“I know,” she mumbles, deflated but understanding. They stayed in their embrace for a few minutes before separating to continue packing up. Edward returned later that night with brighter eyes, indicating he had fed to which resolved some of the tension between the two when they finally sat down to have the conversion they’d been dreading. Him apologizing for uprooting the family suddenly, and for the harm he was to cause Bella. And Y/n apologizing for the words she spoke before he left. They hugged it out, neither able to stay mad at the other, and Edward helped her pack the art room throughout the remainder of the night. 

The time away from Forks was odd but somewhat comforting. Carlisle and Y/n decided to spend their time on the island they owned just off the coast of Brazil. Rosalie and Emmett traveled to New York, Alice and Jasper in Mississippi and Edward in Rio de Janeiro. They spoke on the phone frequently, sent letters and postcards, or emailed. Edward would spend a night or two on the island to hunt, Y/n painted canvas after canvas, and Carlisle worked on a medical textbook he was in the process of writing.

“You hear that?” She asked one night when they were cuddling on the couch. A random movie playing on the TV.

“What?”

“It’s quiet,” she whispered, a grin spreading on her lips. “No kids. No animals. No workers. Absolute silence.” Carlisle mirrored her smile. 

“You’re right. We haven’t had complete silence in ages.”

“More like eighty years--give or take,” she snorted. 

When the shit hit the fan in Italy, Y/n nearly killed Edward herself. Not just for the danger he put himself in but for the whole family. Alice and Rosalie also met her wrath--Rosalie for not explaining clearly to Edward the vision, and Alice for dragging Bella to Italy. 

Yeah, none of them wanted the smoke. 

The sight of the three siblings sitting on the couch with their heads down and twiddling their thumbs while Y/n paced in front of them while shouting a motherly tangent had Emmett straining to hold back his laughter. Carlisle didn’t dare intervene. 

Back in Forks the family settled back into their routines. Carlisle in the hospital and Y/n working on projects. The kids in school and planning for the summer. 

Then shit hit the fan again.

This time in the form of a newborn vampire army created by the red-headed lover of the tracker they disposed of the year prior. Victoria. And she was out for revenge against Edward and Bella. 

Y/n was not the fighting type, but that didn’t mean she did not know how to throw down. She could get her hands dirty if she desired. Emmett and Jasper taught her the ropes, Edward taught her how to anticipate opponents moves. 

“C’mon old man!” she dodged Carlisle’s attack, giggling as she pivoted to kick lightly at his chest. “Don’t be getting sleepy on me now. That’s not like you.” Carlisle smirked, catching her off guard by grabbing her waist and flipping her onto the ground.

“I’d watch who you call old, sweetheart,” he mocked right as Jasper yelled, “Never turn your back on your enemy!” 

Let’s just say…they did more than spar that night once the sun went down. 

[imagintheworldaway]

Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye

this song is stuck in my head and i just had to

Requests Open

The blaring neon light of the digital clock in the lavish hotel room seemed completely out of place. 02:42 flashed in my eyes. I turned over, being met by the slumbering face of my lover. I studied his face intently. His rough stubble and messy hair look almost soft and peaceful as his large eyes stay lightly shut. A soft snore escaped his lips as he laid there sleeping. I pull the soft sheets over my naked body, my head sinking further into the pillow. I must have been staring for a while because a slight twitch of Harry's lip caused me to close my eyes, trying to pretend to be asleep. I felt the bed next to me move a little, the weight of the bed shifting as I felt Harry move out of the bed. I watch, peeking out of my eye as he shimmies on some boxers and pads towards the ensuite bathroom. 

I lay there for a few more minutes, before feeling the bed sink next to me again, and a large arm lazily lying over my waist. I fight to suppress the smile that graces my lips before hearing Harry's soft snores again. Falling back to sleep in his embrace. 

I'm awoken again by the bright alarm clock. 07:23, it now reads. I bite my lip, Harry's arm still encasing me, knowing I should go. I slowly peel Harry's arm off of me, the sheets had fallen down leaving me bare, the light morning air nipping at my body. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I let my feet rest on the cool laminate flooring. I look over my shoulder at Harry's sleeping body again before deciding to stand and gather my clothing. Picking up my white dress I lightly push it over my body, covering my once naked form. Grabbing my bag and stuffing my belongings that had been thrown all over the room, doing a mental inventory as I go. 

“What are you doing?” Harry's gravely morning voice causes me to turn suddenly and face him. He was now leaning against the headboard. His bare form covered by the plush duvet, the same one which had just been keeping me warm minutes prior. “Going home” I shrug, picking up a lipstick I saw in the middle of the rug. “I’m not doing this again” Harry says. We had started a little bit of a routine. We see each other, anywhere, anytime, have a light conversation and then I always end up, naked, straddling his waist and moaning his name, making a swift exit the next morning. The first few times Harry would beg me to stay, ask what's wrong, why am I leaving so soon when we both want me to stay. But now, he's used to the way I don't want to get attached, especially not to a man like him. 

Harry sighs, standing from the bed and treading over to me lightly, like I'm some rare animal. Through the dim light the morning sun is providing through the blinds I can see the little purple marks that have now formed on Harry's chest, the same ones I leave every time we do this. “Take off your dress, stay for a while” he murmurs as his eyes rake down my body and a gentle hand grasps the string strap on my shoulder lazily. “You know i can't” my voice cracks lightly as i bite my lip. My eyes gaze up to meet Harry's own intense gaze. “Who we are outside of this room just doesn't work” my voice strains at the words. Harry's fingers tap lightly on my shoulder as he entraps the strap of my dress between my shoulder and his hand. 

“I wish you’d give us a chance” Harry's voice is hoarse as he makes the confession to me, his hand and my strap falling down my bicep. I glance at the movement before letting my gaze meet Harrys once more. A deep breath releases from my mouth, one I didn't know I was holding. “You need to move on” I whisper, studying his face. “How can I, when you always come back?” He says, lowering his head so our foreheads are now touching. Harry laces his arms around my waist, his hands resting on the small of my back. “One last time” I utter the same words I utter every single time we do this.

Harrys soft smile graces his face as his arms hook under my legs, lifting me before placing me gently back down on the edge of the bed. I lay back, letting my head rest down on the soft duvet, my eyes never leaving Harrys as he climbs on top of me, caging me between his large arms, his bare chest hovering mere inches above my own. I take in the moment, drinking in his face like it's a drug I can't stop myself from taking. He stops, our noses brushing “you say that everytime” his voice low and seductive, before he softly presses his lips against mine.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Mark knows one thing: All good things come to an end.

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

14 * Break(Up) [7.6k]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [13] [15] [Chapter Index]

"You know that guy that shot himself in the back of the van?

Botched it and blasted his whole fucking face in half."

Botched - Go Hang

        Day ??????

        "I want to... just no fire this time." Mark said, hard under your hips. He was laid on your shared cot, pretty in the firelight, dinner boiling on the exo-skeleton stove. You'd yet to go beyond where you'd sexually explored. He was still too nervous to hurt you, but horny as an alley cat. You didn't mind the distraction and it seemed to keep him grounded, stable. 

        You furrow your brow. "What's the fire got anything to do with this?" 

        His hands soften their hold on your breasts. Tank top forgotten somewhere. That, at least, was new.

        "I can see myself," he says barely above the fire-crack, "in your eyes."

        You were so much healthier now with a constant stream of food and water. Cumming on the semi-daily. Yet without sun, you weren't as glowing as you could be. You were becoming something that withered in the gloom, something like him. Deformed. Monstrous. Seeing his reflection, even a moment, reminded him that he was corrupting you. Ruining you. Letting you rot with him in this cave. This dark, isolated place so much like his personal hell, just bigger.

        "I like seeing you." You say. 

        "Well, I don't." He'd be more snappish if his dick wasn't hard, twitching for attention.

        You could live without fire, the light for now. So you lean off of him, and dash out the blaze. "Happy?"

        Without the possibility of seeing himself, seeing how trapped he was, "Yes."

        Day ????????

        "You hear that?"

        You woke in the dark, sleep heavy on your lids. You slept too much to tell the time. Mark sometimes slept with you, like tonight. Curled up together for warmth at first then for company.

        "Hear what?" You turn your ear to the ceiling as he slipped out of the cot.

        "That." He floated up. Pressed his head to the cool roof of the cave. Fingers flat to the dirt to feel any vibration. He listened and listened and listened. You tried to listen, you couldn't see where he went in the oppressive dark, just knew he left your side and would spiral if you let him feel around in the dark. 

        Crack!

        There it is!

        Crack!

        But from where?

        Crack!

        Below him. He looked down to find the white carapace glowing with orange with light. A frown twitched on his cheeks. Every time he left you were back at it, making fires- light to see by. Nothing was that important to see here. Plenty of blind folk did by feel so why couldn't you?

        He shook his head. There he goes again. Thinking crazy. You were used to seeing. Comforted by light's normalcy. He needed to stop being so weird. He needed to get himself in check.

        You pop your head out, trying to see, but he was too far up, shrouded by the shadows. He knows he should return, but he can't bring himself to. He pressed his head to the cool rock and felt the cuffs holding him to the ground while his father's voice whispered he would never escape. 

        Day ?????????

        "I just don't get what's taking him so long," Mark says.

        "I don't know." You'd tread this topic flat. Mark turned it into a desire path.

        "I mean, how long's it been?"

        You rest your head against his shoulder, bored even though he was flying you around, "I don't know." 

        You'd been walking, trying to explore the mold cave by yourself but he deemed it too dangerous for you to go alone. He put the torch out, scared it'd catch on something if you weren't careful. Flew you through the sneeze-inducing cavern while you couldn't see a thing. So much for exploring. 

        "You agree, right? He should've been here by now."

        "Probably. If you're so worried about it maybe we should try to dig up." His doubt was starting to wear on you, it was impossible to convince yourself things would be fine when he wouldn't stop insisting the opposite was true. 

        "Do you think I actually killed him?" He ignores the last part, you don't know if it's on purpose or if he's stuck in a loop. 

        "I think it'd take a lot more than that to kill one of you." Except you hadn't seen the full damage done to Phantom. Mark moved too fast.

        "I broke his leg." Mark admits, "I saw the bone. I didn't mean to it just happened." His brain screamed infection but he knew that wasn't likely. Viltrumites regrow entire organs and never sport a sniffle. But his father had been the one to tell him this, his father who always seemed to be so full of lies. Taking him to that prison, telling him everything was going to be alright. He just needed a few months in the slammer to clear his head, change his mind. A lie. He never did.

        Angstrom Levy said he could kill his father. A lie. He never got to.

        Angstrom Levy said he could have you. Not a lie. Hold it together.

        Day ??????????

        You don't eat inside the hamster enclosure. It'd grown stuffy with crab smelling steam, with your constant, all-day lounging. Mark let you explore, but never far without company. If you were alone he insisted it be in the hut, where Phantom's tracker was. 

        Defiance was sitting just outside, slurping the same soup you'd been eating for days. He doesn't make a comment as he touched down, wiping spores off his clothes. He eyes the fire flickering inside the hut. "Do you really need that?"

        "I like seeing when I eat." You say in between bites.

        "You don't need to though, do you?" His tone is clipped. Though he made no move to go inside and put out the blaze.

        It pisses you off. "I need to not feel like I'm back in prison."

        "I-" Words are swallowed. He walked inside, head low. Returning with a shallow bowl. He didn't need to eat but with prison and all the memories it brought, an animal instinct inside him told him to. 

        He sat down heavily. Sloshing hot water on his thighs that he could barely feel. "I don't mean to make you feel that way. I just-" Out the corner of his eye, you sip at the bowl's edge. "I felt like I almost lost you when those two attacked me. I'm scared they'll find you and I won't know where you are and they'll hurt you again."

        You don't think they're going to find you but you don't say it. "I can handle myself."

        "Can you?"

        You set the bowl aside. Finished. Food sat heavy at the bottom of your stomach. "Mark. I kill people for a living. I went to a prison where I was constantly collared and couldn't use my powers. You think surviving that was easy? Surrounded by a bunch of other criminals, some worse than me, some who knew I killed people they loved? The guards had to keep me in solitary most of the time so Machine Head's favorite murder machine didn't leave in a body bag." Too many of the employees there were in his pocket. They kept you locked pillowy tight, safe as could be from the other riffraff when the warden wasn't around. The other inmates hated you for it. "I knew I was going to have to work for him when I got out but still I was relieved. Safety like that isn't safety, you know?" 

        "I wish my sentence was like that." He says instead of acknowledging the point you were trying to make. That he was doing the same thing your jailor did. 

        You shouldn't ask but you do. "What was it like?"

        "Bad." Just remembering made his hands start to shake. Sloshing more of the soup on his legs.

        You take his bowl and set it aside. Put a hand on his, feeling like an asshole. Of course it was bad- just look at him. "You don't have to talk about it."

        He made his muscles go taught all over to quell the shake. "You want to know." 

        "But I don't need to."

        He considers this before saying. "For most of it, nothing happened. Where I was kept was far away from everything it..." When he shut his eyes he saw his father standing bloody over him. When he looked at the floor, dark and matte, he saw the same floor as his cell, unbreakable, unstainable no matter how much blood his body wept. When he breathed in the stale air, it smelled the same. "The waiting drove me crazy."

        Waiting. He was still waiting. Waiting for Phantom to come. Waiting for him to dig a sturdy tunnel to the surface. Waiting to get out of here. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the punishment. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it did, it was going to be bad. It was always bad. Worse than the last worst thing.

        "I'm sorry." 

        Your apology is like canon shot straight through his head. He'd known this version of you a month and never heard words so sincere. "Why?"

        You shrug, "Because prison sucks. My sentence was definitely not as bad as yours and I dunno, I'm sorry for that. I mean, I wouldn't trade places with you or anything but I wish I understood."

        You crack a smile. Try to lighten the moon but his brain superimposes you into his cell. Puts you under his father's scrutinous gaze. Your skin dripping down your face. You curled in a meaty ball, sobbing while your flesh blistered. He wondered what you, his version of you, looked like while dying. 

        He needed to puke.

        He left without warning. So quick you fell back and can't see where he'd gone. 

        Day ???????????

        You put the fire out soon as he got 'home'. Dinner was served. If it even was dinner time. 

        He sat, ate as quietly as he could which wasn't very quiet at all. He didn't like you seeing him eat. He tried eating with the barb utensils, really, he did but it was so awkward and wrong. Eating with his hands was better but he was embarrassed if you watched him. So, no light at mealtimes. No light while you touched him. No light while sleeping. The list was only getting longer.

        You blindly stab for meat, barb going tink-tink-tink against the exoskeleton bowl. "How are the babies today?" 

        He was right. They didn't eat after birth and they didn't live long. The dead were slowly staring to pile up in corners. It was too early to tell if the population was dwindling but you were starting to guess yes. Not enough worker mites to drag them away to use as fertilizer in the farm You took it upon yourself to move the piles of carcasses. Not a fan of their smell after a few days. 

        "Mmm." He slurps something down.

        "The nursemaids still feeding them pieces of the queen?" You pop a piece of meat into your mouth. Sour with age. The queen was starting to go bad. Mark tried to jerky-fy her the same way Gray had but it didn't work, only left the cave so smokey you couldn't make a fire for what felt like weeks. He also ended up burning a pound of her precious meat, but at least you could use it as fuel. Which you were also running low on. You were considering turning to the mold farm, maybe using dried bug shells or egg linings. 

        He grunted in reply. He hadn't spoken to you since the prison talk. He'd regressed to his prison days. Make no noise, make no waves, and he'd be okay.

        You gave it time, then more time, and more time but this was getting ridiculous. You keep the conversation so you don't go fucking crazy.

        "Any of the girlies in the lead?" In the last few days, a few of the young grew bigger than the rest. Still fleshy and wriggling but clear replacements for the queen. Only one of them would survive to adulthood and it'd be good to know who to get on your side. Much as you could get a bug on your side.

        Another grunt.

        "Good talk."

        You were annoyed with him. Hard not to be when stuck in close quarters so long. Yet he still had you on your back later. Eating you for desert without saying a word. He may have gotten worse at coping, but he'd gotten better at eating pussy. You don't mind your volume. Screaming into the carapace roof as you come undone. Hoping Phantom had a microphone in that little spyware thing you stuck to the wall. Maybe he'd get so jealous he'd throw caution to the wind and just come down already. Take you to the above ground where you longed to lounge in the sun. Even for a moment.        

        Day ???????????

        Click click click-ity click.

        They came forward in a wave of pale bodies. Climbing over egg sacks and atop each others backs to be the first to your feet. Before they can touch you, climb up your body, you let loose a loud click.

        The masses stop. You hold up the stinking torch constructed from dead bugs speared through a piece of rebar. They do not flinch back from the heat and light. They are under your control and will not move until released. Controlling thousands at once is difficult but their minds were so simple, so tiny, it was like controlling a weakened Viltrumite. Harder than a human being at least.

        With a click click click, they began to move out of your footpath. You stop when you're stood at the precipice of the nursery. The five fat larval potential queens wait for you on the backs of their adult caretakers. You look over them all, holding the torch overhead, assessing the strongest looking versus the scrawniest. You didn't know their criteria for survival but you hoped the biggest meant it was the healthiest. 

        You held out the old meat you'd brought along to the largest. She takes it in underdeveloped mandibles. Chittering as you let go. The first sound any of them had made since the queen died. It felt like a good sound and you couldn't help the small smile on your lips. 

        The trill travels back, a sound of content from the entire hive it seemed. You laughed, awkwardly, and held out another piece. The to-be queen took it and the sound repeats in a wave. 

        "(Y/n)," Mark's voice from far away, peaked with concern. "(Y/n)!?"

        "Over here." He'd started talking to you again not too long ago, no apologies, no preamble. You didn't say anything about it either, just glad to have him talking again, to hear a voice besides your own. 

        He found you holding an oversized grub, the other bugs circling your feet. "I think I picked the queen?" You laugh while he hovers horrified. They could've swarmed you there were so many, a carpet of pale bodies going round and round in a not-quite death spiral. 

        "Put that thing down." He warns.

        "She likes me." Even though she was wiggly and slimy and gross, she was a little cute. Mandibles grabbing hold of your tank top to nibble on. "I'm like, securing our spot in the hierarchy." You don't know if it's true. If you even did pick a queen or if the second you put her down the bugs would kill her. 

        Mark could care less what a bug thought. He tore the grub out of your hands and set it down, scared if he killed it the swarm would blame you. In the same breath, he picked you up so quick you dropped the torch. Your new friends swerved to avoid the blaze but some burn, popping out of their shells. "Hey!"

        "I didn't know where you were." There's panic in his voice. "I couldn't find you." He'd gone to sleep some time ago. Didn't move when you woke up and left.

        "I wasn't far away." You argue. "I had a light, you could see me."

        "We've been using less light lately. What if I couldn't?" He landed outside the hamster hut and carried you inside.

        "Okay, well, I need light to walk around this place unlike you." You wait for him to set you on the cot but he doesn't. "Uhm, hello, put me down?"

        "You make me worry-"

        "Mark."

        "It's like you don't listen to me-"

        "Mark."

        "I worry about you so much, and it's like you don't care."

        "Mark, put me down."

        His hands flex but his body obeys. You take a step back in the dark and start to tilt back, tripping on the cot. Mark surged forward, caught you by the back.

        "See?" His breath is hot on your face, grip hard on your upper arms, "I'm protecting you from yourself."

        You don't like who he's becoming in the dark. "I don't need you to protect me." You wiggle in his hold, "Let go."

        His hands spring open, you fall ass first to the cot. You feel it heavy in the air. His urge to pounce, to try and control, but he balls his fists and stays standing over you. You hate it.

        "I want to be alone." You say. He hovered around so much, too much, glued to your hip. The words are a threat to use your power. You don't want to but if he makes you- you will.

        "No." He says.

        You think about forcing him but don't. It'd only make him worse. "Then don't bitch about the fire when I cook." You make no move for the pit.

        "You ate this morning, you're not hungry."

        "Excuse me?" It was true, but you were prickly, wanted something to change. You wanted out but he wouldn't try.

        "I think you're trying to upset me."

       You were annoyed that he was right, that he had been a brick wall so often any response seemed to piss you off. "I think you're being crazy right now." 

        Crazy? Crazy? 

        He took in a breath. "You think I'm being-" He heard his father in his voice just then. Shuts him right up, "I'm sorry. I- I just thought I was alone again. I got scared."

        "Doesn't mean you can just pick me up like that. I'm not a doll, Mark." 

        God, he'd been so stupid. So, so stupid. Acting like the others. Possessive. Obsessive. Crazy. Part of him says to leave, to give you space but he doesn't. He can't stop himself from acting like the others. Suppose it was genetic. 

        Day ????????????????????

        You sit outside the hamster hut. Far as Mark would let you go before he started acting off. More off than he had been down here. Fine, it's fine. You could handle it. You needed the practice controlling the bugs from far away.

        You click loud and clear. Push and pull the bugs like the tide. Experimented with different sounds, seeing what they'd do. You'd actually managed to get them to dig. In the center of the main cave and not the ceiling like you wanted. You were trying to figure out the series of hisses and clicks that'd redirect them. 

        Mark knew what you were trying to do. All the what if's came piling in his head. What if the tunnel collapsed? What if it made the whole cave collapse? What if you wanted to get away from him? What if you were scared of him?

        "You should stop." He said, watching your back.

        "It's good practice." You say between clicks. 

        "You could hurt yourself."

        "I won't." 

        He shuts up. Watches you try to redirect the bugs to middling success. Thoughts more discordant than the bugs movement. Louder than your clicking. He thinks he should kill the bugs. All of them so you can't dig a way out. He thinks that after days, maybe weeks of nothing happening, the hammer was about to come down. Thinks you're trying to tempt fate. Thinks maybe, just maybe, this was Phantom's idea all along. Phantom wasn't stupid. He knew Mark would crack up in the deep, isolate dark. He knew he'd regress. Act like the animal he was, all of them were deep down.

        Mark needs you to know. "He's leaving us down here on purpose."

        You watch the bugs. "Why would he do that?"

        "Because he's obsessed with you." He said.

        "You're not making sense." Then you turn on him. He sees it in the dark, your furrowed brow and twitching lip. You think he's crazy. 

       He needs to make you understand. He's not crazy, he's not. "Think about it. They all want you to themselves but they can't have you if you're all over some fuckin' freak like me. So he stranded us down here. He's listening I bet. Maybe they're all listening, waiting to swoop in when I fuck up." If he had hair he'd pull at it. But he doesn't so his hands press down on the expanse of scars on his head. 

        Turns out, you weren't looking at him like he was crazy before- because you absolutely were now. "I don't think..." You sigh, stand, click and let the bugs disburse. "Mark, we can't know that. We can't know anything down here. I think we should start thinking about digging up for real. If we're slow about it and careful there shouldn't be a cave in." You hoped.

        "There's going to be a cave in." He said assuredly.

        "You don't know that." You reach out for him.

        Phantom would know. 

        Mark didn't know anything at all. Down came the sledgehammer of reason. He didn't know. He was assuming. He was being crazy.

        Your touch is like a healing balm he immediately relaxes into. "I'm sorry." He says. "I just- I don't know what's happening anymore. I thought I'd know what was going to happen when I got out and now I don't and I'm so scared all of the time. I'm sorry," His head starts to hang and he begins to lean in, melt into your body, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

        You brace for his weight.  Body stiff with how hard you had to hold him up, arms straining to wrap around his back as he cried into your neck. Yet no tears wet your skin. Trapped behind those black lenses until the moisture reabsorbed to skin, leaving behind remnants he could never recover.

        Day ???????????????????????????????

        "Mark, just sit down." 

        He doesn't reply. Feet endlessly going plap-plap-plap on the sweaty ground. He was always moving these days. Shaking his leg. Floating around you. Pacing. You suspected he was too scared to do it in prison, a way to distance himself from the memory. That if they heard him move they'd bust into the cell and beat him half-dead. You understood the need to distance himself, but the sound had been going for hours. It was the only thing you could focus on in the dark. He only let you light a fire if you were cooking now which was less and less often. The Queen had gone to rot. You'd turned to eating her subjects which Mark was starting to argue, could be eaten raw. 

        "Mark."

        Plap-plap-plap.

        "Sit down."

        The sound is sucked out the air in a vacuum. You have to hold his mind down, headlock it to submission. It thrashes, writhes in your grip. Talking is difficult with how much he struggles but you manage, "Walking in circles won't get us out of here."

        He breaks free so quickly and completely you feel the snap in your skull. Then he's on you, solid hand over your mouth.

        "Don't do that." Breath hot on your face, powerful body hovering over you. 

        You hadn't used power on him for days- you think it'd been days- and he hadn't reacted badly then. But his tone, the crackle in the air, told you now things were different. 

        His hand falls away. Regretting the action as soon as he'd done it. His presence leaves you all at once.

        "Never do that again." It reminded him too much of when his captors would put a bit in his mouth so he wouldn't bite off his own tongue during the torture, cuff him to the floor so they could torment him. He was horrified he'd lash out, kill you if you did it again. 

        Judging by how fast your heart raced? You thought the same thing. 

        Good, you should be scared of him. The thought makes him sick. 

       Day ????????????????????????????????????????????

        He's convinced the others linger outside the rocky prison walls. Listening so hard if he thought loud enough they'd hear, the same way the prison guards always seemed to. This place was so close to where he'd been last month. Was it last month? Or two months ago now? A year? He was never good at keeping track of time in there. Worse in here. All he was good at was waiting for inevitable punishment.

        But you were no good at that. Always trying to better yourself. Train with the bugs. Figure out their language slowly and surely like it was a game. You kept trying to soft launch the idea of getting them to dig you out but he always shot it down. Ignored you when you suggested he try digging out.

        You were getting better at shucking bug exoskeletons to get to their tasty white meat. The queen was fully rotten now, but that was fine as her subjects were more tender and juicy. You were getting better at making soups. Which was endearing at first but now all he focused on was how quick you could build a fire. How often you built them. How loud and bright they were. How them burning meant you could see him at his very lowest. Could they see him too? 

        "We could eat them raw." He suggested for the millionth time, sat just out of view. Where the firelight couldn't touch him. 

        You give him a look, cracking a dead bug out of its shell and letting the meat roll into the makeshift pot. "I'm not doing that."

        You don't get it. You don't understand the danger that's looming around the corner. Waiting to strike. You and your smile glowing, attracting bugs like him. 

        You'd be mad, but when nothing bad happened down the line- you'd understand.

        He rushed forward, killed the fire in the stroke of an arm. Finally, he could be comfortably close to you.

        "Mark! What the hell?"

        "Quiet." He muttered in your ear. 

        You scoff and blindly reach out for the fire. Fingers finding hot coals. You hiss, reeling back a moment before reaching out again, not deterred at all. "What'd you do that for?"

        You still didn't get it. He had to make you get it. He grabbed your arms from behind, chest pressed to your back, voice in your ear. "Stop," he says, "We don't need it."

        "Yes we do, to eat." You try to shuck your arms out his grip but it's unwavering.

        "No." He says. 

        Your lips purse. "We're not fucking cave bugs Mark. Let go of me."

        Touch fell away like you burned him. It stayed away while you rebuilt the fire, mentally holding him in a choke hold after you told him to, "Stay."

        When the fire was back on, you turned to him, frowning. Because you knew he wasn't happy you used your powers on him. You knew he'd do something shitty. So you kept the hold long and strong as you could just to look at him and his pretty face in the firelight.

        When the hold breaks, darkness is almost immediate. Fire kicked to the hamster hut walls. "Mar-"

        His hand came to your mouth, dirty fingers digging to your cheeks. "No." He growled. "No. No more."

        You felt him moving you both. So fast you couldn't process until it was done. You sat on the cot, legs splayed in front of you, hands weighed heavy down between them. Wrapped in rebar still hot after being twisted so fast. Then your head, oh god, your head was so tightly wrapped round the middle you felt like you were a watermelon being squeezed by a hundred rubber bands. The cotton he'd used as a makeshift bit, pulled back your cheeks and dried the spit off your tongue. So thick you couldn't push the thing out with your tongue, could barely swallow.

        He says, "I'm sorry," wavering with such fear. Like he wasn't the one scaring the shit out of you right now. Your heart rabbit fast in your chest, fighting the urge to scream. If you got your arms free, you could pull off the gag, talk to him, calm him down like you had been the whole time. 

        You wriggled in the restraints. Tried to use your feet to pull the rebar off your arms but it was too well wrapped. Knotted over itself and solid. Fear seemed to choke you and you resorted to screaming from your throat, hoping some syllables would break through and he'd realize how crazy this was.

        "Why wouldn't you listen to me?" He says though you can barely hear him over your own guttural screaming. "I've been through this kind of thing before, I know what I'm talking about."

        You beat your wrapped arms against the ground, making your bones vibrate, making the ground go clang clang clang. 

        He goes on, "I promise I'll take the gag out when you calm down. I can't trust you to make a bad choice right now." Your legs gather under you, push you up but his hands are on your shoulders, pushing your ass back down. You can't tell between the absolute oppressive black and his body. Both are everywhere.

        "It's alright," he says soft, "I've got you."

        Day ??????????????????????????????????????????????????

        He poured water onto the cotton bit. Soaks it through until the water drips sourly onto your tongue. Pushed raw bug guts in the few gaps in the gag. Held you warm at night. Told you it was going to be okay.

        You have no idea how long it's been like this, the dark seems to hold you in place. The past and the present feel the same, you don't feel like you have a future anymore. Only the darkness and his touch for the rest of your life. You are still scared, every time he moved, your mind screamed that this time he would snap your neck. That in his fucked up brain it'd be a better idea to kill you than find a way out. He wasn't even trying anymore. He didn't leave the hamster hut, a constant companion in the quiet dark. 

        Some part of him was lucid enough to know if he took off the gag, you'd get him back- oh you spiteful Mark-killing thing. The other bit of him, tiny as it was, said he should take the gag off. That you wouldn't hurt him, you cared about him. You wouldn't kill him. To which the other side said; "Wouldn't you?" Doubt ping-ponged him back and forth. Either way he wanted to take the gag off, wanted to apologize, but he felt the phantom cuffs and couldn't move. 

        You couldn't take it anymore. The dark. The hours of silence. Mark regressing. All of it. You'd been biding time, trying to store energy.  

        You rolled off of the cot that felt like your coffin, shuffling forward on your knees, spinning to face him- where you hoped he was. Know he's watching. You didn't do much after he first put you in the restraints, he'd promised to take the gag off when you calmed, but it never came. The dark made you begin to doubt he'd said anything. 

        You bend down, head first and find his chest. Headbutting him gentle as a docile cat. Grunting through the restraints, trying to say, "I wanna talk to you," but it came out as, "Ahhahaakohuu."

        The warring sides of him flare. You were going to make him leave, bring the cave down, ruin everything you'd built together. You wanted to fix the bridge he burned because you were an angel. He knew he was the bad one for doing this to you. You must be so scared of him. You must want him dead.

        That thought is worse than being in prison again, it echoes in his mind, making him move. His hands shoot out to undo the gag, let it fall to the ground with a wet thop. His hands come to either side of your head, where the gag left an irritated indent, red and deep. "Oh Jesus (Y/n)." 

        Hearing his voice crack made you want to cry but you couldn't. You were cried out because of him. Arms came around your middle, pressing you to his front as he shuddered with incoming tears. You stayed still, pushing your feelings down as you breathe through your mouth for the first time in what felt like a century. Your dry tongue flexes in its cage. Jaw and cheeks stretch, power builds up your throat as he snivels.

        You wait until he pulls back, arms slipping away, leaving hands lingering on your waist. "I'm so s-"

        "Mark." He's heartbroken by how little your voice sounds. It makes him want to break things because he knows what's coming and he knows it's all his fault. "Go to the ceiling, and dig a way out."

       He lifted off the ground and out of the hut. Surprised into submission. But his grip didn't loosen for some moments, lifting you with him until his hands dropped to turn himself into a human drill. You fell, screaming but your hold on him stays. 

        You hear him hit the ceiling, shaking the cavern as you hit the ground. Twenty-feet worth of gravity come down on your left leg all at once. You feel the crack, fast, hot- the snap of your tibia breaking under skin. There's no time to scream before the rest of you hits the ground, forcing the air out your lungs.

        Mark is fighting against your control as he spins, turning rock to gravel lighting quick. Your hold is as strong as his fist, crushing, insurmountable, until it's not. Gone all at once. The control leaves as you begin to scream.

        He's knelt at your side, you can't see him but you feel the wind as he lands too quickly, hear his panicked breaths as he reaches for you. Dirt from his shoulders drop onto your face as he leans forward. You try to heave yourself up to get a look at the damage despite the dark and your weak human eyes. He can see it's bad. Your left leg was bent in the middle of your shin. He knows that if you saw it you'd puke, pass out, bleed out from the inside and die on him. Leave him here alone.

        So he pushes you down to lay on your back. All he can hear is your sobbing and the falling rocks from the hole in the ceiling. The ceiling that now cracks and groans, but doesn't cave. He knew it was a bad idea, but he should've known you'd try something stupid and desperate like this. He remembers the desperation that came after months in the floating prison. How it'd all leached out of him the longer he sat, the harder they hit him. He needs to stop you from doing something like that again. To stop you from making it worse, just like he had. 

        He's stuck in his head again, holding you but unable to make a decision. Breath comes back to you in slow, burning sips of air.

        "Mark-" you gasp, swallow, trying to scrounge up some power, "you need to keep digging."

        He doesn't want to take off, to leave you, but your power hits him like Battle Beast's mace to the ribs. You are stronger in your adrenaline fueled desperation. You force him to fly up, to dig, dig, dig until the rocks become less hard, until he hits dirt that morphs into silky sand. But you are not as strong as Battle Beast, and you are woozy with agony. He feels it when you pass out, the lack of your power holding him. He is back in the caves as hundreds of pounds of now unsupported sand follow him. Piling under the hole in a building dune.

         Mark kneels over you. One hand over your mouth, one hand under your neck. Watching as consciousness returned to your body. Tears kickstart as your brain registers the pain. You start to thrash against him but it doesn't work, makes the pain worse. You go limp under him, eyes searching for his face in the dark and not finding it. 

        "Why did you do that?" He says, voice roadkill raw.

        You can't respond. Consider biting his hand but you're too scared. He scared you too much to fight back- like Scars, but somehow more unpredictable. You think if you fuck this up he'll kill you then lay next to your body, catatonic until he dies. You think he'll do it quick, a snap of the neck, and he'll think it's merciful. It'd be easy, then you'd be dead. You didn't want to be in this cave anymore but even more than that, you didn't want to die.

        "The roof could've collapsed." He says, "You could've died. You could've..." He hears it. The thundering pitter-patter of your heart. Hummingbird fast because you're hurt and scared because of him. "I hurt you." All at once he is barraged by how miserable you must be down here with him. How he'd locked you up and thrown away the key like dad did. Like Mark did, the real Mark, your Mark because you told him what he did to you one night after sex. He'd grown distant after that, remembering you weren't really who he wanted to see outside of prison- then he clung to you, unwilling to leave you like he had. 

        "Oh God, oh God, I'm worse than him." His hands go up to his head. 

        You have no idea what he's talking about but you need to make him, "D-"

        His hand is back over your mouth, harsh enough to make you gasp.

        "No," a growl. "No. It'll cave in. Don't you see you're going to die? Stop it." Your heart beats on, terrified. Tears squirt out of your eyes. He's making you cry. Thumbs come up to wipe the tears away. "No, no, stop that, hey." The gentleness in his tone warbles like bad camouflage.

        The more he wipes the tears away, the more come to replace them. He can't plug the flow. This is his fault. He knew he should've stayed in his box instead of going with Angstrom. He wasn't fit for the outside world or those distant planets with imaginary sap rivers. He wasn't fit for anything at all.

        "I didn't mean to, (Y/n)." He cups your cheeks, lets the wetness gather on the sides of his rugged hands. Let it soak, burning into his skin as punishment. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, please talk to me. Please, please, I love you." When it comes out, something feels ripped out of him. He was hollow before, but empty now. He couldn't love you, he didn't know you, not really. You were a figment he ruined like the first. He didn't deserve to give his heart to anyone- to push that curse onto anyone. Especially not you. You didn't need a rotten thing like him.

        In his attempts to quell the tears, he no longer held your mouth shut. You could make him dig but the sand was coming down in a river now. The hole would dig itself now. Fill the cavern in a few hours at this rate.

        The sun was coming, the nightmare was over. Mark didn't have to waste away in this hell anymore, didn't have to drag you down with him. You'd figure it out under the sun. Fix up your leg. Fix up his brain. You just needed him to calm down, to understand what was next.  

        "Mark," you croaked and he goes still, as if already under our control, "Just stop."

        In your head, you mean for him to take a breath. To calm down. To talk this out. You were mad, sure, scared, absolutely, upset, totally, but he was still your partner in survival. Still someone you cared about. 

        In Mark's head? Stop was something yelled over the guards as they kicked his ribs in. Stop was what he said to his father's attempts at swaying him, to the lies he fed him. Stop meant more fists were coming. Stop was something he could never do in regards to loving you. To hurting you. Stop was ending your pain the only way he understood how.

        You feel the impact more than hear it. A sound so strange, you couldn't process, couldn't even guess what it was. Then came his wheezy groan. The brassy drip of blood on stone. He let out a sigh as his body came down hard atop yours. Warming your arms with quickly spreading heat.

        "Mark?"

        You shift, expecting him to move with you. Maybe to help you up. Maybe to stop you. But he does neither. He shudders once twice, then goes completely, utterly still.

        "Mark?" 

        You wriggle out from under him. Front soaked through, smelling of blood. So much blood you could choke.

        "Mark?!"

        You're on your knees in the dark. Padding around with arms tied by rebar, feeling for him, the problem, the sudden quiet. There's his bubble butt, there's his strong lower back, there's a.... wet, warm hole. There's... his arm going up. There's something in his hand. Hot and firm. Your hand comes away slick and reeking. 

        You don't remember when you started to scream. Or when you stopped 

        One moment you were. Then the next, you were face first in a puddle of congealing blood, your throat raw and head pounding. Movement pricked at your ears. You stirred, trying to return to reality. Sand almost buried you alive, you could feel it shift off your back. When your eyes open, there is sun coming through the roof. White hot and burning your eyes, but you can't look away, finally seeing him. 

        Light frames his back. Broad shoulders and narrow waisted. Standing over you. 

        "Mark?"

        Water, something he hadn't had in days drips down his chin. Bugs wriggle in his grip, their juices on his lips. Stomach churning but starting to work after weeks of nothing. He looks strange to you in his blue and yellow suit, his pretty brown eyes squinting down at you. Mark wore white. Mark didn't have hair.

        You looked just as strange covered in blood and bugs. His doppelganger laid beside you. Mostly buried in tan sand, gone dark brown with blood. His eyes adjust to the dim light and he sees the heart, held in his scarred hand peaking out of the sand. Jesus. 

        And there you are, bloodshot eyes, rebar tied too tight around your wrist. The miserable, missing and presumed dead girl who was the most valuable bargaining chip in the wastes. He doesn't have to think as your head starts to turn, eyes about to take in the view next to you. He's fast, swooping you up and out of the cave. The movement, being held, the shift- brings hot white pain. A sound comes out of your lips, dying with your waning consciousness. 

[aaabatteriez]

we're not quite lovers, so i tell everyone we're just friends

zoro x afab! reader

hi! this is the revised + part 2 ish of the original. i doubt ill come back to this but idk i love quiet love sm 😕😕 and yearning. and the line between friends nd lovers. ts wounds me. zoro being bad abt feelings.

we're not quite lovers, so i tell everyone we're just friends.

the lights in the kitchen were dim except for one; blanching it's warm, yellow light upon you, the stool you sat upon, the table where your rigid shoulders heaved, and a bottle of soju alongside an emptied glass. 

remnants of your drunken lips were smeared on it's rim, as a single drop of liquor cascaded down one of the beveled edges of the cup. it was a true mirror of the state you were in. 

with tired eyes, you set aside the glass, the clink you heard upon doing so, sounding much too familiar. 

to hear it, hurt your heart, but not more than your pride, knowing if at that moment you heard more than one, how easily you would have bursted into tears.

clink. clink. clink. 

that was the sound one would hear when roronoa zoro entered the room. quiet yet full of presence, it was always three consecutive clinks, one from each of his blades clashing from the tread of his footsteps on deck. before your mind even got the chance to protest, the sound carved itself into your memory with ease.

there were a lot of things about the swordsman you memorized without meaning to.

it was like he hardly slept at all, by how early he would rise at dawn. you knew it well because sometimes in your sleep you stirred, and when you woke you'd hear the clink of his swords on the other side of the door as he walked past.

by afternoon, often you'd find the swordsman in deep sleep, in every possible location on the ship. it made sense to you though, of course he'd need to make up for the time lost to early training than to doze off. though his routine was out of his own willingness, you always made sure to interrupt roronoa zoro's way of life for meal times, when you noticed that he was asleep for longer than usual.

on one of those days, you and everyone had gathered for lunch. It was only mid way through the meal that you noticed the empty chair beside you. everyone was seated, except for the man who's mere absence left you feeling odd. you forgot to wake the swordsman. without hesitation, you set down your chopsticks and got up.

"(y/n), are you going to get zoro again?" asked the navigator. 

the question stopped you in your tracks. you turned to nami, who's casual expression meant nothing at face value, that was until you became well acquainted with the look that glinted in the cat burglar's eyes, curiosity lighting aflame when it came to matters of gold, treasure, and more recently; you and the man who was currently snoring away with an empty stomach.  

you nodded at the question, to which the sharpshooter who sat beside her looked to you, towards nami, then back to you again, the smirk on his face growing wider throughout the whole exchange. 

to this, nami made no attempt to cease ussop's silent amusement, flashing an impish grin to her partner in crime, just as mortifying as his.

"what." you said, a desperate attempt to protect your pride.

"you know, (y/n)," ussop spoke, "i think it would be better if you were our cook instead of sanji."

the blonde chef glanced towards ussop's direction.

"if you were making dinner everyday, zoro would be the first one seated." 

nami burst into laughter, jabbing ussop's shoulder repeatedly with her palms as he snickered. amused glances darted around the room, even luffy joined in with a hearty laugh, however it was not for the same reason that caused your cheeks to light aflame. 

"don't be weird." you groaned. 

"i'm not! i'm just saying," ussop grinned, swirling around the contents of the soup bowl cradled in his hand, "everyone here knows zoro sleeps like crazy, but we don't bother to wake him. there's a reason for that, (y/n)."

ussop paused, lowering his utensils.

"to say the least, it's like... poking a tiger with a stick."

chopper shuddered as if just hearing the sentiment was enough to relive the dreaded, 'who wants to wake zoro? not it!' game. the doctor's 62-day losing streak only came to an end once you had joined the crew.

ussop continued, "the thing with you, is that you get zoro up like he was never sleeping to begin with. not only that, you do it completely unscathed!" 

nami nodded in agreement, the others similarly without a hint of protest.

"so there's no way he doesn't care for you right? atleast a little." nami teased. "wouldn't you agree sanji?"

sanji hummed, "that meathead has more moss in his brain than neurons, but he's an easy book to read."

you grew quiet.

"it's not rocket science. anyone can see that zoro likes (y/n)." 

"zoro likes (y/n)? of course! she's part of our crew!" luffy laughed.

"not like that, luffy." sanji sighed.

you lowered your hands to your sides, stifly. your embarrassment was long replaced with a feeling that burdened you much more than a couple teasing remarks ever could. 

"i know you all mean well, but i think you've got the wrong idea." you said, lips upturned into a smile that was a much of a lie as the next words that came out of your mouth.

"we're just friends, that's all."

———

as you left the dining room, you could feel the sentiment lingering in your throat, your tongue resting on the hard palate of your mouth, matching the final consonant.

that's all.

to roronoa zoro, the words "that's all" was easy for him. you'd gotten used to the way he'd leave long silences and unended conversations, without much explanation or room for interpretation. when you were with others, when you two were alone. when you'd see him in the boys cabin in the daylight, when he'd visit yours in the night. to roronoa zoro, the words "that's all" meant what they meant. there was no reason to question the statement. the words "that's all" would've been something he nodded at and left the room. something he'd turn his attention to for a split second, but ultimately it would never cross his mind again. 

maybe the cook was right, how easily roronoa zoro read after so much time with him. the only thing is, you were just friends, and that's all you were. that's what you claimed, and that's what he'd be okay with. words that meant what they meant.

You walked along the deck, your arm softly meeting the railing, until you stopped at the familiar sound of a light snore.

you smiled softly to yourself, walking closer towards the frontmost part of the deck where zoro was sleeping seated upright, head cocked to one side. his shoulders lying low, chest rising and falling to the slow yet heavy rhythm of his breathing. 

had you remembered the words you said earlier to your friends, you wouldn't have taken these few moments to study the way the swordsman looked. he was handsome, you knew anyone could see that. but it was when you started your routine of waking him did you notice the way his strongest and most chiseled features became his softest at rest. the curve of his cheek, the lack of furrow in his brow. his lips slightly parted. he was lighter in this state. less tired, less bitter. 

his muscular frame however, was still as solid asleep as awake, but never did his sleeping form make you feel as uneasy as the way he looked after slaying a man 40 times the size of himself. instead, he was heavy in a remote state, like a large rock, unmoving, yet soft.

you knelt down to meet him at face level, as you've always done countless times before, resting a palm on his shoulder.

"zoro," you said, lightly patting the fabric.

being met with no response, you called again. 

"zoro."

his breath was interrupted with a low grunt, then it continued again, ignoring you completely. you knew after some time this was not a case of the swordsman in deep sleep, it was one of refusal. seeing how his posture shifted to one more attentive than the way he was sitting moments ago, it only comfirmed your suspicions.

"i know you're awake, you big lug." you rolled your eyes in amusement. your hands lowered to meet the collar of his coat, lightly tugging the fabric.

still, his act continued even after confrontation, even after a couple firmer attempts to nudge him awake, and finally an exasperated sigh from you in defeat. without much else to do, you turned your head to look in the direction you came.

"i'll bring you a plate if you're so tired today." you said.

but before you could stand up to do so, the swordsman stopped you, his palms meeting your arms, heavy eyes opening to look at you. only you.

what one might expect from the likeness of roronoa zoro, is that his touch would be a great distance away from ever being tender.

i mean, he was a swordsman of course. how could a man who's life passion consisting of violence and bloodshed, have hands be anything but cold, unmercifcul, as if it was a physical imprint of how closely he worked with death himself?

maybe it has been too long. too much time. too many moments where you've bumped shoulders, or brushed each others' knuckles without meaning to. too many nights spent training, where his hands lingered to correct your form longer than they should have, or held onto you in battle even when danger was far away from the two of you. 

because if you really thought about it, you couldn't even imagine a moment in time where roronoa zoro was ever rough with you.

yes, his hands were of little to no vanity. they were coarse and blistered, that much was clear from how hard he worked. but his touch, it was the kind of tenderness that was never too excessive or flowery, but simple and soft, tender enough to withold you from leaving him, from moving, from breathing altogether.

at that moment, he brushed a hand along your back, then raised it to where your hair met the collar of your shirt, strands falling loosely over your shoulders. he paused for a moment, hand frozen in place. to look at you. then ever so slowly, he shifted your hair to one side, grazing the crease of his thumb along the nape of your neck. 

his gaze never left you. you couldn't describe it well, because in moments like these you found yourself looking at just about anywhere, anything, as long as it wasn't him, because never would you admit that the way he watched your face with such focus made your heart ache so easily. 

had you looked at the swordsman's face for any longer, you wouldve felt a dangerous lack of restraint to close the distance between you and him, the man who had just moved your hair out of the way for no reason at all. for no real reason, other than it was something he wanted to do, so he did it. 

had you looked at him for any longer, would you have mirrored his actions in return? 

your hands dropped to your sides as you stepped back, letting him move from his rested position.

"you don't get me food." he said, firmly, slowly rising to his feet.

"hm?" you asked, a little taken aback.

"you offered to get me a plate, don't do that." he grunted, shifting his weight to stretch his shoulders.

"why not?" 

"because if i don't get up to eat even after you go trying to wake me up, that's my fault." he turned to you, "you're no maid, so don't act like it."

you smiled.

"hey, if you're trying to say i'm a doormat,  then you're very much mistaken," you scoffed. "if you made me get you food from today onward, i would've started complaining by day three."

"my point exactly." he grinned, flashing a canine.

"oh come on! how?" 

"it takes you three days to start complaining. were you gonna bathe and dress me too?"

the remark left you feeling more embarrassed than you wished it did. you smacked his back with your open palm, flustered, as you walked towards the dining room.

it was an action that encouraged him to joust back, for him to flinch and shake your hand off his body and grunt in annoyance, away from your touch, away from you. but he did none of these things. 

he simply let you, a content expression across his face, looking at you with those same honest eyes that made your walk falter behind him, your hand slowly falling back to your side.

for a moment you both walked in silence, zoro infront of you.

then you walked forward, brushing his forearm with yours, closer to him, closer than you needed to. and he just let you.

and for a moment, the shortest spec of a moment, your heart urged you to ask him why. 

to ask why he let you walk closer. why he didn't move a muscle when you hit him and scolded him. why he would sleep for hours on end so you could wake him, and he could look at you, touch you, do all these things for longer than your heart could handle, and then repeat it all the next day without saying a single word.

you didn't have the courage to, of course, because you were just friends. 

so you didn't say anything, and neither did he.

———

it was after a long fervour of party streamers, violin concertos, cake and booze on the sunny, that you were resting near the bow of the ship.

the sound of light waves rolling and crashing down replaced the hollering shouts of your once drunken, but now sleeping, crewmates. it seemed everyone was knocked out cold. it was so quiet now. what a party, the strawhats could throw.

you contently gazed up at the stars above, ones that seemed to glisten only for the ocean below, and you wondered if they knew how radiant they looked from millions of light years away. and then you wondered how the world would look from up that high, if you could trade places with the stars. 

you figured from such a distance as theirs, it would be quite an eyesore to try to see anything. 

maybe you had been looking up at the stars for too long, thinking about them for too long, that you didn't see when exactly roronoa zoro walked up beside you, built arms resting on the ship's railing. your eyes fluttered closed.

 no, you really didn't see him. 

clink clink clink.

the sound was enough to know. 

without hesitance, his name droned out of your lips in a sigh, "zoro, how many drinks did you have?" you leaned against the railing. 

he grunted. when you opened your eyes, his gaze was already fixated on you. 

"lost count." 

the feather-like waft of the wind caused his earrings to softly chime and glisten, moonlight framing the crystal gold just as lavishly as it did his jawline. god. even the moon was weak to handsome men. 

you hummed, gaze drifting downwards to his chest, absentmindedly, "i guess when you can hold your liquor, it's easy to forget, huh?" 

he nodded, and for a moment you both stilled in each others presence, the cold of the railing, the stillness of wind and sea from above as below.

"why are you awake?" he asked, breaking the soft quiet in the air. 

"hm? oh. don't you remember?" you turned to him, "i'm on night duty for the week." 

"oh." his posture lowered with understanding, "so that's why you weren't there when i..." zoro stopped. his mouth closed almost instantaneously after the sentence, his eyes darting to the ground. 

you tilted your head in confusion, inviting him to continue, "when you...?"

he opened his mouth to speak again, turning to you, but he had no words left to say once you came into his view. your puzzled yet soft expression, the wrinkle in your brow, the way you leaned ever so slightly torwards him, so ardently for him to finish his sentence. 

you were listening to him. really listening. that very fact filled the swordsman with a hesitant kind of dread, and no longer could he find the words he meant to say.

all of a sudden it felt they weighed more, with the way you were looking at him that night.

his jaw tightened, heavy eyes giving your mouth a once over before shaking his head and clearing his throat.

"s' nothing, forget it."

———

[anonbinaryweirdo]

While it may seem a bit of an uncomfortable scent to have to constantly breathe in, the smell of the sweat that was faded into his clothes; and the smudges of dirt scattered about in his hair, matching how dirty his outfit already was; it wasn't exactly what one would describe as a pleasant scent . But it was fine. His gloves may be a little—just barely—damped in both water and blood; almost completely filthy and battered, but you wouldn't want anything more than the feel of it. To feel the quarter of that palm, of that very same glove against your skin, in your hair, squeezing you tightly.

"shhhh.." he pressed his chapped lips to the root of your nose, his heart only further breaking at the sound of your quiet, hardly concealed sob. Childe gently cupped your face in his hands, bringing your eyes to meet his own blue ones. His eyes, they never did carry a certain spark like any other, not since he saw the light of the outside world again after three months of blood and darkness.

But, you were always an exception. Just seeing you would bring an invisible shine to his eyes—one that no one could bring about.

His eyes were almost like an ocean; still, but only on the outside. Gaze into it, and you'd see the same thing as everyone else. They grew fierce during a fit of rage, like the waves of water flowing aggressively in a storm. You never knew what you were in for, just by staring into the surface. You never knew what was beneath it all.

But if you got the special chance of diving deeper into the hues of thick blue, if you get the chance of exploring the one place everyone else wouldn't dare tread into, you would see that it was full of life. It would consist of some dangers, of course, yes, but there was a sparkle that was shamelessly present, compared to what was shown outside.

and Childe believes, with a full heart, that he wouldn't even have one if not for you.

"I'm here now." he reminds you, trying to calm you with his voice and full promises. "and i'm not going anywhere. I promise."

You sniffle, looking up at your lover with wet, red eyes. you want to trust his words — and you do — it's just...

you needed to be sure.

You bring up a weak arm, battered in blood seeping through the ripped cloth, and hold out your pinkie. Your hand shakes. He knows what you're searching for and smiles.

He locks his pinkie with yours, and takes a deep breath.

“You make a pinky promise, you keep it all your life.

If I break this pinkie promise, you throw me on the ice.

The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend,

The frost will freeze my tongue off so I never lie again.”

He doesn't let go of your pinkie, even after the chant is over. Instead, he brings your locked fingers to his lips, and presses a tender kiss to your curled one. "Is that better? Do you believe me now?"

you nod.

You've always believed him. He's never failed to be there for you, to protect you when you needed protection. and he's proved that, time and time again. He's proved that today. When your life was flashing before your eyes, when all the fight had left your body and you were helpless and surrounded by foes—all you needed was to blink and suddenly the grass was red.

You don't know how he did it. How he knew you needed him.

But you were glad he knew. You don't know what you would've done without him there.

And he wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here.

[bornagainmurdock]

maybe this time you'll listen

author's note: happy one week until the ddba finale! rainy season makes my migraines so much worse so i offer you this <3

content: 18+ ONLY, smut, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, sadist!matt, dom!matt, masochist!sub!reader, impact play, over the knee hand spanking, domestic discipline, punishment, begging, choking, reader has migraines, aftercare

word count: 2.1k

Matt paced around the entryway of the apartment, fingers figeting with the watch on his left hand, sliding the band back and forth over his wrist bone. He knew you'd be home any minute, and then, he'd get exactly what he needed.

When you entered the apartment, keys clanking still from unlocking the door, Matt immediately pivoted and made his way to your body. His hands grabbed at your hips, sliding down to your waist before pressing you against the closing door behind you, pressing until he heard it hitch.

He didn't move to kiss you, just held you there in the silence.

Matt waited a moment before speaking, "Do you think I am happy right now?"

You responded promptly, but with a smirk, "Well I don't why you wouldn't be."

Matt could hear your smile as you spoke. Today you were going to play the hard game, and today, this delighted him.

You took in a shallow breath, staring up at Matt. He still had his glasses on and his suit. His shoes were still double knotted, his briefcase hasn't made it more than a foot from the door, leaning against the monstera planter.

"Do you wanna guess why I might be upset?" Matt sneered, pressing some of his body weight onto you.

"I really haven't a clue, Counsellor." You joked, catching Matt off guard.

His hand snaked up your body, following up your hip bones, stomach, middle of your chest, and then to the base of your neck where he teased for a brief moment before wrapping his calloused fingers around your neck. His touch barely grazed your skin. This was Matt's warning before he pressed his fingers into the side of your neck.

You nodded lightly, enough for Matt to feel, and then you felt his fingers press in. Still light and gentle, but growing.

"Think you're funny, huh?" Matt slightly chuckled.

"You know, I do!" You responded chipperly, closing your eyes to fully enjoy the sensation of his hand on your neck.

"I think I told you to stay home today. Didn't I?" Matt leaned down to be face level with you. His nose slightly brushing yours.

"I told you my migraine wasn't that bad."

"I didn't ask how bad it was. I told you to stay home and take a day off. When's the last time you actually took a break from work?"

"Maybe a week ago? I don't remember, Matt." You pouted.

"It was two and a half months ago, not counting federal holidays and weekends. Sometimes you even worked those. And you've been staying late every night for the last week. You need a proper break, clearly." Matt ranted.

"I can't just miss work."

"You haven't taken a sick day yet this year and when I tried to wake you up this morning, which is rare on its own, you threw a pillow at me and went back to sleep." Matt kept his hand on your neck but loosened his grip, allowing you space to talk.

"I was extra tired."

"No, you had a bad migraine that you pushed too hard through. How much tylenol did you take to make it through the work day?" Matt quipped.

"The correct amount and no more. And I made it, that's all that matters." You retorted.

"You didn't listen to me, and you know what happens when you don't listen." Matt was stern in his voice, but treaded lightly, the last thing he wanted to do is make the situation worse.

He was right. You had woken up with a bad migraine, and you had been on a strict tylenol regimen to make it through the day. And maybe it still hurt. And maybe staring at a screen all day didn't help.

"I know. I'm sorry, Matt."

"First, you are going to go change into comfy clothes and then we are going to reconvene at the couch. Do you understand?" Matt removed his hand from your neck and listened carefully to your heart beat to make sure this, and what was going to happen next, was not only okay, but exciting.

"Yes, Matt." Yoi responded, head bowed.

"Alright, go."

As you walked away, Matt swatted at your ass, catching the side of your hip. When you yipped, Matt smiled, also making his way to the couch to sit and wait for you.

Matt listened as your undressed and put on a pair of his boxers and an oversized shirt, putting away your work clothes as you went.

When you emerged from the bedroom, Matt was sat at the middle of the couch, suit still crisp and handsome. His hands rested on his lap and he faced forward, waiting patiently.

"C'mhere, you know what to do." Matt spoke as you approached.

Once you reached the couch, you leaned over, laying your body across Matt's lap, feet barely touching the ground, hands reaching down to balance.

"Alright there wiggles, get comfy. Hands behind your back." Matt shifted slightly allowing your body to settle into his thighs. Once comfortable, you clasped your hands behind your lower back. "You know what we have to do first."

"Yes, Matt."

"You know that when I tell you to do something it is in your best interest. And if you disagree with me, we have a conversation about it so we can be on the same page. Instead what did you do?" Matt began his lecture.

"I told you I wasn't going to go to work and then waited for you to leave to go to the offie before getting ready myself." You pouted, closing your eyes and breathing slowly to center yourself.

"Before I left, we had time to talk about it and make the right choice for your body. You have been working extra hard and extra long hours lately. We both know that that can trigger migraines."

"I just-" You cut in.

"I'm speaking, you are not. You know its a bad sign when I wake you up in the morning. You needed a break, and even after I called in for you, you still went to work and made your migraine worse. That's no way to take care of yourself."

You waited a pause before speaking, not wanting to interrupt Matt again, "I thought it would go away throughout the day. I had a project I really wanted to finish and I was irritated that I didn't feel go, so I went in anyways. I'm sorry, Matt."

"You know not to apologize to me. You should apologize to yourself for pushing your body and brain too hard."

You sighed at his words.

"C'mon, apologize to yourself." Matt pushed.

You took a deep breath before beginning, "I'm sorry for not listening to my body and pushing through. It made me feel worse physically and mentally throughout the day. I'm sorry."

"Good. Now how many spanking do you think you deserve for this infraction?" Matt asked.

"Maybe two, hmmm, three?" You knew it'd be a long shot, but it was worth it.

"You still think you're funny, huh? I'm thinking something in the 20 to 30 range. How does that sound?" Matt laughed at your underestimation.

"i think that sounds egregious. Four might do the trick." You teased back.

"You know come to think of it. Let's go 31!"

"31!?" You shouted back, turning your head up to look at Matt.

"Don't make it 32. Now count each one."

He started slow as he always did. The first one always felt worse than it actually was from the shock.

Once his hand made contact you responded, "One."

"How did that feel?" Matt rubbed his hands over your backside lightly, playing with the fabric of the boxers. "Just as bad as not listeneing?"

"Felt incredible. Nothing like an impact punishment for a masochist. Maybe I'll misbehave again tomorrow." You giggled.

Matt brought his hand down three times in succession, spanking the same spot each time. You whimpered out, "Two, three, four."

"And if you do, it'll be 60 spanks and I'll place them all in the same spot. Right here."

Matt spanked you four more times, this time right where your thigh met your ass on your right side.

You counted out those numbers, still recovering from the quick swats.

Five more swats were placed across your ass, moving locations each time.

"Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Matt?" You whined.

"Yes?" He rubbed at the center of both cheeks, enjoying how your skin heated up beneath the fabric.

"Can you make sure it bruises? Just so I don't forget my lesson tomorrow." You asked earnestly, panting for air.

"Of course, baby."

You received five more swats in succession, all landing in one spot, harder with each hit.

"13, 14, 15, 16, 17." You gasped.

"Halfway there, or a little more than. How does it feel?" Matt pressed into the spot he had just swatted several times.

"Mmmm, yah. Yah, like I've learned my lesson and won't do it again."

"I'm not quite convinced. Better finish up the last 14." Matt teased.

For the next minute, you both sat in silence. Matt's hands hovered over your body never touching. He waited until you lifted your hips just slightly from his body to administer the next series of spanks.

18, 19, 20, and 21 came down harshly, all on the left side. As you counted aloud, Matt began the next four. 22, 23, 24, and 25 all landed on the right side mirroring the previous four.

"Matt!" You gasped after, catching your breath once again, hips shaking into and away from his body at the same time.

Matt placed a hand on your lower back to still you, forced you back into position over his thighs. Once still, he swatted twice more.

"26, 27."

"This is such a fun game for me. How fast can I make you a whiny mess in my lap? How fast can I make you beg for the next one?" Matt teased, raising his hands from your body but never coming back down. "Just four left. How bad do you want them?"

"Please, Matt. Your hands feel so good. I need another one please."

"What do you need? Explicitly." Matt smiled through his words

"I need you to spank me. I need you to leave a bruise of your handprint on my ass so that tomorrow I am reminded of this every time I sit down, every time I move. Matt, please. I need you to hit me." You begged and squirmed in his lap, sentence speeding up as you spoke.

"So good for me."

28 and 29 hit opposite sit spots. The skin there was tender and raw, already red blooming into purple.

"You bruise so well. Doesn't even take much. Now, the last two, I want you to count and apologize with each one. Got it?" Matt asked.

"Yes."

Matt brought his hand down again and with the hit you spoke, "30. I am sorry for not listening to you and behaving. You were right and I should have stayed home today to recover and take care of myself."

"Good. Last one, okay?"

Matt spanked you one last time. By far the hardest hit of the session.

"31. I'm sorry." You panted, taking in the final moment of the session.

"Good. You're so good for me. Let's take a few breaths together."

Matt guided you to calm your breathing for a few rounds before speaking again. "Alright, let's get you up here. C'mhere."

You stood, only to be lowered into Matt's lap once again, this time straddling him, arms around his neck. He reached for your face, holding both cheeks and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"You are forgiven. You did a good job taking your punishment you goofy masochist. How're you feeling right now?" Matt spoke softly into your ear.

"Better. I shouldn't have gone to work today. I think I still have a migraine, but I feel way less guilty right now." You spoke into Matt's shoulder, into the fabric of his suit jacket.

"Let's rest here a few minutes and then lets get you a nice bath going, and we cna have a quiet dinner of whatever you want in the dark. And then you can take your next dose of pain meds. I'm sure yours are wearing off right about now." Matt kissed at your head gently.

"How do you know that?"

"I know everything. That's what makes me a good lawyer, and an even better boyfriend."

[aangelinakii]

THE TEDDY THAT NEEDS TWO PARENTS.

— not his partner, not his lover.

summary : you're sick of this situationship you're in with tim drake. it's time for a change, and you're going to get it. one way or another.

note : mention of sexual occurances ? but it's not explicitly said it's more of like an alluded to sexual stuffs,, and also mentions of food issues and also tim is toxic !!!!!!

requested !

he's standing here, paid with his own money, throwing rubber balls at tin cans to win you a stupid teddy bear — but it's the biggest one on the shelf, so you're not too upset.

it's just... isn't this what boyfriends do? you know, for the people they're dating?

and, whatever this was between you and tim drake, it's not dating.

he throws his final ball, with a single tower of three cans left; he started with three balls, three towers, and managed to knock the first two down. if he misses this, you'll pretend to be upset, but then give him a kiss anyway as a thanks for participating.

you can't watch. your hands come to shield your eyes from the loss he's about to suffer.

ding! ding! ding!

from beside you, tim cheers and the attendant behind the stand gives a laugh. "nice one, what can i get for you?"

tim's voice grows farther away as he moves off to get the teddy bear, and you reluctantly move your hands away. he's probably just joking around to make you think he did it.

but when your eyes land on the table, which once owned three towers, you find it mostly empty, save for the few tin cans toppled to their sides. he... he did it?

you turn, and tim's coming back, his smile wide and shiny, the white stuffed teddy the same size as the length of his torso. "did you see?" he grins, holding out the bear for you, its head bobbing to the side, looking like its being held up by the scarlet red ribbon tied there. "three towers down just like that."

a surprised laugh huffs past your lips, and you have to try to pretend you're not surprised — not when it comes to tim, you shouldn't be surprised anymore.

"yeah, you were just great!" you reply, taking the bear beneath the shoulders and holding it to your side. he is really cute... or she. you should name it, but the only name you can think of is tim, and you're not sure you want to remember your new teddy by him.

seeming to mimic your action with the teddy bear, tim loops his arm around your back, pulling you snug into his side as you step away from the stand, the man stacking the towers back up again behind you. "where to next?" tim asks, squeezing the fabric of your clothes beneath his palm lightly. "i'm kind of hungry after all that throwing."

this time a real laugh comes out. "throwing? you barely threw them hard enough to kill a fly if it went past."

cheeky smile on his face, tim removes his arm to sling around your shoulders. "well, i saw a burger truck that smelled really good when we passed earlier. you up for burgers?"

"as long as you're paying." despite what could've sounded self-depricating, your tone told tim you were joking. he still squeezes your shoulder regardless.

"don't worry, i've got you tonight," he smiles, peering down at you beneath crescented eyes that come with his grin. it doesn't seem his lips are budging any time soon. "everything on me. gotham doesn't always have the carnival."

see? in this light, the purples and reds and greens flashing from the ferris wheel you tread beneath, he could be a boyfriend. the words he chooses, sure to melt your heart, if only you weren't thinking the entire time about how he could be the one to mend it.

yet he seems to break it every time.

every time he leaves your place, after spending the night in your arms, or you in his; every time he walks past you like he hasn't seen you most at your vulnerable, whether it be tears streaming down your face or stripped to your under garments. every time you're together with other people and he refers to you as his friend.

just his friend.

not his partner, not his lover. nothing of the sort.

and then he has the nerve to take you on a date to the fair like a good boyfriend would?

when you come back to your senses, you're standing next in line at the burger van tim said he wanted food from. to be honest, your appetite disappeared long ago; you can't seem to stomach food in his presence.

but he squeezes your shoulder again and smiles down at you and you think you'll ask him just to get you some fries. if you're hungry later you'll eat when you're alone.

finally the group in front moves away, and tim steps up to the cook leaning out the window, where delicious fumes of oil-soaked meats and spices of condiments are floating through. "hey! can i get a large cheeseburger, everything inside, and a pepsi max?" tim orders, and then looks down at you, the light from inside the van casting shadows on his face that make him look almost soft. almost. "you craving much?"

it takes you a minute, your mind too focused on how the light can change the way your heart beats for him; if you can't see the entire face that keeps letting you down, it seems to not think anything's wrong. "just some fries, please."

"great," tim smiles, turning back to nod at the man, and he reels his arm back from over your shoulders to dig into his pocket for his wallet. "you find somewhere while i pay, okay? i'll come with the food."

no need to tell you twice.

when you detach yourself from him, your entire side is burning with the remnants of tim drake, his casual kindness, lingering smiles, such a great contrast to how he sounded on the phone the other night when you asked him to hang out; deep sighs, long pauses. it's like he's an entirely different person.

your thoughts keep you occupied long enough to see tim return, balancing a cardboard box of loaded fries, his wrapped burger and his cup of pepsi in his arms. you found a picnic bench nearby, and purposely sat your new teddy in the space beside you so tim would have to sit opposite you instead.

maybe if you looked at him hard enough you could hate him.

tim sits down before you none the wiser. he places the food down and pokes the box of fries over to your section of the wooden table. you probably won't end up touching them, and he'll eat them all, which is fair, considering it's his money.

he begins to eat his burger like he can't read the room; not like he ever had that skill with you anyway.

still, you find it hard to believe he works alongside batman, once acting as his main sidekick — and he still can never pick up on your frustration towards him.

or maybe it's that he just chooses not to.

"tim," you say firmly, causing him to look up from his burger, but continue chewing all the while. "can we talk?"

"yeah, anything," you just about make out through his mouthful of beef and cheese and bap bun.

"can you stop eating for this?"

his chew pauses, and you can tell in the couple seconds he looks at you that he's weighing up the situation. he resumes crunching down his mouthful and places the burger down on its wrapping, swallowing his food.

now his attention is on you — fully, for what feels like the first time in months — the words feel like they're about to disappear, like you're going to back out and leave this unspoken.

no, you have to.

you have him now, you have to.

"i... guess i just want to say i'm not really sure this is," you finally say.

tim doesn't make an effort to respond, or even seem like he understands what you mean.

"like..." oh, god, here come the stupid words. "what are we?"

that seems to do it.

his lips part like he wants to say something but stopped quickly, and he flinches like you're holding your fists up at him, ready to strike, but you haven't moved, and he doesn't speak.

does he even know?

"like, i know we're friends, but it feels like we're on a date right now," you further explain, feelings hot and heavy in your chest. "and it's not like you asked me to go on a date with you, you just said let's go to the carnival, but i feel like you're treating me... i don't know. like we're actually together."

a pause.

"and you always treat me like that, except for when we're with other people, then you don't. then you act like you don't want anything to do with me at all."

his eyes have flitted down to stare at his burger, almost like he's expecting it to grow arms and legs and come to his aid.

"so i guess i just want an explanation."

seeing this as the end of your rant, tim lets out a great sigh.

he brings his hands up from beneath the table, resting his elbows on the wood and steepling his fingers, where his chin rests on the tips. he won't look at you, but he's incredibly silent, so much so that the screams and laughs of fairgoers around you seems to grow louder in the absence of his voice.

the silence alone urges you to reach out for the still-untouched box of fries, and you pull it towards yourself, reaching in for a salty chip, eager to pass the time until he dare speaks.

you've stopped counting how many chips you've eaten when you can make out his voice over the round of screams as the rollercoaster zooms past.

"i'm sorry," is all he says, but you push the box of fries a smidgen away, an instinctive reaction to him. you deserve to unlearn that.

your stare is hot on him, and even in the lack of daylight you can tell he's squirming under the pressure.

"i shouldn't be dragging you along," he continues sheepishly, avoiding your eyes like his life depends on it. "i... i suppose it's just easier to be like this than to man up and actually ask you. and you've shown me you'll just... god, this is horrible."

"no, tell me," you answer almost immediately. "tell me so i can do better. i don't want to be stupid."

"you're not—" the ghost of a smile dances along his lips. "you're not stupid. it's my fault, not yours at all in this. i was being selfish, taking advantage of what i could get. and what i could get was you, i suppose."

even though he's being honest, which you want, you can't help but feel a twang in the pit of your stomach.

"you do like me, though, right?" you ask him before you can stop yourself. you sound like a child, but you can justify it by reminding yourself of all the mixed signals he's been giving you the past few months.

this is what causes that small smile to widen, show the truth of his feelings, heart to spill out all over the table. he gives a small nod, like he can't believe he's doing it, and gingerly places a hand on the table, palm facing up.

he takes a small breath, words uncertain as he speaks next. "i totally understand if you get up right now and choose to never see me again — like, i really, really get it — but... i don't know, i really like you, i think i just need to unlearn some things about myself. would you, i don't know, stay around and teach me better?"

now is the time his eyes finally meet yours, and he's leaning ever so slightly across the table towards you. should you do it?

"i know i was stringing you along, but i don't think i waited for a minute to actually think about what i was doing."

even though every pang of sadness and ache from the past five months is telling you not to, something stronger behind your ribs is telling you to take his hand.

and so you take it.

"this bear is gonna need two parents," you muster up the courage to say, a bashful smile shining through.

tim even grins — something you're not used to being because of you — and he stands up slightly to lean into you, his hand still gripping yours, but the other comes to place lightly on the side of your head. a soft peck lands on your crown, possibly the softest tim has ever been with you.

when he sits back down, his free hand finds his burger again. "can i eat yet?"

"yes, you can eat," you chuckle in response.

although it's clear he's trying to hide it behind his big bite of burger, tim's grinning, and his eyes fold into soft crescents. "so, does this mean i'm your boyfriend?"

"it fucking better, you dick."

the words are harsh but your tone is sweet, spoken alongside a smile that causes your cheeks to hurt.

[blitzyn]

welcome home

leon s. kennedy x ftm!reader

request: Is it possible for you to do a Leon Kennedy x ftm reader where Leon's been away for months and it's just sweet sex? Maybe a hint of cockwarming(Leon falling asleep while still inside), loads of praise and just in general body worship stuff! - Anonymous

synopsis: leon comes back home after being months away for a mission and he's eager to feel you again

a/n -> this was actually my first time writing cunnilingus i was STRUGGLING but all in all this was exciting to do i had fun. anyways alhaitham next i haven't done him in a while. ALSO. IM SORRY I KEEP CHANGING THEMES AND USERS 💔

wc -> 2.4k

cw -> cunnilingus, fingering, praise, p in v sex, cockwarming, ftm reader - use of the word 'pussy' and 'cunt' for reader's genitalia, brief description of top surgery scars, soft leon (heart eyes), not beta read

It was silent when Leon finally made his way back home, the soft moonlight shone brightly, as if treading a path for him.

He was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of your body in his arms as he held you tightly, to smell the scent of your hair, and to hear the sound of your laughter that sent butterflies to his stomach no matter how many times he's heard it.

His keys jangled loudly in the silent night as he unlocked the front door, swiftly entering the house to make his way upstairs. He knew you were asleep since the lights weren't on, as made evident by your figure covered in blankets. Slowly, he made his way closer before sitting on his side of the bed, creating a dip in the mattress. Gently, tenderly, he reached out and shook your shoulder, chuckling softly at the sight of you taking a moment to stare at him.

Your drowsy eyes lit up in instant recognition as you sat up eagerly to take him in your arms in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you again, [Name]," he said, burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Leon," you said, relief flooding through your veins, grateful to see him home. Reluctantly, you pulled away, watching the way his eyes darted all across your face to take in your features. "You've been gone for so long. I was so worried you'd..."

"I know, sweetheart," he muttered, cupping your cheeks to gently rub them with his thumbs. "And I'm sorry for that."

You nodded, holding onto his wrists. He took a second to gaze into your eyes before he pressed his lips against yours, cherishing the way they melded together with practiced ease. You sighed contentedly, leaning into him to deepen the kiss.

In need of air, you moved back, only for Leon to follow after you, refusing to take his lips off of you just yet.

"Hey—Leon!" You laughed, trying to tilt your head away from his onslaught of kisses. "I still need to breathe."

"Your lungs can wait," he jokingly said, chasing after your lips. You leaned back far enough to lie down, rendering you unable to resist his affection any longer. Not that you wanted to, anyway. Soon enough, he found himself on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face—on your forehead, nose, eyelids, cheeks, and lips before moving downward towards your neck.

At first, they were innocent, but when he tilted his head and sucked on the piece of flesh that pulled a moan from you, you knew then that neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight.

"Leon," you gasped out, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. "You just got back... Aren't you tired?"

"Honestly, yeah," he admitted, sliding his hands over your shirt to caress your waist. "But I'll be fine," he muttered against the column of your throat, pressing his lips to it for a chaste kiss before sitting up.

"The question is, are you tired?" He asked, scanning your expression for any lies you might've tried to hide. "I don't wanna push you."

You shook your head reassuringly despite having woken up not too long ago. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."

He let out an amused huff through his nose, the corners of his lips quirking up in a smirk. "No promises." He gently tugged on your shirt in a silent request to take it off, swiftly pulling it up and over your head as soon as you nodded.

"Christ, Leon, your hands are cold!" You let out a surprised yelp, arching your back in a futile attempt to get away. He only laughed, sliding his hands all over your stomach mercilessly to use your body heat to warm them up until you finally relaxed.

He leaned down again, gently biting on a spot over your collarbone as he ran his tongue over it soothingly. He moved again, kissing a trail down your sternum until he took one of your perky nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. You bit your lip, watching him toy with your chest, running his fingertips along your scars. A heat pooled in your stomach as he slid lower, finding himself slotted between your legs. He watched your face intently, burying his thumbs underneath the waistband of your pants to slowly pull them off upon finding no disapproval from you, his breath hitching at the sight of your cunt.

"Fuck..." He whispered, blowing a teasing puff of air onto your clit, lips quirking up when you shivered. "Missed you and this pretty pussy," he groaned, hiking your thighs up and over his shoulders. Electricity shot down your spine when he looked up at you and gave it a quick kiss before encasing his lips around it, sucking gently.

You sighed, reaching down to comb your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response, curling his arms around your thighs to keep your legs open, squeezing the swell of them with his calloused hands. He moved down to give your pussy a long lick from your hole all the way back up to your clit and down again, savoring the taste of your juices on his tongue. He looked up through his lashes to gauge your reaction, feeling his cock throb in his pants as he softly ground his hips against the mattress.

You let out a moan when he pressed his face firmly against your cunt, eagerly sucking and flicking his tongue up and down your clit. Pressing your heels against his back, you rocked your hips, tightening your hold on his hair as you tugged on the strands.

He let go of one of your thighs, pressing two of his fingers against your hole, swiping upwards to gather some of your wetness before pushing them inside, groaning against your nub when you clenched around them. He curled them, searching for that one spot inside you that'll have you cumming in no time.

A subtle grin lifted his face when he saw you jerk, legs twitching, before diving back down to your clit. He was gentle but relentless at the same time—a blend that had you reeling for more.

"Fuck, Leon," you moaned, squirming. Your belly heaved as you looked down with half-lidded eyes, meeting his.

"That's it, baby," he muttered against your skin, giving it a harsh suck. "Moan my name just like that."

He pulled away slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices as he raised his free arm to drape it across your hip and inner thigh. The fingers inside you stopped, pressing against your G-spot while his other hand spread your pussy lips. Leaning over your crotch, he spat on your swollen clit before rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb. You shuddered, tightening around his fingers as his saliva mixed in with your fluids.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled, licking his lips. He began moving his hand again as he stared up at you with heat evident in his eyes, watching you toss your head back in ecstasy. "I could stay here for hours."

He curled and crooked his fingers, listening to the sounds of your sopping pussy around him, squeezing and trying to suck him back in whenever he moved away. "You're so wet f'me... This how much you missed me?"

"Uh-huh." You groggily nodded, rocking your hips against him. Your cunt throbbed—you were sure he could feel it—with the need to cum, legs writhing just a little bit more. You bit your lip, whining and gasping as you tensed, inadvertently trying to close your thighs around his head.

"No, don't do that," he said, taking his hand off your pulsing clit to hold one thigh open while his tricep kept your other one down. His arm ran across your lower abdomen, gently bobbing up and down with every labored breath you took. "Keep your legs open... Let me watch you cum 'round my fingers."

You could only nod, utterly drawn to the rasp of his voice and the undeniable authority in his tone. You whined when he latched back onto your sensitive clit, flicking his tongue up and down, eager to make you orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he muttered, giving your nub a firm suck. "You're so close... C'mon, give it to me." He groaned, grinding harder against the mattress as he moved faster, pushed deeper, until finally, you came around him with a loud moan.

"There we go..." He nearly came in his pants as he curled his fingers into the special spot inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. "You did so good, sweetheart. Missed watching you do that for me." Sighing, he sat back up and pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean, staring straight into your eyes.

With a grunt, he flopped beside you, turning your body so your back was flush against his chest as he ran his hands along the side of your thigh. His painfully hard cock was pressed against your ass, grinding against you leisurely.

"You wanna go all the way?" He questioned against your ear, his hot breath fanning against the shell of it to bring shivers down your spine. Even when the throbbing between your legs hadn't subsided yet, you couldn't find the need to decline.

"Thanks, baby," he said. You could hear the faint smile in his voice as he shifted around behind you, listening to the sound of rustling fabric and the jangling of his belt buckle. He tossed his pants to the floor haphazardly before swiftly pulling his cock out of his boxers. It throbbed fervently, leaking with precum and leaving your skin slick when he dragged it along the inside of your thighs.

He grit his teeth as he rubbed the shaft of his dick against your pussy, mouthing at the back of your neck before he slowly pushed his way inside you again. The two of you let out satisfied noises, savoring the way he stretched you out so perfectly.

"You're so tight..." his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth, roaming his hands along your body. "You were made to take my cock like this, huh?"

"Mhm," you signed contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. "Couldn't touch myself without you here."

"Poor boy," Leon teased breathlessly, snaking an arm under you to toy with your nipples, ghosting the tips of his fingers along your top surgery scars every so often. His free hand moved down to rest on your belly, gently pressing down to feel himself thrusting inside you. It was far too late at night to do anything intensive, but both of you were satisfied with just soaking in each other's presence. He held you close to him, whispering those sweet words that you've been aching to hear ever since he had to leave for his mission.

He was already on the verge of cumming just by eating you out, and it was no secret to either of you with the way he twitched and throbbed. He spent countless nights fucking his fist trying to imagine it was you, but his calloused hand could never compare to your soft and warm cunt.

"Fuuuck..." Leon drawled out, fucking you a bit faster. "I'm so close..."

"Already?" You laughed quietly, hissing when he pulled about halfway only to ram himself back inside in response before resuming his relaxed pace. "Okay! Sorry, sorry."

You bit your lip and let out a pleased sound when his free hand shifted itself to pat your clit before massaging it, lifting your own arm back to run your fingers through his hair again. You turned your head, connecting your lips with his passionately. You moaned into his mouth when your sensitivity from earlier began pooling in your abdomen again, earning a beautiful groan from the man behind you when you tightened reflexively.

Breaking away, you lazily pushed against him in sync with his thrusts, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when you could feel the heat burning brighter in your stomach.

"Fuck... That's it, sweetheart," he panted, tugging you closer, fucking you just a bit harder. "Cum for me again. Please, pretty boy, I wanna feel you cum." He rubbed your clit with just the right amount of pressure, brushing up against your G-spot with every thrust. He sucked and licked and kissed the skin of your neck, littering it with hickeys and shallow bites.

"Shit, Leon, 'm gonna... gonna cum again," you gasped, your hips jerking. You could feel him nod in response, but he was in no rush to get you to orgasm. He maintained the pace until he felt you squeeze tight around him and let out a loud moan, your body tensing and convulsing for a moment. The sight and feeling of you cumming sent him right over the edge as he swiftly pulled out with a wet squelch, pressing your thighs around his slick cock to fuck the plush flesh.

With an audible groan, milky white ropes of cum spurt out of the tip of his cock, landing on your skin and the bedsheets in front of you. He pressed himself flush against your body until his cock stopped throbbing and jerking before finally relaxing with a satisfied sigh.

"That was so good, [Name]," Leon praised, nuzzling into the back of your neck. "You did amazing. Like always."

"I know," you responded swiftly, feigning arrogance. But you could hardly keep up the facade, softly laughing at yourself. "But you did amazing, too."

"I know," he parroted playfully, giving you a quick kiss to the nape of your neck when he suddenly shifted to push his softening cock back inside your hole. He caressed you reassuringly when he felt you tense, explaining that he wasn't going to move. Not too much, at least.

"Now go back to sleep," he instructed, exhaustion taking root in his voice as he pulled the covers over your spent bodies. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace, listening to the sound of your soft breathing. "We'll clean up tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes with an exasperated huff through your nose. "Fine." Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling your body relax. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

cross-posted on ao3

[netherfeildren]

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; Brief mention of virginity loss; Brief blood mention; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him. 

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude. 

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it. 

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse. 

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

-

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you. 

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want. 

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks. 

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come. 

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too. 

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do. 

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby. 

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to. 

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap. 

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also. 

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you. 

Sameness. 

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as. 

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms. 

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it. 

“Good girl,” he says now with voice. 

-

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved. 

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else. 

Your love too. 

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now. 

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper. 

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness. 

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one. 

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance. 

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you. 

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is. 

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up. 

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now. 

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership. 

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous. 

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking. 

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude. 

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world. 

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful. 

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.  

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise. 

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you. 

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well. 

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now. 

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house. 

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail. 

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him. 

He stares up at them now. 

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie. 

“A good kind or a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then. 

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game. 

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

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