#So this points to the door going further and further away from my earth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvrodite · 4 months

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keep me here (with your skin on mine again) [17.6k]

summary: it's been a long time coming. he's the bane of your existence, but there's no denying it. your roommate is hot.

cw: gn!reader, afab!reader, smut, jealousy, friends with benefits arrangement, original characters, stephanie brown cameo, intoxication, blowjobs, spit, fingering, handjobs, piv sex, minor voyeurism, references to past voyeurism, masturbation, slight dubcon re multiple orgasms as there isn't a discussion but it's consensual, references to reader's clothing – they wear clothes described as 'short' and 'tight', and 'slutty' at one point (not degradingly), mention of reader wearing a hair towel, presumably after a shower, use of 'cunt', arguments, miscommunication + reader and jason are both petty and imperfect !! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason just about falls over himself laughing when you open the door and immediately you scowl. He doesn’t say a word, teal eyes taking in your outfit before his beautiful face screws up, a loud guffaw punching out of him. The force of his amusement is strong enough that he sinks to his knees, clutching the door-frame to steady himself.

“Oh–” you scoff, and he has to yank his fingers away before the door slams on them. “You’re so insufferable!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You hear a pause before he dissolves into laughter again, and you resist the urge to stamp your foot.

“No you aren’t. What the fuck do you want?”

“I can’t talk to you through the door, can you open up?”

You pout. “No.”

“Please? I swear I won’t laugh.”

You make a face at that, disbelieving. “You’re full of shit.”

Another muffled snort through the door. “Okay, I swear I’ll try not to laugh,” Jason amends.

You open the door and he struggles to keep a straight face. You know what you must look like, the hair towel, the pair of pink, heart patterned, fluffy pyjama pants and your bed socks.

“I’ll close this door again,” you remind him when you catch him eyeing the print on your socks, crossing your arms impatiently and he nods, biting his lip to compose himself.

“I thought you were going out.” Jason voices this out loud and you cut an unimpressed look his way when his voice wobbles with the weight of keeping his amusement at bay.

“I am.”

“Oh. Is that the look for tonight?”

You sneer at him. “Is this what you came to ask me?”

“It’s all I wanna talk about now,” he admits, shrugging. He points at your pants and you bat his hand away, hissing. “Where on earth did you get these from?”

“They’re comfortable–”

“I’ll say.”

“–and I got them from my parents, ass hat,” you finish pointedly, hands on your hips.

“Do they hate you?” he drops his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, eyes widening into faux sympathy and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, man. What do you want? You’re interrupting my getting ready time.”

He lets out a breath obnoxiously, leaning into the door frame.

“Yeah, for bed, it seems.” You stare at him blankly, fighting the urge to strangle him with your bare hands. “Anyway, do you have my charger? Think I left it in here last night.”

Briefly, you consider telling him that you haven’t actually, despite knowing exactly where it is, having been plugged into the outlet between your bed and the wall during your marathon of Gilmore Girls last night. You end up opening the door, waving a hand dismissively at him to check for himself before you move further into your room, returning to your walk-in to contemplate your outfit for the night.

Jason enters the room and you see him move around in your periphery as you push the hangers around. He lingers in your room after he finds the charger, twisting the cable around his fingers absentmindedly.

“You should stick with that outfit,” he remarks, taking a seat on your bed. You look over your shoulder and he elaborates, helpfully, “I think it’ll be a real hit at the club.”

“I’m sure,” you say dryly. “The men’ll be falling all over me.”

He cracks a delighted smirk, nodding. “Exactly.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” you inform him, emerging from the wardrobe and tilting your head to the door. “C’mon, you found your charger. I need to get ready.”

He boos you but stands up anyway and you push him out, palms pressing into his shoulder blades. Jason, ever resistant to making anything easy for you, ever, leans his weight into you, slowing down to a crawl. “So mean. You don’t wanna hang out? You’re breaking my heart, here. I thought we were best friends forever.”

“We’ll be best friends forever if you get out,” you retort, shoving him over the threshold and he cackles.

He’s still laughing long after the door slams behind him.

Jason becomes your roommate on a Wednesday morning. You remember this because you have a full day of classes on Wednesdays, and you’d spent the night before anxiously cleaning in preparation for his arrival. He moves in while you’re in class, and sends you a text as you’re getting out at 5 that he’s getting takeout and did you want anything from the Korean restaurant a few blocks away?

You get home to the smell of tteokbokki, fried chicken and japchae on the counter. Your return home, usually greeted by the sound of silence, is met with quite possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever met in your life in your kitchen, looking up from his phone and nodding a casual ‘hey’.

It isn’t as though you aren’t expecting this. You’d met him several times before, at gatherings and mutual friends’ birthday parties. Still, Jason’s beauty manages to leave you reeling every single time. You stare for a moment, startled, before rushing out a jerky, “Hi!”

He’s silent for a moment before he parts his lips. You track the motion, feeling your throat dry at the awkward, lopsided grin he shoots you.

“Wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat together, or...”

Your eyes widen and you take a few steps forward. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you to start without me, I didn’t think I’d take this long, there was construction on the road and we had to go a different way–”

“You took the bus?” he questions, eyebrows creasing and you nod.

“It’s easier, there’s a stop a block away and it drops me off five minutes from campus,” you tell him, and he nods slowly. “Anyway, I’m sorry, you’re probably hungry, you didn’t have to wait for me.”

He shakes his head, disappointed. “You know, our relationship’s already off to a terrible start, Roomie. I really don’t know how you’ll come back from this.”

You stare for a moment before it hits you: he’s making a joke. You let out a laugh, moving further into the apartment. “You’ll survive a few more minutes, I’m sure.”

“I’m withering away as we speak,” he calls out after you.

You break in your newfound coexistence over rice cakes and stir fried noodles, sweet and sour sauce staining your fingers, sitting at the coffee table while Jason goes through the things he needs to get done, reruns of an old show playing on the TV that neither of you pay much attention to.

“We can go together,” you suggest, when he mumbles something about picking up his groceries, typing out a list on his phone. He looks up in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected the offer.

“You sure?”

You shrug, spearing a rice cake onto your fork. “If you want. I need to get a few things anyway.”

He considers it a moment longer, before nodding. “Okay.”

It takes some getting used to, having this man in your apartment. A week in, you nearly scream when you walk into the kitchen half asleep to find him at the stove – the lack of a shirt is no help in calming your racing heart. But the weeks pass by, and Jason becomes less of the attractive man you share a living space with, morphing into something else entirely as he gets comfortable. By the time you hit the three month mark, his looks are the least of your concern – he’s the bane of your fucking existence.

Kind of.

The two of you settle into your routine and you find out that Jason has a mouth on him. He delights in riling you up, tourmaline eyes flashing with barely constrained glee when you react in kind – bitching at him for coming into the kitchen when it’s your turn to make dinner and offering unbidden suggestions, or squabbling over who got it wrong when you forget to tell him to take a turn on your way to go grocery shopping. You maintain the last one is his fault. How can you forget the route to the store when we’ve gone nearly a hundred times by now?

He somehow manages to draw it out of you, the bitchiness you’ve been carrying with you since middle school and have tried to bury down–nobody likes a smart mouth, after all. But he doesn’t flinch from it.

If you didn’t know any better, you might even say he liked it.

– You do know better, though.

(That one night spent with your hands under the blankets and thoughts of ultramarine eyes is nobody’s business but yours.)

You meet his family. He meets your friends – the ones he doesn’t already know. You somehow end up watching a show together. His sweater lays at the foot of your bed. You’ve slept in his bed and vice versa. You’re sure he’s one of the closest friends you have. He irritates you to no end.

Bit by bit, Jason worms his way into your life and settles comfortably there.

It’s probably why your girlfriends feel so comfortable calling him on your night out and how the ensuing mess occurs.

Jason gets the call around 2 in the morning, the ringtone blaring through his skull just as he’s about to fall asleep. He jerks up, glaring groggily at his phone. He contemplates leaving it to ring, but he spies your friend’s name on the screen and he sighs, wiping a hand down his face.

They’re playing loud rap music when he gets inside, descending the stairs into the dark club. He passes girls supporting their drunken friends on their way out and gently shoulders his way through a group lingering by the double doors leading to the actual club. More than once, he feels an appreciative stare on the back of his neck but he’s preoccupied.

It takes him a moment to spot you over the crowd, squinting his eyes to make out your form through the dim lights. When he does, his throat dries.

He hadn’t seen you after he’d been shepherded out of your room, pulled into a phone call with his younger brother who’d decided that nearing midnight was the perfect time to complain at length about their father. Damian hadn’t let him go until long after you’d left the house, your voice echoing through the walls with a “I’m going! Bye!” that he’d distractedly replied to in between making the appropriate listening noises to his increasingly agitated brother.

You’re holding your friend’s hand at the bar, smiling dreamily and swaying in place when the song abruptly switches to something slower. The clothes you wear leave little to the imagination, short, tight, sinful. He bites his cheek hard, swallowing roughly as he makes his way over. Something green curls in his vision when someone gravitates closer to you, yelling something in your ear. The guy is all leery smiles and appreciative eyes, gaze lingering on the dip of your neckline.

Much to Jason’s displeasure, you don’t back away in disgust, only frowning in confusion and tapping your ear – I didn’t hear you. He repeats himself and Jason watches you process whatever it is that he’s said before a smile breaks out and you laugh, shaking your head. Your eyes glitter, and jealousy burns low in his gut. You don’t seem to realise you’ve ensnared the other man in your orbit, staring up at him over the rim of your drink.

Jason breaks through the crowd and calls your name. Miraculously, it isn’t lost to the crowd and you look away. He finds smug pleasure in the way you startle in surprise, the shape of his name on your lips. He ignores the other guy, leaning an arm against the bar and between the both of you, effectively blocking you off. God, if Dick could see him now. Just the other week, his brother had been giving him shit for the apparent territoriality over you, and he’d gone blue in the face denying it, despite the knowing look on Dick’s face.

“What are you doing here?” you reach up on your tiptoes to ask him.

“Here to take you guys home,” he shouts, leaning in to get his words across. And he doesn’t need to, but he rests his hand on your waist as he does, and you press closer, tilting your face up to pout at him.

“What?” you protest. “Nooo, it’s still early!”

He grins at you unsympathetically. “It’s nearly 3 am, baby, c’mon. You look like you’re going to fall over.”

He only realises he’s made a slip up when your eyebrows crease but you say nothing, only staring up at him with moony eyes before smiling and placing your drink down to put a hand in his, mouthing an ‘okay’. He signals to your friend behind you, who’d called him earlier and watches the exchange with interest. She turns and shouts something over her shoulder, waiting for the third of your party to finish her drink before tugging her along. The three of you hold hands and follow him through the club in single file, a sight that he’s robbed of finding any amusement because he’s trying much harder not to pop a blood vessel at having to stop every few moments. The cause is, of course, you: each time he looks over his shoulder, another man has stopped you to flirt with you. He sends up a prayer for patience, hopes anyone is listening, and continues to pull you along.

The third time, he whirls around to tug you firmly into his side, barking out a harsh, “Fuck off.” at the guy and cutting a scolding look your way for answering his advances. It’s a waste of time, because you’re just grinning up at him in amusement, giggling. He sighs, steering you in front of him and nodding for your friend to take the lead. By the time he ascends the stairs to the exit, he’s sure his blood pressure is through the roof.

“Get in the car,” he sighs and you unlatch yourself from his side – a consequence of simultaneously risking twisting your ankle a block back and falling into oncoming traffic. He’d near grabbed you by the scruff of your neck in pulling you away from the kerbside and further onto the pavement, keeping an arm around your shoulder tightly.

“Okay.” You draw out the word playfully but sink into the passenger seat obediently, your friends following suit.

He shuts your car door, and sighs once more.

The door to your apartment opens quietly closer to 5 in the morning than he’d like, and he’s glad he’s not working the next day as he trudges through the threshold with you in tow, cradling a bag of takeout carefully as you toe off your shoes.

He throws his keys carelessly onto the counter, where he knows you’ll find them when you wake up and move them to the bowl in the entryway – where your keys are meant to go, a fact you’ve reminded him of unhelpfully when he’s running late and his keys aren’t where he left them. Between now and then, he’ll forget this fact, he always somehow does.

Now, you place the paper bag next to his keys and wander away – he looks over his shoulder and finds you shoving your feet into his house slippers, a shaking hand pressed against the wall to steady yourself as you put them on. The sight sends a bolt of affection through him and he turns away, focusing on washing his hands. He calls your name once he’s done, jerks his head to the tap. You don’t protest, only leaning into his side and sticking your hands under the stream of water.

He doesn’t know why he’s not moving away. Your vantage point makes it a little awkward to wash your hands, and it’d be easier if you switched places. Still, he stays, privately, guiltily admitting that the weight of you is nice against his side. Your bare arm is soft against his, and he can smell the perfume you’d used tonight, faint but sweet. If he looks out of the corner of his eye, he can see the glitter of your necklace, thin chains resting against your collarbones and décolletage.

You bump your head against his shoulder, and he blinks, drawn suddenly from his thoughts. Your stare is unnerving, and he almost wonders for a moment whether you can read the shameful attraction in his eyes.

“Come eat.”

He hopes you don’t notice the relief in his sigh as he follows you to the table. The two of you eat in silence for the most part, Jason picking at the edges of the burger he no longer wants and you stealing his fries in between bites of your wrap.

He gets up to go pour you some water – he isn’t sure how much you drank tonight, but he’ll sleep better once you’ve finished a few glasses – when you suddenly break the silence.

“I kissed a guy tonight.” Jason pauses his rummaging through the cupboard for a glass, and hears you muse to yourself, “It wasn’t very good, but I kissed him anyway.”

“Did you.” He keeps his back to you, fingers closing around the glass gently before he takes a breath and turns around. Mechanically, he pours you a glass of water, watching the liquid fill the cup as you stand from the table to pad over to him. He can feel you at his back and when he turns to face you, he thrusts the glass at you.

“Drink.” You take the glass, and he watches you down it. When you’ve finished, he pours you another and nods at you in instruction.

“You okay?” you ask, once he’s satisfied. His gaze catches on the sheen of water on your bottom lip.

“’M fine,” he bites out, forcing himself to relax when you reach out to touch his shoulder, but he only ends up curling his fingers into fists, pressing them into the laminate counter behind him. Your hand flattens against his shoulder, palm resting just above his heart. He can hear it beat in his ears, picking up further when you move into his space. Your chest brushes against his, and he remains still, backed against the counter.

He could move you right now, he knows he could. You’re off-kilter, and he’s much larger than you. He’s picked you up before, for a laugh. It’d be easy to move out from under you. But there he remains, with you drawing closer.

“You’re drunk,” he breathes out against your lips when you’re a hair’s breadth away, moving to press forward. Your lips are parted slightly, and he tracks your tongue as it darts out to wet your lips, flicks his gaze back up your pupils, dark and blown out.

“Not really,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Not as much. I’m just tipsy.”

A breathless sound punches out of him, and Jason feels his lips twitch. Somehow, his hands have migrated to settle against your waist. He runs his finger over the edge of your top, feeling your warmth sear through it. It’s a flimsy thing, thin and slutty – meant for darkened corners and wandering hands. No wonder you’d garnered the amount of stares you had tonight. He flicks his gaze down, and his fingertips have skimmed underneath its hemming, pressing lightly into your sides.

Had the guy you’d kissed tonight held you like this? Jason, envious, swipes his thumbs over your skin and delights in the shiver that rolls down your spine. Your eyelids flutter, and in the dark your eyes are covered in a sheen of liquid moonlight, the universe bottled and staring back at him. He bites back a swear, feeling his jeans tighten.

“You should get to bed.” It takes an effort to force the words out, and they come out hoarse. You stare at him for a few moments longer, unknowing that with each passing second, the thread of his restraint is steadily fraying. Alcohol and drunken desire weigh your eyelids down, and he grits his teeth at your lingering touch before you step away, turning on your heel in the direction of your room.

A single, solitary light in the hallway remains to keep him company in the kitchen, rooted to spot as he hears a muffled sigh of frustration through the walls. Then, the sounds of a zipper, and the rustle of your bed sheets. He curses his keen sense of hearing then, blood turning molten when, a few moments later, you whimper.

He knows the sound. It’s burned into his memory, the day he’d come home early and inadvertently overheard you touching yourself. Hearing it again has him dizzy and unable to move, clutching the counter tops as you try, pitifully, to muffle your moans.

Several minutes pass by. You fall silent after that. Jason thinks he must’ve done something awful in another life, and that this must be his penance, to have you so close yet be unable to do anything about it. He remains in the living room until he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep. Only when all movement in the next room ceases does he move.

You wake up a little past ten in the morning, to your surprise. The light pours in through the open blinds and you squint, rolling over to bury your face in your pillow. Your entire body cracks and you groan at the sensation, stretching across the expanse of your mattress. There’s grit in your eyes from the mascara you’d put on last night, you can feel the coarse flecks of it clumping your lashes together, and your face feels gross.

When you get up, you don’t bother to pull on a pair of pants – you’d discarded your bottoms last night before falling into bed – but switch the top for something looser, a t-shirt of Jason’s you think must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry.

Your mind stutters over this name when you step into your shared bathroom, and you pause, hovering over the sink with your facial cleanser in hand.

Jason.

The memory of last night makes your face warm, recalling the sharp look he’d pinned you with, marbled features burning from the inside out as he’d let you draw closer and closer, eyes blazing. The ghost of his touch on your skin throbs, something like a live-wire threading itself alongside your every nerve.

You wash your face with careful movements, watching the makeup from last night swirl down the drain. Little else exists in your mind, save for the lingering desire of last night – and all the nights before that had led to it.

Where do you go from here?

You step into the shower, wondering if the two of you will pretend it never happened and continue as normal. You resolve to do as Jason does, nodding to yourself as you smooth your moisturiser into your skin. Judging by the sounds in the kitchen as you step out, you figure he has no intention of avoiding you. That, at least, reassures you and you walk out half an hour later with less hesitance.

“Morning,” you yawn and he looks over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing, bemused.

“How the fuck are you awake?”

“What do you mean?” You take a seat at the counter, propping yourself up on an elbow. There’s a slice of toast on a plate, covered in melting butter and unabashedly, you reach for it.

“Just that you knocked out at like, 6 – that’s mine, you thief,” Jason explains, looking over his shoulder before sputtering when he catches sight of his toast in your mouth. You mumble an apology around the bread and he grumbles, turning back to the stove. “Yeah, you sound real sorry. You couldn’t wait a few more minutes to make your own?”

You grin to yourself, dusting your hands off and leaning forward on the counter. “Aren’t you making me breakfast? I thought that’s what this was. You know, feeding your poor, hungover roommate who you love so much?”

He shoots a flat stare at you and you know you’re right – there’s twice the amount of hash-browns in the pan that he would make for himself, and there’s a carton of juice on the counter waiting to be poured, a plate waiting by the toaster near him.

“You keep that up and I’m giving your share to the neighbor’s cat,” he says mildly and you pout, settling back into your seat.

“Whatever,” you murmur. “Why are you awake, if you fell asleep after me?”

“Because the universe hates me.”

“Bruce called?” you guess and he shakes his head, plating your hash-browns and toast and turning to place it in front of you.

“Dick. Wanted to catch up. Why he chose at 8 in the morning is beyond me, but what the fuck ever,” he mutters, handing you a fork and taking a seat next to you. The proximity makes you shiver when his shoulder brushes against yours and you catch a whiff of his cologne. You cross your legs beneath the counter and hope he doesn’t notice, leaning in to take a bite of your food.

“You hungover?” he mutters and you shake your head. “You drank a lot last night, didn’t you?”

You hum in affirmation, letting him steal a bite of your toast. “Don’t think so. I’m a bit achy, but that’s it.”

He makes a noise in his throat. “Lucky you.”

The way he’d tugged you into his side last night flashes in your mind and you duck your head, warm all of a sudden. “Yeah.”

You stand up to put your plate away, and only when you’re at the sink and Jason makes a choked noise do you realise what you’ve wandered out in. You stiffen.

“The fuck are you wearing?”

You blink, not expecting him to be so incensed. You set the plate down in the sink and turn, looking down at the shirt you wear– the shirt you’re only wearing – and back up at him. It hangs off your frame, somewhat, but you can admit it’s a little on the shorter side as far as oversized shirts go, just skimming below the tops of your thighs. Still, it doesn’t explain why Jason’s expression has gone taut.

“A shirt?” you offer, tentatively.

“Are you serious?” You pause when he gets short with you, eyes narrowing.

“Yes?” You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry I forgot to put pants on. Why are you mad?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“Whatever.” He wrinkles his nose, and you can see his leg jumping as he taps his foot, agitated. “You should go put some clothes on.”

Your mouth tugs down into an unimpressed frown. “So you are mad about my clothes,” you say flatly. “You’ve never had a problem with what I wear around the house before.”

And you know that he knows it’s true. You’ve accidentally come out in your pyjamas when he’s had his friends over, not seeing the text he’d sent to give you a heads up and he’s only ever laughed it off. You know he’s seen you like this before, too. You’ve grown so used to Jason it no longer occurs to you to cover up – it’s only Jason. He’s used to it.

But then you look at the agitation on his face. You’re beginning to think that maybe he isn’t.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to say anything about it,” he says. “In the interest of keeping the peace.”

You shoot him a withering stare. He’s so full of shit. “So you’re not interested in keeping the peace anymore. Why are you saying something now?”

He lifts a shoulder, churlish. “Maybe I think it’s time. It’s not really appropriate, is it?”

If you weren’t growing madder by the second, you’d laugh in his face at the twitch of his eye as he says that, as though the words coming out of his mouth are pain to get out.

“I pay half the rent,” you tell him hotly. “There’s no one around and you know what, I don’t think you even care about what I wear.”

He looks startled when you say that and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. You continue.

“All I’m hearing right now is a lot of ‘maybe’ and I’m not buying it. You’re a shit liar, Jason. What the fuck is your problem? The truth this time.”

He blinks, momentarily stunned. Anger like the tide, it washes away to make room for the truth before rushing back in. He stands up, breakfast abandoned, and your heart thrums in anticipation as the chair screeches backwards.

“My problem is you,” he says finally, and your mouth drops open.

“Me?” you squawk, indignant and he nods.

“Yeah, you.”

“What did I do?”

You wrack your brain, trying to come up with a reason he might be picking a fight with you. You hadn’t forgotten to take your clothes from the bathroom after you’d showered in a while, you’d been pretty good about replacing the liner in the bins when you noticed it was full – had you left your dishes in the sink yesterday before you’d gone out? Still, it didn’t warrant this level of a fight. This was beyond petty roommate squabbles – neither of you hesitated to get snippy about pulling your weight, and you forgave each other just as fast, too.

Jason was genuinely pissed off with you. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Is this some sort of game to you?” he asks you, instead of elaborating and you’re left more confused.

“I’m not playing any games with you – what are you talking about?” you demand, exasperatedly and he rounds the counter, stepping close to you. Absently, you’re reminded of last night. (The beat of his heart under your fingers, angry thrumming that echoed the rush of your own in your ears.)

Blue-green eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. “You know how many guys I nearly got into it with last night because I had to come get your drunk ass? The entire time, you’re just smiling–I don’t think you even knew where you were at that point.”

“I knew where I was!” you argue but he continues.

“Then I finally get you home and you decide that wasn’t enough, you have to tell me you kissed some guy, try to put the moves on me, and then pretend like nothing’s happened this morning which – whatever, fine, but then you walk around in this? And I’m not supposed to think you’re playing games?”

You stare at him, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“You are so stupid,” you breathe out. “What are you, jealous?”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, and you freeze. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“What?” you mutter, barely audible.

He crowds you into the sink, until you can feel the edge of it pressed against your back. “You flirt with me, and I’m not supposed to do anything about it, because we live together. I have to watch you walk out of the house when you go out in your little outfits, and I’m not supposed to do anything about that either.”

He leans down and you’re nose to nose. “You accidentally send me something meant for someone else, and I’m not supposed to do anything about that, except all I can think about is how it’s meant for not me. Isn’t that a little unfair? How am I supposed to just move on from that? But I did. I made peace with the fact that you’re here, that you’re close enough for me to touch but I’m not supposed to.”

You go hot when you remember that, remembering the horror when in the heat of the moment you’d accidentally sent a photo meant for a hookup to Jason’s contact instead. It did little to comfort you when in response to your harried, apologetic explanation, Jason had simply sent you:

don’t worry i deleted it seriously it’s fine

He hadn’t acted in any way the next day to suggest that you’d ruined things or made it awkward, but you’d been mortified. The way he looks down at you now, you think he must be better at hiding it than you thought. Barely concealed lust darkens his eyes, pupils blown wide. It coaxes your own want out of you, your hands beginning to shake as you rest them on the counter behind you. Water flecks your palms but you’re uncaring, staring back at your roommate.

Jason stares down at you, waiting.

Well. You had resigned to doing as he did.

You tilt your head, scrutinising him with narrowed eyes. The edges of your mouth twitch in an effort to stifle the urge to smirk.

“Maybe you should do something about that,” you challenge, leaning in until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. From here, you can count every eyelash that frames his eyes, can notice the scar just beneath his eyebrow, barely a quarter of an inch, a nick he must’ve gotten in his childhood. You add in a steady, derisive tone, tamping down the excitement that’s already begun to itch underneath your skin in anticipation, “instead of being quiet about it, like a coward. At least those guys had the nerve to try.”

His eyes flash and the breath he lets out is the only warning you get before you’re being kissed to within an inch of your life.

Your first thought is: why the fuck hadn’t you egged him on sooner?

Jason kisses like he might die if he doesn’t get to. You go boneless under the grip of his hands when they settle around your waist, tugging you into him urgently until your chest is pressed tight against his. You scramble for purchase, reaching to tug at his hair while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip and neither of you expect the breathless groan he lets out, but it goes straight to your gut, desire pooling low and driving you to tug again. Your noses bump and he lets out a wrecked laugh into your mouth.

“You’re seriously ruining it,” you mutter between kisses and he pulls away, much to your displeasure. You’re madder still at the way you chase his mouth, leaning in before blinking up at him.

“Yeah, what would you rather I do?”

Insufferable, even after having his tongue in your mouth. You tug his collar and pull him back down. He meets your height with a self satisfied smirk, laughter in his eyes. You’re not so amused.

“I’d rather,” you tell him, “you not laugh in my face while making out with me. It’s really making me reconsider letting you take this off me. I’m not wearing anything under this, you know.”

You want to laugh at how quickly his smirk drops at that but you’re too busy slipping out from the tight space, darting to the mouth of the hallway where you pause grin at him teasingly, tilting your head questioningly. Well? Are you coming or not?

He lunges forward and you squeal, taking off to your room with him hot on your heels. You’re just shy of your door when you’re flung over his shoulder, the world abruptly tipping as he grabs you. He laughs, victorious, and then a moment later he’s inside, you’re being thrown onto your bed. He stands at the foot of your bed for a moment, just staring and you feel a prickle of nervousness roll over your skin, ensnared in his gaze and the anticipation only made worse by the waiting.

And then he’s moving, a knee pressing into the bed as he climbs on, but you stop him, a hand flying to his shoulder. He goes still under your touch.

“Wait, can you–” you pause, feeling your face grow warm. “Can you close the blinds? I don’t want the neighbours to get a free show or something.”

He blinks, eyelashes fluttering before he snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, sure.” He looks back at you as he pulls them firmly shut, throwing the room sharply into dimness but not before you catch sight of that teasing grin. “And here I was thinking you were so bold.”

“Not that bold,” you mutter, before you grin. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not with me,” he mutters, climbing back onto the bed. He doesn’t waste any time in putting his mouth to your neck, teeth barely grazing against the skin. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering under the touch. Jealousy colours his words when he says, “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like that.”

“N-no?” you barely manage to eke out, fingers digging into your sheets. You don’t want to admit his tone sends a thrill down your spine. You’re lucky he’s preoccupied, arching into his touch when his fingers find your sides again, rucking your shirt up your thighs.

“No,” he says firmly, before kissing you again.

When he pulls away you’re a little dizzy, breaths coming out heavy. It takes you a moment to realise your shirt lays over your stomach now, pushed up – showing off the underwear you’d lied about not wearing. He raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed and you shrug, unrepentant. A finger skims over the band on your hip, hooking underneath it to snap it against your skin. It makes you gasp, and his lips twitch.

“Not wearing anything under this, huh,” he mocks.

“How else was I gonna get you to take it off faster?” you provide by way of explanation, grinning and he shakes his head, looking quite as though he doesn’t know what to do with you. When he pauses, staring, you roll your eyes, pushing up to pull your shirt off. His eyes widen as you settle back into your pillows, and you tell him archly, “There. Now you still get to take off only one thing.”

You watch him swallow you with his gaze, blue-green lingering on every inch of skin bared to him, breathing out heavily. Knelt between your legs, his hands remain hovering by your hips and you push them up, shifting until you brush against him. Impatience makes you petulant, slinging a leg over his hip and reaching out to coax his hand to fucking touch you.

“Do you want to do this?” you ask, when he only brushes a hand over your hip once more, and he frowns.

“Why’re you asking me that? Do you want to stop?”

“No!” you protest. “It’s just – you’ve got me naked and you’re not doing anything about it. It kind of feels like you don’t want to.”

He grins then, incredulously. “God. You’re so whiny. Is this how you are with all your hookups?”

You scowl at him. “You really wanna talk about my hookups? Now?”

His nose wrinkles in disdain and he leans in. “No. I’m gonna make you forget about them, though.”

You don’t know what it is about Jason that draws it out of you – you speak without thinking, dryly telling him, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

He shuts you up with a glare and lowers himself down, settling on his stomach between your legs. You swallow nervously when his breath skims over the seat of your underwear, the lace already damp. Jason grins to himself when he nudges against the crease of your thigh with his nose and you tremble, biting down a gasp when his fingers hook into the lace and instead of pulling them off entirely, he only tugs them to the side.

He sighs, eyes flicking up to where you stare at him. “So fucking pretty.” He reaches a hand up to press to your mouth and you blink, letting your roommate part your lips with his fingers, pressing them flat against your tongue. It makes your head spin, and you drool over his fingers, wrapping your lips around them and sucking. You delight in the way he watches you do it and emboldened, you reach a shaking hand to encircle his wrist, keeping it in place.

Eventually he pulls himself out of your mouth, but not without shifting against the mattress, and you give him a smile, spit smearing down your chin. He curses under his breath, and you grin when you hear the words, “Fucking brat.”

Thoroughly soaked, he takes his fingers to your cunt and your eyes roll back when he spits onto your clit before attaching his mouth to you. Very quickly, Jason makes a mess of you under his fingers and tongue, pressing inside with ease and curling his fingers to hit the spot you can never quite reach yourself. You see stars, squealing when he bands his free arm over your stomach, pressing down and only intensifying the scale of your pleasure.

Sinking into the mattress, you lose sense of all else but the slick sounds of your sex and Jason’s ministrations, eyes fluttering closed as you whimper. He steadily increases his pace and you’re curling your fingers into the sheets, feeling the knot in your stomach twist and tighten. One twist of his fingers, the tug of his mouth on you, and you’re coming apart with a gasp of his name, hips straining upwards against his arm to ride out your high.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, stunned and staring at the ceiling and he laughs, laving your cunt with another look before he pulls away, delight on his face at the whimper you let out.

“You still wanna talk shit?” he questions, pushing himself up to come into your line of vision. You blink blearily at him.

“Give me a minute. Then, maybe,” you mumble and he snickers.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out now. All that attitude, and you didn’t even last ten minutes.”

You frown at him, sitting up and he falls back on his haunches to give you room. “I’m not tapping out, you asshole. When did I say that?”

He holds up his hands. “My bad, sweetheart. Must’ve misread that look on your face.”

“You’re insufferable,” is all you can say back to him, rolling your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, before a shit-eating grin curves his mouth upwards. “But you want to fuck me anyway.”

God help you, you really do.

You look down at him instead, and tug on the hem of his t-shirt. “Take this off.”

“Bossy,” he intones playfully, but pulls it off anyway, revealing the torso you’re guilty of having admired on several occasions, all powerful muscle and tanned skin. A thick pattern of hair trails down from his belly button into where his pyjama pants hang low on his hips, and you think maybe you’ve come on the spot again just at the sight of it, pressing your legs tight together.

He snorts above you, but says nothing, letting you push yourself up onto your knees, pressing a hand to his chest. He’s warm under you and just like last night, the beat of his heart is fast. You do what you’d longed to last night, sliding your hand up from his chest to his neck, tugging him down to press your lips against his. He inhales sharply through his nose, as if surprised, and you smile against his lips. You remain like that for a few moments, mouths slanted against each other and panting.

When you pull away, it’s with a fire burning in your gut, flames high and setting your skin alight.

“Those too,” you breathe out, nodding to his pants and not a moment wasted, they join your shirt on the floor. The both of you left in your underwear, you pout at him, brushing a hand over where he strains against the confines of it.

“I want you in me,” you tell him and he swears, screwing his eyes shut. You lower yourself back down, kneeling, to mouth over his hipbone. Tilting your chin up, you watch him shudder when your fingers ghost over the band of his underwear. “Can I?”

“Fuck. Yeah – yeah you can,” he grits out and you grin, pulling them down greedily. You move backwards as he kicks them off, and your mouth dries when you take in the size of him.

He’s bigger than any of your hookups, and your lust is dashed by the worry that suddenly overtakes you.

“Jason,” you say nervously and he hums. “I don’t think that’s going to fit.”

You try to appreciate that he attempts to muffle his laugh but immediately you’re looking back up at him, indignant. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m being serious.”

“Sweetheart, it’ll fit,” he reassures, smoothing a hand over your cheek, uncharacteristically tender. You find yourself leaning into it, a silent you promise? in your eyes. You believe him, though, you realise. “C’mon, let me take that off you.”

You sink back down into the sheets, pushing up your hips as he finally pulls off your underwear. And even though he’d been nose deep between your lips only a few minutes ago, he lets out a low breath at the sight of you, fully bared to him, a curse that skitters over your skin, stomach tightening as he shuffles closer.

He tightens a fist over his cock, smearing his pre over it as he gives it a few strokes before settling in the cradle of your hips. You shiver when he rests himself against you, sliding his cock over your cunt. Your mess clings to him, and the both of you groan when the tip of him catches against you, taking a sharp breath when he bumps against your clit.

“Don’t tease,” you murmur, reaching out to tug him down. He meets your mouth in a messy kiss, supporting himself on an elbow beside you, his free hand pushing your leg apart before guiding himself to your entrance.

You tense at the intrusion before he mutters at you to fucking breathe, baby. Inch by inch, with a thumb guiding tight circles over your clit, Jason pushes inside. The stretch of him is one you’ve not ever experienced, and you feel winded when he bottoms out, fully seating himself within you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. He grins, leaning down to kiss your jaw.

“Told you it’d fit,” he muses smugly, and you let out a dazed breath, pinching his arm. “Ow!”

“Don’t be a dick with your dick in me,” you mutter crossly and he lets out a laugh.

“Sorry. You okay?”

You blink a few times, wiggling your hips – Jason lets out a hiss – before nodding. His fingers haven’t stopped on your clit and slowly, the stretch has begun to feel a little pleasurable. When he pulls out a little before thrusting, you sigh, bringing your arms up to loop around his neck.

“Feels good?” he asks and you hum. Pleased, he begins to move.

Your senses dissolve quickly. The room slips into a cacophony of moans, the air thickening with urgency with every second that passes. Jason had kissed you like it was life or death; it had only been a precursor. Every nerve in your body feels like a live-wire, thrumming with electricity and so utterly sensitive to his every thrust, and touch, and kiss. His hands are bruising on your waist, your hips, your thigh, when he lifts your leg to sling it around his hip. His mouth seeks yours, all teeth and tongue, exchanging panted breaths and moans, mumbled swears spilling from his lips like a broken dam –

So fucking perfect.

Been waiting so – fuck, so long.

So good for me.

Yeah, just like that.

You can’t keep up with it, sinking your head back into the pillows beneath you. He takes advantage to lave his tongue against the exposed skin there, too, teeth working at you until you’re sure he’s left a mark to accompany the others.

Time passes thickly, your sense of it obscured by the man over you. He fucks you right through your first – technically second – orgasm, and works you up all over again, coaxing you through the next one with breathy laughs and a mean smile when you shake your head, tears budding at the corners of your eyes. You fall apart though, you couldn’t not, with the way he touches you as he angles his hips. Absently, you think, if your sheets weren’t already ruined from your makeup last night, they will be now.

“Thought you couldn’t,” he goads you, rolling the both of you over so you’re slumped on his chest and pushing back in you. You curl your nails into his chest and he gasps, “–Fuck!”

Jason doesn’t seem to mind that he’s worn you out too much to do anything beyond lay on his chest. He holds you easily, thrusting upwards. The change in position makes you cry out, tightening around him once more.

He lets out a startled laugh. “You have one more in you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head once more and he pouts, a hand taking your chin and directing your gaze to him. He’s pouting mockingly at you. “No? Are you sure?”

“You’re–” you stumble out, face screwing up under the weight of your building orgasm, “such a bastard.”

He just grins at you, but it’s strained, too, starting to slip around the edges. He tips his throat back, and you can feel his thrusts beginning to stutter. You take the chance to lean down and latch your mouth to his neck, tired hips rolling against his as you return his favour. His hands tighten around your hips and he groans. “Fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come, where do you want me?”

And because he’s stolen away with him your ability to reason, you whine out needily, “Inside. Need you, fuck, please, I need it inside.”

He swears loudly, hips bucking frantically. You keen as you feel your fourth orgasm of the morning roll over you, and not a moment later Jason follows suit. You feel the warmth of it slide down your thigh and his grip around you tightens as he rides out his high, face buried in your hair. His breathing is ragged, and you close your eyes for a moment against his neck, resting. The room falls silent for several moments, only your breathing to be heard as it evens out.

“Gonna have to get you the pill,” Jason mumbles into your neck and you hum. “Fuck, I should’ve gone to the store or something.”

You hug him a little tighter, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”

He laughs wearily, but his arms tighten around you briefly, too. “Not gonna be so perfect if I accidentally knock you up, baby. ‘M smarter about this, usually.”

You grumble, biting his neck gently. “I don’t wanna talk about your hookups with your dick still in me.”

“Should I pull out, so we can discuss them?” he offers, laughing when you try to pinch him.

“You’re so not funny,” you tell him, and he scrunches his nose playfully.

“Yeah, but you need me so bad,” he repeats, leaning in to steal a kiss before you can snap at him. It doesn’t save him; once you recover, you’re reaching to squish his face between your palms.

“You’re the biggest dweeb on the planet, I really hope you know that,” you tell him matter-of-fact-ly. To your annoyance, he doesn’t seem too chastised, beaming up at you when you let him go. You slump back down onto his chest, sighing loudly. “I’m so tired. How do you have that much energy? You slept less than me.”

He shrugs underneath you, a hand settling on your back and trailing up and down. The movement is soothing, and you find your eyelids growing heavier. “Think I’m kind of used to running on no sleep.”

“Freak,” you mumble, and he snickers. “You know, I really wasn’t teasing you when I came out.”

“Hm?”

“No pants. Just forgot,” you slur.

“Go to sleep,” is all he says, but you’re sure you hear a muffled laugh before sleep overtakes you.

You don’t know what you expect to happen from sleeping with Jason. When you wake up, you find that he’d dozed off around the same time as you, but not before cleaning you up and pulling your blanket over the both of you. It makes something in your heart twinge, and you have to avert your eyes when he wakes up not longer after you do. The both of you order an early dinner, having slept through most of the morning and afternoon – “Work tomorrow, too,” Jason had grumbled when you drew the blinds open to a late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky.

“Classes tomorrow,” you pout, as you strip the sheets in your bed. “And I slept through the whole day.”

“Your fault for not sleeping in this morning,” Jason mutters, still in your bed with his face pressed unhelpfully into a pillow. You swat his leg and when he lifts it to shoot you a beleaguered scowl, you gesture to the pillow. He grumbles, sitting up and taking off the pillowcase, throwing it at you. It unfolds halfway through and the both of you stare as it sadly flutters on top of the duvet between you.

“Sad,” you tell him. When the bed’s been stripped, you make him take it down to the laundry – “You have better luck with the machines, they’re always full when I go.”

“That’s such bullshit,” he grumbles, but he takes the basket anyway and heads downstairs to the laundry unit in your apartment building. He’s back five minutes later and unwilling to admit that you’d been right, mumbling a whatever when you let him in because he’d forgotten his keys.

“You wanna watch something tonight?” you ask him as he’s wrangling a fitted sheet over your mattress. The pillowcases and duvet cover replaced, you sit on a chair waiting for your sheet to be changed.

Jason mumbles out a, “Yeah, sure.” and you nod decisively.

Neither of you end up being able to choose a movie. The both of you take turns showering and by the time the clothes have been washed and the food comes, you can’t think of anything you want to watch. You resign to put on a few episodes of your show and call it a night. Though, you worry over your noodles – are you meant to sleep in his bed tonight? Is he going to sleep in yours?

Jason saves you the awkwardness by standing up at the end of your Gilmore Girls episode and heading to his bedroom. There’s no difference in his departure either. He doesn’t kiss you, or hug you or do anything out of the ordinary – he knocks the side of your head with his knuckle and heads off, calling over his shoulder, “Night.”

You’re left there to ponder over it.

You’ve made a disastrous mistake by sleeping with Jason.

You decide this upon waking the next morning and shuffling out into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat before your classes and finding a box of pastries waiting on the counter. You hadn’t expected to have much for breakfast – you were due to go grocery shopping with Jason soon, the fridge growing ever emptier by the day. The sight of it makes you stop short, and you feel that twinge in your heart again, only it’s immediately followed by horror – because you know what it is.

You like him.

You have no time to contemplate this bitter pill, forced to swallow it alongside a few bites of the unforgivably good pastries before getting ready to leave the house – you curse that he’d chosen your favourites, too. You like your roommate. The world goes on. You sit on the bus feeling shell-shocked, sure it must show on your face that you’ve come to terms with a life-changing revelation.

How long have you felt this way, how long have these feelings been blooming inside you, you wonder – feelings that go beyond the basic attraction you’re sure Jason is used to dealing with in his every day life. This isn’t lust, you realise miserably. That would be much too easy.

You like him. You want to strangle him most days, but you like Jason. You like his company, like his stupid sense of humour and despite your better judgement, like his attention. You like that he nags you about pulling your weight, like that he doesn’t care when you mouth off to him, like that he likes you with no pretenses.

Fuck.

There is nothing to suggest in Jason’s behaviour that what’s happened between the both of you actually happened. You feel like a bit of a creep for watching him the way you do, sneaking glances at him over the counter when it’s his turn to make dinner and reading into every syllable of every word he says to you – it begins to feel like you’ve slowly started to go mad. There’s no sign of anything.

Stephanie looks at you oddly when a few days later you both meet up with your mutual friends, pushing a few tables together and ordering nearly everything off the menu – it’s on her, tonight, thanks to the promotion you’re all getting together to celebrate. She drags you into the bathroom before your food arrives and you find yourself spilling the details to her, unable to keep it a secret any longer and almost regretting it when her face screws up into disgust.

“I mean, I knew it was bound to happen but gross,” she squeals, pretending to gag and you glare at her.

“What do you mean? You knew?”

She tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and leans against the bathroom counter, giving you a pointed look. “Are you serious? You had to have known. It was so obvious.”

What you suspect to be an incoming rant is interrupted by the swing of the bathroom door and the call of your names – “The guys told me to come get you before everything’s gone.”

The apparent inevitability of your getting together with your roommate is filed away for later as you exit the bathroom. No sooner than you approach the table do you notice your seat has been claimed, and you look over at Steph when the culprit – a friend she’d brought– smiles at you and apologises, gesturing between her and Jason.

“Do you mind switching with me?” she asks and you blink at her. She tilts her head and you can’t help but notice the shine of her hair, water-like in its movements as it sways. Next to her, Jason eyes you curiously and you smile tightly.

Logic reasons that you have no reason to say no. Jealousy sinks your fingernails into your palm behind your back as you shove your hands into your back pockets.

“Sure,” you tell her, and shove yourself into the seat next to Steph, waving a hand at Roy when he returns from the pool table across the bar and complains about you stealing his seat.

“I don’t see your name on it,” you tell him archly and turn firmly back to the conversation at hand – something about a coworker and someone’s boss that you’re guilty of not paying any attention to. Try as you might, you can’t focus on anything but the laughs from across the table, Steph’s friend leaning in and joking around with Jason.

Stephanie looks over at one point and pinches you under the table, ignoring your hiss to lean in and whisper, “What’s wrong with you?”

You pinch her back, but she simply raises her eyebrows, waiting. You glance over at your roommate, catching his eye before you mutter into her ear – and really, you’re thankful for the ruckus that your table and the dinner crowd provides, otherwise you’d never hear the end of it for ‘keeping secrets’–

“Why’d you invite her?”

She looks back and forth between the two before she raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re seriously pissy because you’re jealous? If you wanted to sit next to him, you should’ve just said.”

You frown at her. “Why would I do that? We haven’t even talked about it, I can’t just tell her to fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Do you want him to be?” she asks, reaching for the untouched slice of pizza on your plate.

You sneak a look at Jason, who’s bringing a glass of beer to his mouth, smiling over the rim at not you. The answer is too humiliating to say out loud.

Envy clings to you long after everyone parts ways, waiting on the sidewalk and staring down hard at a piece of gum that’s lodged itself between the cracks in the pavement while Jason says goodbye. You don’t like how thankful you are that neither of them exchange numbers – or the possibility that it will come later.

The routine after a night out is usually like this – Jason tends to linger close by as you wash your face and get changed, sitting over the ledge of the closed toilet lid while you run through the events of the night. Normally, you don’t mind it so much. You’ve even found yourself mirroring him when it’s his turn to come home after a night out, standing outside his bedroom door while he changes and talking through the wall. You like the company, and the mutual dissection of your shared gatherings. It feels domestic.

Tonight, you close the bathroom door on him once you both get home and you can tell from the surprised sputter that he hadn’t been expecting it. But the drive home has given your jealousy time to fester, your blood running hot at the thought of all the shared glances and attention paid to someone that wasn’t you. It’s irrational, and mean, and completely crazy, but you find yourself angry with him for letting it happen and angrier still at yourself for feeling this way.

Jason, unaware that he’s back on your shit list, knocks on the door, demanding to be let in. You liken him to a cat, yowling at your doorstep. There’s a shit eating grin on his face when you open the door that drops the moment he catches sight of the look on your face.

“What.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice lilting in uncertainty and you huff.

“No, I just want to go to bed. I’m tired.” Lying through your teeth, you look away from where he’s trying to meet your eyes.

“Did something happen tonight?”

You hate the way his voice turns a little soft, truly, earnestly worried. His hands come up, hovering by your sides as if to turn you over and make sure you haven’t been hurt. It should make you melt, but all it does it make you madder.

“Nothing happened, don’t worry about it,” you tell him curtly, and his brow furrows for a moment, thoughtful.

“Is this about Steph’s friend?” he says and your face grows hotter when he says her name.

“No,” you say baldly, turning around and reaching for your cleanser. You work it between your palms with more force than necessary and the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “But you know what? I hate her. You shouldn’t talk to her.”

There’s a silence before he replies, and you hate the way he’s somehow found amusement in all of this. Amused, always amused when it comes to you. You wonder if he ever takes anything you say seriously. “You can’t tell me who I can talk to.”

You come up from the sink, water dripping from your lashes and chin and he pauses, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Fine, whatever. Go talk to little miss–” Your jaw closes with a clack and you purse your lips, reaching for your face towel. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He stops you from reaching for the next product in your long routine, a hand circling around your wrist and tugging you a little closer. When you refuse to look up, his other hand tilts your chin up, and you hate him once more for ducking his head to meet your eyes.

“You mad ‘cos I didn’t sit next to you?” he asks, quiet and you scoff, pushing him away.

“No, have you lost your mind? Why would you think that?”

He doesn’t let you go very far, hands settling on your hips and holding you in place. You lift your chin stubbornly, glaring at the cracks in the tile over his shoulder. At the edges of your vision, Jason shuffles closer, bending his head to press his nose into your cheek.

“You know you can’t lie to me, right?” he murmurs, affection colouring his words. Then, voice dipping, he says softly, “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you protest weakly but his resounding laugh skitters over the line of your neck and you sag against the counter.

“Yeah you are,” he says brightly, and you’re surprised when his lips press chastely into the swell of your cheek. “It’s okay.”

The frustration that’s been simmering in your veins all night boils over when he tilts his head to kiss your jaw. You reach for Jason, guiding his mouth to yours.

He kisses you sweetly tonight, and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut as his lips slide against yours, knuckles bumping against your jaw. There’s this feeling in your chest, champagne fizz-like, a cacophony of bursts, ever rising and rendering you giddy in his arms. It lasts only for a second before you’re pressing further into him, fingers tangling into the thick of his hair and tugging him closer, harried.

The sound of surprise he lets out is muffled, settling against your tongue and swallowed greedily while you press your hips into his. Jason quickly sets you against the edge of the counter, half-hard in his jeans where he stands between your parted legs. Desperation and anger line your movements, pressing closer, closer, impossibly closer to him until every inch of you is near flush against him, separated only by layers of clothing. There’s an urgency to your actions, mapping out his mouth and squeezing your legs around his hips in a bid to relieve the growing pressure.

He pants against your mouth, the hands at your waist kneading your skin through the fabric of your top, fisting it tight and rocking you closer against him.

“Want you,” you demand, breathy and shameless and he groans, eyes screwing shut before he’s nodding fervently, moving away slightly to help you tug your pants off until you’re left only in your underwear. Your hands reach for his belt as his slide down your waistband, spit-slicked fingers sliding against you with ease. You keen under his touch, fingers closing around his length and pulling him out.

You lean over, spitting onto his cock and the curse he bites out echoes in the bathroom. He’s warm in your hand and you delight in the moan he lets out when you pass your fist over his length, echoing it not a moment later when he circles your clit.

Half-dressed and pawing at each other, you rock against his fingers with one hand gripping his shoulder for dear life and the other passing broad, firm strokes over his cock. His hips buck into your fist and you catch his laboured breaths in a messy kiss once more, feeling pleasure coil tighter and tighter in your stomach. A well timed twist of his fingers draws a high-pitched gasp out of you.

“I’m–” you cry and he nods, face twisting.

“Me too.”

Only a few more strokes and the two of you cry out in unison, moans muffled in each other’s mouths as you come. Jason spills over your wrist, his own slowing to a stop beneath the band of your underwear as you let out a ragged breath, pressing your sweaty forehead to his.

His eyelashes flutter against your cheek and you let out a breath through your nose at the tickling sensation. Blue-green eyes meet yours, so close you think you can count the stars in his pupils, and Jason grins, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Moments pass as he slowly dots kisses to your face, trailing over the corners of your mouth to your jaw and chin, sweet once more. You sigh, letting your eyes shut under his touch and leaning into press of his mouth, your limbs loosening under every baby-soft touch until you’re pliant in his arms.

“C’mon,” he tells you quietly, nosing at your jaw. “We gotta clean up.”

You tip your head tiredly, letting him maneuver you around to wash your hands in the sink while he takes care of himself. By the time he comes up behind you again, you’re watching the soap bubbles wash away down the drain.

“You still mad at me?” he mutters into your temple, and you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror. His arm hangs loosely around your shoulder, drawing you back into his chest. He’s shucked his jeans, left in only his t-shirt and underwear. You can feel the press of his skin against the back of your bare legs, the heat of him through his t-shirt.

You shrug, feeling oddly vulnerable. His lips seem to turn down for the slightest moment before he’s turning you to face him, a hand coming to rest against your jaw.

“Tell me,” he asks. The bite of tiramisu he’d had at dinner still lingers on your tongue and you can smell the lingering notes of his cologne. You press up on your toes to kiss him once more, a gentle brush of lips that carries with it the weight of your entire heart before you’re pulling away.

“Don’t talk to her,” you say quietly, too cowardly to say what you really feel. He regards you with a stare that feels too scrutinising for your liking, before he finally nods.

“Okay.” His thumbs sweeps across your cheek. “I won’t.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze as you nod. “Okay. Good.”

You fear you might have revealed more of yourself than you’d intended when, following the events of that night, Jason softens a little. Only infinitesimally, but you notice it – the way he begins to seek you out a little more, the ease with which he settles by your side in the kitchen when it’s your turn to make dinner, taking advantage of the proximity to steal bites of the food from the pan over your shoulder. Still, amongst the feelings that that particular thought evokes, you don’t find regret.

You dare to think that maybe, even, it was for the better when, twenty minutes into a gathering for one of your friend’s birthdays, Jason drags you out to the car under the pretense of going on an ice run and you find yourself making out with him at a red light, his thigh squeezing at the flesh of your thigh as he whispers filthy promises into your mouth. When you return, it’s with a bruise sucked into the hollow of your throat, hidden in the shadowed collar of your hoodie and kiss swollen lips that you can only hope goes unnoticed.

It gives you something of a thrill, kissing in darkened corners and returning to your friends with the taste of each other on your tongue, a secret shared only between you and Jason. You find yourself biting back grins when he meets your eye from across a room, tamping down the excitement of following him into the bathroom and letting him coax you into just one more kiss.

At home, the air is charged with an undercurrent of electricity, thick with the weight of all that has, and could happen. Your movie nights hang on a razor’s edge, the threat of devolving into something else looming between you at all times. Tonight, you give in, sinking to your knees twenty minutes into the movie and taking Jason’s length in your mouth.

He sinks his head back into the couch as you suck his cock, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You hum around him, half lidded eyes gazing up at him.

“Fuck...”

His voice is hoarse, a husky groan spilling from reddened lips, and he runs his other hand through his already messy hair, tousled from where you’d run your fingers through it only moments ago.

“Just like that,” he moans, head tipping back down to look at you, blue-green eyes swallowed by the dark of his pupils. “So fucking good, baby.”

You drag a fist up the end of his length, spit and pre-cum smearing over your fingers. It’s messy, quickened movements and wrecked sighs, Jason’s hips taut as he tries not to buck into your mouth. His grasp on his control slips a little when you dig your fingernails into the skin of his hip, nails scratching over where you know him to be sensitive. Startled, he lifts off the couch, hitting the back of your throat and drawing tears to your eyes.

“Shit,” he says, a half moan as he runs a hand down your face. “Sorry, you okay?”

You blink up at him, tears sticking your lashes together, and hum. The concern in his expression bleeds into realisation and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a smirk.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, dropping back into the couch cushions. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You pull off him to give him a smile, letting out a little laugh. “Yeah? Feels good?”

The hand on your face presses into your cheeks in warning when he lifts his head to glare at you tiredly, and you snicker once more before wrapping your lips around him.

He comes soon afterwards, pulling out of your mouth and making a mess on your face, spend smearing over your lips and chin. You squeeze your eyes shut as he finishes, the sound of his ragged breathing and the salt on your lips coaxing out your own need, wetness quickly growing between your legs. You think it must be obvious on your face. Jason, after carefully wiping your face, pulls you onto his lap, settling a muscled thigh between your legs and gazing up at you with blazing eyes as if to say, well? Your turn now.

The movie remains long forgotten.

“You okay?”

You purse your lips, fiddling with the straw in your drink. The cafe you’ve met at for lunch is one of your favourites, but you find it hard to focus on your food when you keep meeting someone’s eyes over Jason’s shoulder. The man grins at you when you look back, and your frown deepens.

Sat in front of you, Jason taps your foot under the table. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“There’s some guy behind you that keeps looking over here.”

His brows furrow and he leans in over the small table. “You don’t know him?”

You shake your head. “He doesn’t look familiar.”

He considers your answer and nods, before rising from the table. Startled, your hand flies out to clutch his sleeve, already imagining the blood on his knuckles. “What are you doing? Sit down!”

He looks at you like you’re crazy, and you feel your face grow hot. “Would you chill? I was going to tell you to switch seats with me.”

Your rehearsal of the explanation you’re going to have to give to his older brother that you were partially the reason Jason was in a police station comes to a screeching halt. “Oh.”

Flustered, you awkwardly slide out of your seat and into his. Jason passes your things over as he settles into your previous seat comfortably, and you watch his eyes scan over your shoulder, lingering only once, briefly, on something before he’s meeting your gaze with a small grin. His face doesn’t betray his annoyance, features set in a pleasant, neutral expression – except for the minute tightening of the skin around his eyes.

You squirm in your seat, still feeling the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of your head. “Is he still looking?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, shaking his head before, as casually as he would if he were brushing a leaf out of your hair, he extends a hand to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss over the table. Your sound of surprise is lost to his mouth, and Jason lets out a quiet laugh against your lips. When he pulls away, he lingers for a moment, a hair’s breadth away and bright eyed. “If he was still staring, he won’t be anymore.”

“Oh. Okay,” you murmur, dazed, settling back into the metal of your chair. The feel of his lips on yours lingers for the rest of lunch, and long after you part ways, you for your next class and Jason to work.

“See you at home,” you tell him quietly, as the crossing light turns green at the corner where you’re due to part. He grins down at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You half-heartedly bat his hand away, and he laughs, dropping it back to his side. You have the urge then, looking up at him, to hug him, but the seconds are counting down and bravery evades you, still.

“Yeah. See you.”

You wait there at the intersection, long after he’s crossed the street and disappeared around another corner. You aren’t quite sure what you’re waiting for. You aren’t sure how to explain your resulting tardiness to your teacher, either.

How do you explain the twist of your heart when you think of tourmaline eyes, the phantom brush of tender fingers over your cheek? You can only smile apologetically and hurry to your seat, face warming in both embarrassment and longing.

Jason lingers even when he isn’t there, the ghost of him stood in the doorway of your mind, a constant companion to your thoughts. You’d often thought of love as hues of rose, but you feel as though your vision has been wrapped in a sea-glass film, the world around you now cast in glittering jewel tones.

He draws out a different part of you now, you find. Still teasing, he’s the same Jason he’s ever been. And yet...

There’s a softness to your interactions that you wonder if you only see because you want it to be there. Silence between you now settles with a weight behind it, but it feels like the comfort of a down blanket, soft, and grounding, it feels like contentment. There’s a quality to his voice, to the way his mouth forms your name, something wrapped around every letter that makes you burn, hope flickering dangerously in your heart. You dare to let yourself wonder in the darkness of your room, hidden under the blanket – could he?

Hope, dangerous hope. It does away with any sense you have left. Hope turns you sweeter, displays your love-sickness for all to see across your face, eyes always searching for his in a room, smiles turned shyer. You don’t know who you’ve become, gentle and yearning, the cutting remarks you reserve for him now dulled. Hope pulls the words from your lips when you’re watching Jason make to rise from your bed, moonlight spilling across the floor of your bed through a crack in the blinds.

“Do you -” you falter, and he looks back.

“What?”

Your fingers twist in the bed sheets, nervous and you feel a little sick as you say, “Do you want to just sleep here, tonight?”

And you think you’re going to die, then, when he says nothing for a very long moment. It stretches out into the vast nothingness, and you feel shame heat your face, the weight of what you’ve just asked pressing down on your chest. You wish it would be quicker about finishing you off, you wish you could turn back time, you wish –

“Are you -” he falters. “Really?”

It isn’t a no. “Only if you want to,” you say quietly and the silence returns, before you hear the rustle of your sheets.

“Okay,” Jason whispers, and in the dark you think you hear him exhale shakily but you’re too relieved to pay attention, hope’s flickering flame roaring brightly once more.

It isn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. You’ve fallen asleep next to each other on movie nights, and when you’d been too stubborn to call it a night while nodding off watching your show. You know the softness of Jason’s bed, know the warmth of his shoulder against yours. And still, your heart races when he returns from the bathroom and climbs into bed beside you.

This isn’t a first. And yet it feels entirely novel.

His arm finds you in the darkness and he draws you closer to his chest, but he pauses. “Is – is this okay?”

He’s warm, heat bleeding through the thin shirt you’d pulled on. You settle a shaky hand over the one on your stomach, squeezing it briefly. Your throat feels dry as you rasp out, “Yeah. Yeah it’s okay.”

“Okay.” A silence, and you feel the ghost of a kiss being pressed into your hair. “Night.”

“Night.”

You wake first in the morning, turning over and blinking open bleary eyes to the sight of him still in your bed. Your heart stutters at the sight of him, and you feel shame wrap you in its grasp once more as you take him in.

He’s beautiful, you think mournfully. There’s a white hair hidden in the depths of his temple, you notice, and a freckle below his left eye, thick lashes fanning over it. You trace the line of the scar in his eyebrow once more, the subtle cleft in his chin, the shape of his mouth.

He shifts a little in his sleep and it makes you tense, but all he does is curl closer to you, the arm beneath your head flexing as he presses his nose to your temple. His other arm comes to sling over your hip. Affection comes in thick waves to you then, rising in your throat like the tide and threatening to drag you beneath its depths forever. Overwhelmed and in love, you press your face to his chest and hope he doesn’t feel the tear that slips down the side of your face, sliding against the skin of his wrist.

Jason wakes not long after you do, mouth curving into a tired grin when he opens his eyes and Hope, dangerous and fickle thing that it is, burns bright through the morning.

Your name makes you look up from the covert game of not-quite-footsie you’ve been playing with Jason on the couch, trying to keep your giggles to a minimum as you kick his feet away from yours while the others linger in the kitchen, arguing about pizza toppings. Jia bounds over to the adjacent armchair and you get one last kick in before you straighten your expression.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!”

You grin at that, pointing teasingly at her. “That’s because you’ve been flaking on us! When was the last time I saw you?”

Her mouth pulls up into a grin and you’re drawn into a conversation with her, but it’s difficult to pay her your full attention. The press of Jason’s thigh against yours makes your head spin a little, even though he’s busying himself with something on his phone.

Hope has left the both of you teetering on the precipice of something the last week or so, and you’ve started to wonder whether it isn’t entirely implausible that you’re not reading into it. Jason had kept his arm around your shoulder when you’d gone grocery shopping the other day, snickering and leaning in over the console in his car to steal a kiss before you carried the shopping in. He’s been stealing bites of your food off the plate you’d balanced on your knees only a few minutes ago, now empty and set on the coffee table, your drink in his hand as he texts back his brother.

It takes only a few words from Jia for you to lose your footing. You feel Jason stiffen next to you and you pause, registering her words.

“How’s that guy you were seeing? Are you guys still together?”

“What?” you ask and she grins at you, oblivious.

“C’mon, you remember. It wasn’t that long ago. I thought you liked him.”

The precipice of something does not overlook what you had thought it had – you fall, fall, fall, and hope, delicate thing that it is, gutters out before your eyes. You feel Jason draw away from you in the seconds it takes you to reply, only shifting in his seat and already an abyss yawns between the both of you.

Jia, ignorant to the upheaval her words have caused, directs her attention to Jason.

“Did they not tell you?” she laughs, and you want to shake her, but you’re silent. “Oh my gosh, didn’t he show up after your class with flowers?”

Jason looks at you in surprise and you can tell he’s remembering the flowers you’d brought home months ago, bright and red, they’d taken up a spot on your dining table for a week before they’d wilted. You hadn’t bought any flowers home since then – it’d been months ago. Months before you’d ever even come close to touching him, an age before you’d reached whatever weird middle you two were in, playing house like you’d been. Months ago. You want to scream at Jia for even bringing it up but you know she doesn’t mean any harm and really – more than anything, you’re mad at yourself.

It’s your fault, you think, grief and panic curling tight in your chest as Jason mumbles an excuse about having to use the bathroom and rises from the couch. You’re the one who hasn’t made it clear to him, cowardly and comfortable in the in between. All the things you should’ve said slam against the roof of your mouth. You like him, he’s the only one you want to cuddle with on the couch and bring flowers.

The smile on your face feels like a painted grimace for the rest of the night, and you don’t ever seem to get within a few feet of Jason before something comes up and he’s whisked away into conversation. You’ve never seen him so social.

“Oh, by the way, man-” Alex says, when you’re gathered in the living room, swallowing a mouthful of the cruiser that only he can stand to drink. “Steph’s friend, what’s her name – she asked me for your number.”

You can’t help yourself from turning your head, stomach twisting itself into knots, and you meet Jason’s gaze for the briefest moments as he looks over, biting the inside of his cheek contemplatively before nodding his head. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine, I guess.”

Well.

You remain rooted in your seat for what feels like the longest five minutes of your life, watching the movie with unseeing eyes before getting up with a half-hearted excuse to Jia.

“I’m gonna head home,” you whisper, pulling up a ride app. She turns to you with a pout.

“What? Noo.”

“I just remembered I’ve got a paper I have to turn in,” you grimace at her. “I’ll see you later.”

You whisper a bye to the host, crouching to your knees beside their chair and squeezing their arm with a promise to catch up later before you retreat, toeing your shoes on hastily and shutting the door behind you as softly as you can before rushing to the elevator.

In the car on the way home, you listen to the radio with the blood roaring in your ears. There’s a different kind of burning in your chest now, and by the time you reach your apartment, it threatens to leave only ash in its wake.

You lock your bedroom door when you storm inside, slumping onto your bed face down dramatically until it becomes hard to breathe, at which point you roll over. Staring at the ceiling, you feel the tears you’ve been holding back all night crowd your eyes, angry and leaving burning trails in their wake. You slam a fist against your mattress, letting out an aggravated sigh.

“Whatever,” you muse out loud stubbornly, ignoring the tremble in your voice, the lump in your throat that makes it difficult to swallow. “What the fuck ever. I don’t care.”

It’s a difficult thing to convince yourself of. When you hear the sound of the front door, nearing an hour or so later, your chest tightens in anxiety – far from uncaring, you sit up and watch the shadows in the hall move.

Footsteps pass outside your door, pausing only for a moment before you hear Jason’s door open and close. Your eyes burn once more.

You find it uncomfortable how quickly things turn grey in your home. There are no movie nights after that, no Jason peeking his head through the door of your room to ask you if you want to come with him to run errands, or to try the sauce he’s making for dinner, or if you have any clothes you need to throw in the wash because he’s got room in his basket and he needs to do a round. There isn’t much of anything, actually. Silence, thick and tense, hangs over the apartment and makes every noise all the louder.

You make your own meals, and Jason doesn’t look at you when you take your plate into your room. The groceries dwindle down and you go to the store after your class, only to come home and find bread already in the pantry when you go to put it away. The sight of it makes you grit your teeth, but you have no time to stare at it when you hear the click of Jason’s door opening, hurriedly stuffing the bread away before storming to your room.

There are times when you think Jason might break first on the cold war between the both of you out of pure frustration. It comes in the form of disapproving frowns when you return home late from classes, taking the bus instead of calling him – spite keeps you warm enough to make the short walk home as the weather cools – or leaving your dishes in the sink for the morning because you know he’s too stubborn to break first to yell at you about it. Still, he remains silent as you pass him in the hall.

“You guys need to kiss and make up about it,” is all that Steph has to say about it when you tell her, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “Seriously. He’s been so insufferable, I’m begging you. When he gets in a mood, I have to listen to Tim complain about it and I just don’t have the time to listen to him right now.”

“He can do whatever he wants,” you tell her frankly, curling into the corner of her couch. You pull at the sleeves of your hoodie, scowling at a thread that’s come loose. “I don’t care. He’s the one being childish.”

“Wrong.” She shakes her head, making a buzzing noise, as though the subject of your failed love life is as serious as a game show.

“He is,” you insist, nudging her thigh with a foot.

She shrugs, rolling her eyes skyward. “I never said he wasn’t. I just said you were wrong.”

It clicks for you, then, and you frown. “I’m not being childish, I’m just returning his energy.”

Steph’s face contorts into an expression of disbelief and you falter. “Why would you ever do that? Have you ever considered that just ‘cause he’s book smart doesn’t mean he’s love smart?”

It doesn’t make sense to you. Jason is whip-smart – it’s how he landed his job after graduation in the first place. You didn’t get to work at a leading firm without the credentials, and you’d been to his childhood home enough times to see the various certificates and medals filling a trophy case. Half the space in his room and your living room was taken up by the sheer amount of books in his collection, the spines worn and aged, spanning from romance to philosophy. You think he might be the smartest person you know – it doesn’t occur to you that he’s capable of occasionally making a mistake.

You tell Steph as much and she looks weary as she gears up to explain it once more to you.

“Does it feel right that things are like this between you?” You open your mouth to reply and she shoots you a piercing glare. “Be honest.”

Your shoulders slump. “No,” you admit, meekly.

“Then it doesn’t matter how he’s dealt with this,” she says, slapping her hands over your shoulders to give you a little shake. “You might as well try to fix it. And soon, please. I don’t think I can deal with the fallout from your lover’s spat again in this lifetime let alone this week.”

You apologise mentally to Steph when, going on a week later, you haven’t found the courage to approach Jason. Your temper wavers, constantly, as if unable to make its mind up. You go from shyness, hesitant to even leave your room for fear of bumping into him outside, to indignant, your pride demanding that he be the one to lay his armour down first. He’d accepted the other girl’s number to spite you.

Jealousy curls around your throat, tight, unforgiving, and fills your mind with thoughts of Jason, taking her out, looking at her in the way you want to steal all for yourself, eyes half-lidded and sweet; you imagine his fingers curling around hers, his shoulder brushing against hers on the couch. It makes you feel like you’re going insane, pressing your face into your pillow to let out silent screams, thrashing around on your mattress in the world’s quietest temper tantrum.

Spite drives you to sit in the living room on your day off and put on Gilmore Girls after Jason leaves for work, parking yourself on the couch and starting from the beginning of the series. You reason, despite the kernel of guilt that sits in the pit of your stomach, that even if you were watching the show without him, you a) had watched the show long before the two of you ever had officially started watching it together and b) hadn’t continued without him. The excuses feel pale to you, but you’re stubborn and it’s a harmless slight – one he won’t even know about.

Except, as it happens, you fall asleep in the afternoon and Jason happens to return home just as a new episode begins. You blame it on the tension of the last few days – you’d never slept better than when the two of you had been toeing the line of something more, but fighting with Jason steals sleep from you and you find it difficult to close your eyes without being met with the urge to stand at his door and make him hear you out. Pride and shame war within you at night in place of dreams, and you leave for your classes poorly rested.

You wake at the slam of the front door – you really need to speak to your landlord about replacing it, too heavy to close normally, but you’ve got your hands full being mad – and come face to face with a fuming Jason. He looks between you and the T.V, mouth dropping open.

“Are you serious?” he spits. It’s the first words he’s spoken to you in a week and you draw yourself to your full height, rising off the couch and planting your hands on your hips. His tone lights a fire within you, and you’re itching to let him have it.

“Excuse me?”

He narrows his eyes at you, scoffing. “You’re so...”

“I’m so what,” you sneer and he blusters for a moment, almost apoplectic.

“You’re so childish. What, we don’t talk for a few days and you’re gonna watch it without me?”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one that started ignoring me!”

“I didn’t see you trying to talk to me, either,” he retorts and your lip curls in anger.

“Why would I talk to -”

“Oh, I knew you would-” Jason cuts you off, but you’re unwilling to back down, raising your voice higher until the both of you are arguing over each other.

“Yeah, because you know everything – you’re so annoying -”

“I’m annoying-” he sputters, lifting a hand to point at the dishes. “I’m not the one leaving my dirty dishes in the sink. You’re disgusting.”

“Whatever, I don’t care. You wash them if they bother you so much! I’m not the one who forgets to wipe the counter in the bathroom after I use it!”

“That’s because you’re too busy leaving your clothes everywhere!”

On and on it goes, every petty grievance met with a complaint in turn. You argue until you’re heaving breaths and Jason is blue in the face, but none of it means a single thing to you, carrying the anger of a far bigger, unvoiced slight. And then, you don’t know how or why, but in a matter of seconds it is no longer unsaid. You’ve spilled it into the air between the both of you and Jason’s staring at you with a glint in his eye as if to say, finally.

“I can’t believe you took her number!”

And you hate the way your voice hitches on the last word, throat constricting as you stare at him reproachfully. You don’t let him reply, stepping closer angrily with your nails pressing into the palms of your hands, upset and hurt. “I told you not to talk to her and you just took it like-”

“Like what?” he challenges, and you can feel your eyes beginning to sting, humiliation washing hot over you. “Tell me.”

But you don’t know what to tell him. All you can do is stare, chest heaving and eyes wet. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he nods.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He lets out a breath, wiping a hand over his face wearily. “Whatever, I’ll talk. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt, playing like I’m your boyfriend and thinking maybe that’s what you want too–”

Your mouth opens helplessly, heart gripped in a tight vice at the hurt in his voice, his nose screwing up in upset.

“–and then I get the biggest reality check of my life, because I guess it isn’t what you want, but I just figured–” his voice cuts off then, and his eyes are ultramarine as he stares at you. “I just thought you’d be straight up with me.”

Panic engulfs you then, at the resignation in his face and you see it then, the profile of his back as he leaves, the packed boxes and the silence of an apartment too big for just one, the emptiness of the room next door, an ever clear mirror – you’re lurching forward before you can lose him.

“It is what I want!”

He doesn’t leave – yet. Your fingers grasp the sleeve of his hoodie tightly, and you can feel a few errant tears in the hollow beneath your eyes, marking a trail down the curve of your cheek as you stare at him.

“It is what I want,” you repeat yourself. Jason exhales shakily, but doesn’t make to remove your hand.

“Then – the guy?”

“I’m not seeing him,” you tell him, shaking your head fervently. “I haven’t -” Face warming, you duck your head. “For a long time...It’s only been you.”

He blinks slowly, lashes heavy as they flutter, eyes rimmed red. The tip of his nose is pink, too, you notice. Jason sniffs, looking away for a moment.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” his voice is rough, and you take a step closer. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, and you blink back your grief.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was scared. I guess I thought maybe I’d explain at home, but then...”

You trail off and above you, you can hear him kiss his teeth, face contorting into a grimace.

“I–” he blows out a breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you, ‘stead of assuming.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” you tell him sullenly. He grimaces, and you sigh, squeezing his wrist gently. “I should’ve told you, earlier, though – I was too chicken to talk to you, I didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“You should’ve,” he echoes you, lightly, a hesitant grin on his lips. “It wouldn’t have ruined it.”

“I know that now. I thought..” you trail off, embarrassed. He turns his wrist over in yours, your palms kissing, and squeezes your hand encouragingly.

“What?”

“I thought you just wanted no-strings, I thought maybe I was just reading too much into it. You never said anything, either, I thought I’d just be wrecking it if I brought it up,” you admit, averting your eyes. When you chance a look back at him, he looks dismayed.

“I did want it,” he says, lips curving downwards into a frown. “I thought you wanted no-strings, ‘n I was the one being selfish, wanting you to myself.”

The both of you stay there like that, in the middle of your living room, hands linked and an abject feeling of disappointment weighing your hearts down.

“It’s not what I want,” you whisper, desperation lining your voice. “I – I feel crazy, that’s how much it isn’t what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asks, a tremor in his voice.

There’s that feeling again, that choking fear that closes your throat up and roots you to the floor. There’s terror at the thought of being known – but stronger still is the fear of walking away from him at the end of this and it being forever. You struggle, forcing the words out.

“You.” You feel your eyes water once more. “I want you. For me, only. I want you to look at me and steal food from my plate and want me and – and be mine. I don’t care that you nag me about the dishes and I don’t care that you never put your shoes away properly–”

At this, he lets out a choked laugh.

“– and I know we argue all the time, I know I get on your nerves, but I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. Properly, with all the strings attached,” you finish, letting out a shaky breath.

Seconds pass.

“Say something,” you whisper, hand still in his.

Jason offers you a wobbly smile. “I want you to be mine, too,” he says, voice wrought with longing. “It’s all I ever wanted. God, I thought I was going to lose it when Jia started talking about that guy, I kept thinking about him getting to see that side of you, make you smile – bringing you flowers, I want to be the one to do that.”

“You’re the only one I want that from,” you murmur and his lips curve downwards into a rueful smile.

“We’re both pretty stupid, huh?” he remarks. Then, looking away, he clears his throat. “Look, I’m not – I don’t like her like that. I told Alex later not to, uh, y’know. I don’t – I didn’t get her number. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but – yeah.”

You stare at him, feeling pressure behind your eyes. Your voice comes out wobbly when you reply, a congested, “Good.” that has his face dropping, moving to curl his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, and you shake your head, pressing your face into his chest. The smell of coffee clings to his shirt, and you breathe it in, comforted by the feeling of his arms holding you tightly to his chest. You cling to him, unwilling to part too soon after the ugliness of the last week, and it’s only when he laughs your name against your temple, curling inwards to meet your height, tall as he is, do you pull away to look up at him.

“Can you-” your face grows warm. “Will you..kiss me?”

The expression on his face is immeasurably soft. You think, a week ago, if you had asked him this way, he might’ve laughed at the tone of your voice, needled you a bit about being so shy. You understand his gentleness now, though, as he murmurs a,

“Yeah, sweetheart. Come here.”

Your wounds remain tender, and Jason kisses you as though you’re something delicate, something to be treasured, lips slanting over yours, feather light, before he presses closer. He’s syrupy sweet, kissing you slow. There’s a newness in every touch, every shared breath and sigh. Hands that have trailed your waist and hips so many times before now squeeze your palms, fingers intertwined like a promise. He breathes your name against your lips, nose pressing into your cheek, still sticky with tears.

“I love you,” you tell him, and he kisses you once more.

In the middle of your living room, you begin anew.

fin.

author's note: holy fuck. here is 17.6k words of what i thought was going to be 80% smut 20% emotion and ended up being whatever this is. i said i wasn't going to start a longfic during the semester and then this would NOT stop bothering me so. here we are...that content warning looks like an ingredients list for real.

anyway i'll post an author's note on ao3 that doesn't sound like brainrot. probably. idk this fic isn't that deep. reader and jason r extremely unserious and also probably a little shitty but it's okay. it's the roomie verse! we didn't come here for innocent angel characters. let's be serious! also i tried to fit in every single roomieverse hc that i could sorry they r something like easter eggs to me. swifties have t@ylor swift you have ME! i was gonna say something about that woman but let me not speak ab her too much with a folklore inspired username LMAO

#divider by ithemes #jasonsmirrorball #roommate!jason #jason todd x reader #jay my heart #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd smut

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astrophileous · 11 months

Note

HI! i love your works and writing so much!! 🩷can i make a request for spencer x fem!reader, where spencer sees reader play with children (whether it be henry or a different child) and gets turned on? later, smut with a breeding kink?🩷 FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IF YOU DONT WANT TO DO IT🫶

OKAY BUT A DISCLAIMER FIRST: smut is so fucking hard to write ISTG!!!! It took me far too long a time to finish this and now I might have just acquired a newfound level of respect for any fic writers out there who regularly whip out smut in every fic. With that said, I hope you bear with me bcs I'm new and generally inexperienced in writing smut, so I hope this is to your liking 😭😭😭 ty for the request and waiting so patiently!! ❤️

Warning(s): fem!reader, 18+ smut content minors dni, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), breeding kink, praise kink (?), talks of impregnation, profanities, this is just porn without plot tbh

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"What's going on with you?" you asked as soon as the front door was shut behind your back.

Spencer turned around at your question. "What? Nothing's going on with me."

"Don't lie, Spencer. You've been awfully quiet since we left JJ's house." Your statement drove Spencer to tear his gaze away, but before he could take another step, you had seemingly transported right in front of him. "Talk to me. What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened, sweetheart. Just forget it, okay?"

"No, I wanna know. Tell me."

Spencer's jaw clenched at your display of persistence. You didn't miss the way his eyes turned a few shades darker as he pinned you with his relentless stare.

"You really wanna know?" Spencer murmured.

Before you could give him a verbal answer, your fiancé suddenly pushed himself forward, trapping your body with his as your back collided against the wall. You gasped at his proximity. The atmosphere quickly shifted as you felt Spencer trailing his nose against the length of your neck.

"You wanna know what's going on? The truth is, I've been going insane," Spencer admitted against your ear. "You're driving me insane."

"Spencer, what are you talking about?"

Against what you thought was possible, Spencer propelled himself further into you, to the point where the air you breathed out became the same one he inhaled. Spencer's knee shoved itself between the apex of your thighs, making you gasp from the unexpected friction that his movement caused.

"I watched you back at JJ's. The way you acted around Henry? I can't stop thinking about it, sweetheart. It's driving me crazy."

"What?" An involuntary gasp slipped past your lips when Spencer's teeth lightly grazed your pulse point. "What are you—"

"I want us to have a baby."

The shock you felt was undoubtedly written all over your face. Spencer pulled back just the tiniest bit so he could stare right into your eyes. The gentleness in his pupils contradicted the desperation found in all of the ministrastions he pulled so far.

"I know when we talked about it in the past, it always seemed like such a distant thing. But after seeing you today—how you doted on Henry? I can't help it, sweetheart." Spencer's fingers strayed towards your cheek, tracing an invisible line until his touch met your jaw. "I want to have a family with you, and I want it to happen sooner rather than later. You own my forever, angel. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll become as amazing a mother just as you are a person."

The admission rendered you speechless. Time arrived into a screeching halt where it stayed there for seemingly thousands of years. Spencer was assessing you with worry in the consequent silence, trying to solve the cipher in your countenance that could give him a clue to what you were thinking.

Just as he was about to call out your name, you lunged forward out of the blue, claiming his lips in an earth-shattering kiss.

The two of you molded into one another like a pair of fitted puzzle pieces. Fire was raging inside your chest when you pulled away, first telltale signs of arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"I wanna have a baby with you, Spencer. Please, I love you so much."

Spencer groaned wholeheartedly at the confession before diving back to kiss you even more fervently than before. Amidst the roaming hands and pleasurable gasps, the two of you somehow managed to stumble into the bedroom you had shared together for the past couple of years. Shed clothes littered the entire path you trudged, and in the blink of an eye, you found yourself naked on the bed with Spencer hovering above you clad in only his boxers.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer mused before taking one of your nipples in his explorative mouth. You writhed in pleasure while his fingers toyed with your other breast, making sure that no inch of your beauty escaped his attention. "Can't wait to see these full of milk, sweetheart. You'd look so beautiful pregnant with my baby."

You could only mewl when Spencer's lips trailed further southward, peppering kisses beneath your navel, just a sliver to where you needed him the most.

"Spencer, please. Ah. Don't tease."

Your fiancé chuckled at the desperation he heard in your voice. If it were any other day, he would have taken the time to edge you even further for the next few hours. But Spencer could feel his boxers getting tighter by the minute, and not wanting to prolong it any further, he slid downward until he was met with the view of your glistening folds.

"Fuck. So wet and gorgeous. Wish you could see how pretty you look, angel."

The moment Spencer's mouth touched your most sensitive part, you were gone for. His tongue lapped your juices like he was a man lost in a dessert while you were his oasis. The moans fled your throat when his lips wrapped around your taut clit, sucking and circling it with his tongue until you thrashed around uncontrollably. He then used his left forearm to pin your torso down, while his other hand started prodding the entrance to your heat.

"Oh my god, Spencer—mmphh," you whined when two of Spencer's fingers were snugly sheathed inside of you, going in and out until the whole room was overpowered by the obscene sound of your squelching wetness.

"You're so wet, angel. Holy shit," Spencer marveled as he fixated onto the movements of his fingers inside of you, the digits shining from your arousal that coated them. "So warm and tight, too. This all for me?"

"For you, Spencer, only for—oh, only for you. Feels so, mmhh, so good."

Spencer knew you were getting close from how tightly your walls were gripping his fingers, along with the way you were grinding your hips against his hand as if trying to amplify the pleasure you were reeling from. But right before the coil in your belly snapped, Spencer promptly removed his hand from your heat, making you whimpered in protest from the loss of contact.

"Patience, angel," Spencer said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. "I want to be inside you and feel you around me as you cum."

He made quick work in removing his boxers, revealing his erection that was already red and leaking pre-cum on the tip. Spencer hissed when he gave himself a few lazy tugs, aware of your burning stare as you watched him with a raging want.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Spencer asked, waiting for your nod before sliding his tip in. You moaned into his neck until the entire length of his cock was snugged inside, clutching Spencer for dear life as the man cursed against your cheek. "You feel so good around me. Fuck. You alright, angel?"

You could only nod meekly in response. "Need you to move, Spence. Please, move."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He drew his hips back until the only thing engulfed by your pulsating walls was his tip, before ramming back into you with enough force to knock the breath out of your lungs.

In no time at all, your fiancé was moving in and out of you vigorously. The lewd sound of skin against skin echoed within the four walls of your bedroom, fueling your desire until your whole being was consumed by everything Spencer. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and vein of Spencer's cock as it slid in and out of your weeping hole, but your hazy brain would argue that it was plainly your lust talking.

"Spencer." His name came out as a gasp as you felt the imminent climax rising higher and higher. "I'm so—ah, s-so close. Please, please, please, I need to—"

"I know, sweetheart. I know you are. Can feel you squeezing around me. Shit. Milking me so good, hm? Gonna milk me, angel? Gonna milk my cock dry?"

You couldn't think of any other reply to Spencer's crude words except to moan even louder.

"I'm close, too, sweetheart. Fuck. I love being inside you like this. 'M gonna cum so much, gonna have my seed so deep inside you until your womb is filled to the brim."

Your walls fluttered at the thought of being full of Spencer's cum, and this little knowledge didn't evade your fiancé's notice as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

"You like that, huh? Like the thought of my cum in your womb? Can't wait until you're all big and round, sweetheart. You're gonna make such a beautiful mommy."

"Wanna be a mommy, Spencer, I wanna have your baby!"

"Yeah? You want that? Wanna be pregnant with my baby and make me a daddy? Have a part of me inside of you, huh? Shit. Can picture it now, sweetheart. You'll look so gorgeous pregnant. Most beautiful mommy in the world."

Spencer's hips stuttered slightly. The mental image of you pregnant and barefoot, walking around your shared home carrying his child was doing abominable things to every neuron in his brain. That thought alone, along with the way your pussy was getting tighter around him by the second, was inevitably going to push him over the edge.

Without ever abating his pace, Spencer's fingers reached down towards your clit and started rubbing as if there was no tomorrow. You let out a scream at the added sense of pleasure that Spencer's fingers sent to your belly.

"That's it, angel. Just let it go for me. Let go and I'll give you every drop of my cum."

Another powerful thrust, coupled with a delicious stimulation to your bundle of nerves, had you cumming around Spencer's cock like you had never been before. It was one of the most intense orgasms of your life, and you couldn't do anything but wail and moan as Spencer continued to move inside you through it all.

Mere seconds later, Spencer's own undoing crashed into him like a truck. You felt his cock throb before warmth flooded in, spurts of cum painting every inch of your walls until Spencer was sure there was nothing else to empty. He collapsed on top of you as soon as he was done pulling out, panting breaths and a satiated smile as he buried his face in the column of your neck.

"So—" you began once your breathing had evened out, "—we're doing this, huh?"

Spencer looked up at your face. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. Definitely not. There's no one I'd rather do this with more than you, Spencer." You smiled, tucking a strand of your fiancé's overgrown curly hair behind his ear. "Although, I do have to say, I didn't expect you to be that type of guy."

"What type of guy?"

"The kind who gets territorial and borderline obsessed with the thought of impregnating their woman."

Your statement caused Spencer to laugh, crinkling eyes and head thrown back in a way that made your heart fall a little deeper for the man. You closed your eyes and sighed when his hand rose to cup your cheek.

"Can't help it, sweetheart. Any guy would be driven wild to have you as the mother of their child. I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

Spencer's proclamation was sealed with a kiss to your lips. It started out innocent enough before escalating in desperation with every minute that ticked by. Spencer swallowed all of your whimpers even when his hand started to meander downward, all the way past your abdomen, and right under your navel where your arousal was beginning to awaken once again.

At the first swipe of thumb on your clit, you gasped against his lips.

"Spence, what are you—"

"Sshh, we're far from finished, sweetheart. Didn't think I'd be done with you so quickly, did you?" Spencer smirked. "I'm gonna keep fucking you through the night, however long it takes, and fill you with loads after loads of my cum to make sure you are pregnant once this is all over. Now, you just lie back, angel. 'M gonna make you feel so fucking good."

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babygorewhore · 9 months

Text

Prey

Part one

Part two

After text messages from Rafe Cameron who completely ruined your night at his party, he knows every move you make and asserts his intentions through text messages. This starts a game to see how far Rafe will go to make you his, even if that means threats of punishments.

The horny demon took over with this guys. WC. 4,500

Warnings! Not a ton of plot. Dark! Rafe! Stalking! Panty stealing! Perv Rafe! Idk if she’s considered kind of bimbo because she’ caves in easily or what. Take it as you will. Female and male masterbation! Drug use,threats of violence and actual violence! Gun play! BDSM themes! One use of the Daddy! Choking!Degrading! Drinking! Hate fucking! spanking! unprotected sex! Reader is alternative but clothing is relatively generalized so it’s still inclusive. Damn that’s a lot of warnings.

Two days since your last text from Rafe Cameron. He knew about breakfast with John B. You tried not to check your phone as often as you wanted but the anxiety was hard to ignore. It was so insane. He just decided he wanted you after a bet. Why?

You kept tearing apart your room for any sign of a camera, microphone and you even taped the camera of your laptop for good measure. Maybe if you stayed home, that would be the best. But he knew what was going on. How?

John B asked you if you wanted to go to their traditional bonfire with the Pouges. You wanted to say no but maybe spending time with them would deter Rafe from his apparent need to text you vile things. You’d have a barrier. Surely, he couldn’t scare them all off.

It wasn’t as hot in the evening and you were thankful for that. Sarah gave you an extra pair of flip flops, but she did make sure they were black. You wore them and a black mid thigh dress. It was flowy and comfortable. But it was missing something as you sat down on a beach chair.

You left your underwear at home, on your bed. It was a test. To see if he really was getting in your house or he would go that far. It was a really bold move but you wanted bait him. Maybe if he broke in, you’d have something to report.

“Earth to you-“ A hand waved in front of your face.

“Oh, sorry.” You chuckled and adjusted your skirt. “What were you saying?”

“How are you? Since the whole bet thing happened?” Kie asked and you breathed heavily. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about. Apparently just with the videos disappearing wasn’t enough. “I’m okay. Doubtful I’ll ever swim in a pool again.” You started twirling the end of your hair nervously as time ticked.

No text yet. Maybe this was working. Maybe he was bluffing.

“We’ll kick his ass. Piece a shit picking on a Pouge.” JJ crushed a beer can and glared. “I’m sick of him getting away with it. We need to do something.”

“My brothers crazy. He would probably kill you.” Sarah pointed out and leaned further into John B.

“The fuck he would! He’s just some rich little punk whose never been put in his place.” JJ argued and you started to panic inside.

That was the furthest thing from the truth. You knew Rafe wasn’t just some punk. You didn’t even know him but you trusted your instincts.

“Guys, really. It’s okay. They’re taken down and it’s what I needed. I don’t need protection.” You insisted. God the suspense was killing you. Were you an idiot? Probably.

“Something weird happened today,” John B interrupted, “When I got into the car before her, I had this weird feeling someone was watching me,”

He started but you tuned him out as the night went on. You still didn't mention the texts. You didn’t wanna stir up anymore threats from JJ. You thought about the way he kissed that girl. His big hands roaming all over her hips and ass. It was so wrong for you to think about that considering how much of a dick he was.

But you couldn’t help it.

You were also scared shitless when you closed your bedroom door after you both arrived home, Sarah joining John B. You didn’t want to see that…so you locked your door.

You covered your mouth with both hands when you saw your panties. They were on your pillow and you could see even from here, they were wet and drying on the sides. Your bed was messy, your drawers moved open.

He had been here.

You carefully moved closer, gingerly lifting them. The creamy substance was evident on what it was. He came on it. And from the way it was almost dripping, multiple times. You dropped it on the floor and dug in your dresser.

All your panties were gone. Your mouth was wide open with shock.

You stepped forward, prepared to tell John B that Rafe Cameron broke into his home when your phone finally buzzed.

Frantically you brought it to your face.

“Put them on.”

Oh no. Was he serious? How did he know-there must have been a camera. Where was it?

“Put it on, or I’ll kill him.”

“You wouldn’t.” You speedily responded. Growing angry. How dare he threatened him. Just to get what he wanted in his perverted mind. “That’s a pussy ass threat.”

“Who says it’s a threat? I know exactly where he goes. When he goes. And who he talks too. I know everything about this place. And I know everything about you.”

Chills ran down your spine.

“I don’t believe you.” You started breathing heavier as you clutched at your chest. He wasn’t joking. You knew that. If he was rich enough to afford that house without a second glance, surely he could pull this off.

“You graduated with impressive grades, you’re an only child, you have a habit of reading kinky porn, your parents owned a music store for three decades. John B is your cousin on your Mothers side and you…you’ve only had one boyfriend. Chris. From high school.”

Your knees almost gave out. Everything was true. Not all of those things were even on your instagram. Fuck, not even your FRIENDS knew some of that shit. How did he find out? Did he run some sort of-

“You ran a fucking background check on me?” You typed in all caps, your thumbs slapping on the screen. “ARE YOU INSANE? JUST STOP IT AND DON'T THREATEN JOHN B!”

“Then put them on.”

You weren’t getting out of this. “Okay if I put them on, what then?”

“Lay down on the bed.”

You slithered them on, his cum coating your pussy as you rubbed your thighs together. Maybe it was your own fault with this experiment but he would have done it anyway.

Your back met the top of the covers and you had the image of his leaking cock around the material. Spilling onto the silk and lace. You spread your legs, assuming that’s what he wanted.

“No, you’re not allowed to touch yourself or cum. Not unless I’m inside you with my cock, fingers or tongue. This is just showing your pussy exactly who gets to cum in it. The longer you fight this, I’ll punish you. And I don’t think you’ll like that.”

“Punish me?”

“That’s what I said. If you’re not a good girl, then your little pouge friends are gonna pay. Do you understand me?”

You wanted so badly to tell him to fuck off. “No I don’t speak asshole, I did it. I put them on and now you leave me alone.”

You closed your phone and decided you wouldn’t listen to anything he said. Laying back down, you pulled off the underwear easily and it’s slick smeared on your inner thighs.

You were pent up from sadness, anger and now spite. If he was watching, then you’d put on a fucking show. Spreading your legs, your fingers delicately teasing your cunt and you started circling your clit. You twitched and clenched around the air as your own wetness combined with his. He couldn’t possibly read your thoughts. His muscular arms would hold the headboard as he pounded into you.

You liked challenging him. Secretly, that’s one of the things that made you wet. Talking back to him. Your core tightened as your speed increased before you slipped two small fingers inside, curling them up. They couldn’t reach the spot you wanted. You tried to move at a different angle before settling on just playing with your clit.

You curled up when you came, harder than usual and you bit your lip to keep from making too much noise.

After calming, you hesitated before clicking on your phone.

“Oh, pretty girl. I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”

That was all he said.

Now, you were trembling again. The threat echoed. You started biting your nails. What would happen? What punishment was he talking about?

It wasn’t like he would break in with John B here or would he? He wasn’t concerned about your cousin in the slightest.

You took some initiative. If he knew so much about you, you could return the favor. Have something on him.

You googled his name.

Rafe Cameron, eldest and only son holding Cameron’s name after Ward and Rose Cameron’s passing.

Rafe Cameron, under thirty CEO bringing numbers to the maximum within two years.

You sighed, only getting a superficial history of his age and family line. Huffing, you needed more. There was one option. You went to instagram and found his official and only account. Your mouth went dry. His photos consisted of golf yards, parties and two photos of him wearing a suit next to a giant table in an office that looked like it was in the future.

Absolutely nothing. Nothing to go on. And nothing to rub in his face. Of course.

An idea came to you. Maybe you couldn’t find anything online. But you had an entire group of rebels who could tell you everything you needed to know. You smirked. Finally, you could get back at him.

“So, John B, was it…hard to be Sarah’s boyfriend? I mean the war between Pouges and Kooks seems pretty intense.” You sat at the dock while he tackled some sort of contraption, working back and forth between boats. It was a half lie when you said you wanted to go with him while he worked.

But you needed information. You didn’t get a text yet but you knew that wasn’t defeat on his part.

“For a while,yeah. Topper made it his mission to come after me. We got into it a few times, then he pushed me. I broke my wrist. Rafe…it’s complicated.”

You quirked an eyebrow, trying not to look too interested. “How?” For good measure, you played with the end of your skirt. All your panties were gone and you were trying not to shift every five seconds.

“Rafe’s crazy. He used to be this out of control, frat boy cocaine addict and he was,” John B stops moving, “Dead set on destroying us. Came at us with guns. He’s dangerous but now he’s got money. All the money.”

Your heart fluttered. And now, Rafe had his sights on you.

“What about their other sister..?”

“She lives with him. He almost shipped her off to boarding school but I guess she’s his one soft spot. Sarah talks to her sometimes. That’s why I was upset you went to that party. They’re bad people. Stay away from him.” His warning makes you nod.

But would he stay away from you?

A week later, you arrived at the Pouge spot with John B that was even marked by a tree they carved. You carried a cooler of booze as you got closer to the circle but you, John B and Sarah realized Pope and JJ were missing

You were all searching for at least ten minutes now, you called out his name, cupping your hands. “Pope! JJ! Where are you?”

Your converse were getting in the way of the sand and you finally stopped being stubborn, removing them as you maneuver through the woods. You were alone and it felt uncomfortable.

The moon was illuminating your ring clad fingers as a snap of a branch caught your attention. “Pope?”

A large strong hand covered your mouth and you eyes widened, you were being yanked off the ground and carried off. “Mm-he-“ You tried to form words but the hand pressed harder. You kicked, flailed but to no avail.

The assailant dragged you off to a darker corner where you saw a unconscious Pope and JJ lying on the ground as you were pushed against a tree.

Rafe stood in front of you, even in the darkness you could still see the desire and anger in his eyes. “Scream and I’ll kill them.” He growled. “Can I trust you?”

You nodded rapidly, glancing between him and your friends.

“Good girl,” He approved, his hand sliding to your throat. He didn’t even bother wearing black to blend in. His beige shirt was layered with another light jacket and dark jeans.

Rafe’s hair was in his eyes and he leaned in closer. “I told you. I’d punish you if you didn’t do as your told.” Your core fluttered. You knew it shouldn’t but his voice was rasping as his hand tightened. He pulled something out of his pocket.

A pair of red panties. He shoved them into your mouth, far enough you gaged. “Stay fucking still.” You knew if you didn’t listen he would hurt them, he proved that.

Pope and JJ had bruises, swollen eyes and bloody noses. But they were breathing. You started jerking around, trying to gain some sort of release from his hold when Rafe yanked out a gun. You gasped, the sound muffled. “Yeah? You see that?” He pointed it at them. “Do you think I’m kidding?”

Rafe pulled out the panties, a string of drool escaping from your mouth. “Answer me.”

“No-I know you’re not kidding.” Tears came from your eyes but you tried to pull them back.

“My poor little angel, not so tough now, are you?”

“Fuck you-“ Another attempt to defy, fake like you weren’t as scared as you truly were. “You’re bluffing.”

He pressed you harder against the wood. His iron clad muscles pinning you hard enough it hurt. “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” Then he moved the gun between your shorts. Grazing against your jean covered pussy.

“This is fucking real, princess.” Rafe started smirking. “Move around a little bit. Give me a hint of how well you can bounce on a dick.”

Your face became hot but you obeyed without thinking. You circled your hips, holding your breath and praying the gun wouldn’t go off. He nodded, his lips nearing yours and your mouth parted.

“Rafe-Why? Why are you doing this? Why did you do any of this?” You whimpered as his lips found the sweet spot of your neck. They were warm and soft in contrast to the gun rubbing against your pussy.

“Because you’re mine. That first day I saw you. I was going to have you. John B couldn’t hoard away something that belonged to me.” You wanted to shake your head but he started sucking the connection between your shoulder and neck.

That’s why he stared at you. That’s why he even started the bet in the first place.

“I liked how you stood out with your fucking band shirt and converse you won’t stop wearing. And this,” He pulled back to your displeasure and tapped the gun against your cunt.

“That belongs to me too. I’m gonna walk away, you’re going to yell to your cousin you found them. Feel free to scream and pretend you’re not soaking wet. And you’re going to be a good girl again, aren’t you? You gonna to listen to daddy?”

“Yes.” He stepped away, taking your panties with him. He scanned the scene, nodding behind you.

“Don’t disobey me. This can get so much worse,” With his final warning, Rafe started walking backward before he disappeared.

You waited a few seconds to collect yourself. He teased you but not enough to make you cum. Just enough to mark his territory and scare you.

“J-John B!” You weakly called out. “I found them!”

He arrived in seconds with Sarah right behind him.

John B, Sarah and Kie panicked, trying to wake JJ and Pope. You hastily wiped your face and shook your hair loose.

“I-I just found them like that. I’ve been searching the whole time,” You lied, hoping your voice was steadier than how you felt.

You stayed quiet as they woke by the fire. Your knee bouncing as flashbacks of how the gun felt, Rafes lips. His warnings and worse. How much you liked it.

When no one was looking, too busy planning their wild accusations downfall, you took out your phone. He had texted you.

“Behave.”

You pressed your knees together, concealing your phone behind them. “What will it take for you to leave them alone?”

“That’s a dangerous question, little girl.”

You had to change your tactic. The last thing you wanted was for him to actually shoot them.

“When will I see you again? I don’t want you to break in anymore. If you want something, just take it.” Oh no, the words slipped out before you could even think.

Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes went by.

An hour.

“Tomorrow. My house. 8pm. Wear what’s in the box in your bedroom. I’ll have someone pick you up.”

The tense drive home couldn’t have ended sooner as you stepped in your bedroom. Continuing to lie to your cousin about what happened in the woods. You knew he wasn’t stupid. Eventually he would catch on that something was happening. But his life probably depended on it. This was going too far.

You were so stupid for opening the white small box on the center of your bed.

Lifting the lid, your eyes widened as you pulled out a black lace shirt, matching bra, a thong and shorts that would barely cover your ass. Knee socks and connecting garter belts. But the most toe curling item in the box was a pair of black handcuffs. Expensive kind.

You held them to your chest. You’d have to wear something over them to get past John B. Your conscience fought you, insisting to tell John B. Rafe almost killed his friends.

But he felt so good. It was so wrong that it was right. You almost didn’t care right now. He was obsessed with you and you weren’t any better. The way you spent time trying to find information, the way you listened to every word he said. He was breaking you down. You almost didn’t recognize the person you were when you arrived.

Rafe Cameron was intoxicating and you’d only seen him twice.

Third times the charm right?

He had his own personal fucking driver pick you up the next night. You left when John B was passed out in his room, worn out from a day at the docks. You slipped on an oversized black shirt long enough to hit your thighs as you climbed into the car. You were disappointed that there were no texts today but you had a feeling he was going to make up for it. Or else you’d face another punishment.

The drive was quiet but when you arrived at his house it wasn’t. Another wild party scene was before you, the same changing colored lights on the outside and consistently bright on the balcony. As you got out of the car and started walking, this time wearing your high heels. Only this time you were wearing a hand selected piece from the King Of Kooks.

You hoped you could slip in easily through the front door silently but someone opened the door. He was shorter than Rafe, dark brown hair, wearing a wife beater and shorts. “My bad, come on in.” He ushered you in with a wave and you cringed.

Obviously he knew you. Whether from Rafe or the videos.

“And you’re…?”

“Just like Country club not to mention anyone else. Barry.” He gave you a nod. “He’s up there.”

You couldn’t help but shiver as everyone was dancing, drinking and making their way to the outdoor pool. You understood this could be another set up.

Barry dipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a bag full of cocaine, apparently offering you some.

“I’ll pass,” You declined and forced yourself to smile and calm your nerves. You could do this. You had too

You wanted too.

Climbing the stairs in high heels was difficult enough but fighting a crowd made it even harder. You couldn’t hardly concentrate and you had the urge to plug your ears to muffle the noise.

Once you reached the top, close to the balcony, your phone buzzed. Embarrassingly, you yanked it out of your clutch.

“Colder.” You jerked your head around, looking for any sign of him. No one. He wasn’t here. No one looked even close to him.

You went left towards another lounge, peering inside the darker room where they were dancing.

“Even colder.”

Okay, you were very clearly not in the right direction.

But you needed something to give you a boost. Marching towards a brunette young man holding two cups, you reached out your hand. “Can I have that?” He stammered but handed it over.

Without even knowing the content, you gulped it down before gagging. Whatever concoction was strong and had you coughing.

But then you took the other one. “Hey!” He protested but you ignored him, going to the opposite side.

You threw them both on the ground, a surge of electricity going through your veins.

“Warmer.” It said when you fished out your phone from your bra.

You resisted wiping your mouth, not wanting to ruin your makeup. Your legs carried you down a hallway, the noise growing into a quieter thump against the walls. There were no photos. Almost no signs of living if you imagined the guests gone. The clacking of your shoes neared the first door.

“Hot. Almost there.”

Swallowing, you walked past the second door.

“Hotter.”

You breathed like you were blowing out a candle as you drew to the third door.

“Open it, pretty girl.”

The alcohol must have given you an extra boost as you opened the door roughly, your lips forming a natural pout as you took in Rafe standing beside a bed. He was wearing a three quarter length white shirt with small strips and the same dark jeans as he did in the woods. His hair was messy, like he constantly ran his fingers through it.

His entire body radiated danger, lust and control.

But his eyes held a fire, one you were terrified and eager to provoke.

To the right of him was a large desk with several monitors and a laptop. Your mouth parted into a gasp when you saw they were all live feeds.

One of them was outside your room, the others were at the docks and the rest were of his own home. That’s how he was watching you.

“You-you’ve really been stalking me.” You whispered.

“It’s really not that hard. You make it too easy.” He mused with a low voice. “But I’m-I’m having a hard time understanding why you’re wearing something other than what I gave you.”

“Don’t change the subject, Rafe. This isn’t okay. You’re going to stop. I did everything you wanted. Now you leave John b and the rest alone.” Your voice wasn’t steady. From nervousness and the drinks.

And he knew that from the way a smirk formed on his pink lips. “But not you?” He clicked his tongue. “Naughty girl. You don’t want me to leave you alone. I didn’t forget our last…meeting.” His eyes lingered around your hips. “With a gun to your pussy.”

“No, no, stop. I don’t know-I don’t like you.”

Rafe only stepped closer, inching towards you. “Your body does.. Your pussy love our little games. You’ve had so many chances to run. Not that they would work-“ He chuckled darkly. “But you’re doing everything I want you too.”

His hand shot out and ripped the shirt in half. You shrieked, your legs almost buckling as your body was exposed. Rafes breathed in the scent of your perfume as he roamed with his fingers the lingerie, his palms falling to your tits, squeezing before he gripped your waist and spun you around. Your ass against his cock.

“Move like you bounced on my gun,” He ordered against your ear, his warm breath and you could feel his lips trace the side of your jaw.

All your thoughts disappeared as he guided you to grind against him, your pussy dampening the material as your eyes drifted shut. His own breathing quickened as your hand flew behind to palm him.

“Dirty slut, you’re so scared but I know you’re fucking dripping.” He was so tall that he could slip his hand easily between your legs and gather the slick leaking from your center. He then shoved it in your mouth, forcing you to suck.

“That’s all fucking mine, I don’t care if you hate me. I want you to fucking hate me. You like that I stalked you. Watch you, that I know everything.” He was growing more aggressive as he threw you face down on the bed, ripping off your shorts, he slapped your ass hard enough you jolted.

You heard his belt and pants drop as he manhandled you, wrapping your hair around his free hand as you felt his dick line up to your pussy. “Say you hate me,” He spat and slammed into you without warning.

You almost screamed from the stretch and fullness as he thrusted into you. You couldn’t even breathe from the hold he had on your hair, as you started rubbing your clit. “I-“ You tried, barely managing to squeak.

“Say it!” He yelled, slapping your ass again and you fell on your hands.

“I hate you!” You gasped for air and he pushed your head down. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

Your core clenched around him as your stomach tightened, you were so close, so fucking close. Rafe moaned deeply, his movements slowing but still brutal.

He spilled into you and you came right after. Sweat dripped from your face as you jerked. Your mouth was still open, spit gathering and you wiped it off. Your breathing slowed as he pulled out, releasing you to flop on the mattress. Your makeup stains the white comforter.

Trying to calm down and assess the situation you got yourself into, you heard Rafe clear his throat in an expected manner.

You crawled around as he pulled up his pants. “I hope you liked that, because that’s the last time you get to cum tonight.”

“W-“

“You forgot to bring the handcuffs.” You almost fainted. Half from being cock drunk, still spilling from both fluids and half from horror.

Rafe only gave you a very threatening smile. “But don’t worry. No one is getting through that door. And besides, even if they tried, I can see every move they make.” He pointed to the monitors.

“I’m nowhere done with you yet.”

Tagging @scene-and-dandylover @xxhellfirebunnyxx @drewstarkeyslut @daivny @slvt4jamesmarch @imyourdaninow @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @chrrymunson @take-everything-you-can @reidsbtch

Please let me know if I forgot anyone! Comment if you wanna be tagged in future Rafe or all my fics!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron x female reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut #rafe cameron fanfiction

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mpileons · 7 months

Text

behind the goal posts | alexia putellas x reader

chapter 1 <

Summary: Everyone knows Alexia Putellas. Star football player and the face of Barcelona. However, what they don’t know is that she is been in a secret relationship for years, and that relationship is slowly slipping out of her hands.

Word Count: 2.8K

—

A/N: i got a bit too carried w/ the angst.. oops. and i didnt proof read this so i apologize for any inevitable mistakes :)

Chapter Two …

Present Day –

As 12AM hits, I find myself still waiting for Ale to come home from training. I decide to call my bestfriend to prevent my thoughts from further spiralling. “Hey chica, wait what's up?” my best friend's voice blares through my headphones as a frown etches onto her face, sensing that something is off with me. “Did she do something?” I start to shake my head because I know if I speak my voice will betray me and all my anxieties will be laid bare for her to see. It’s not that I don't want her to see, more that I don't want to acknowledge any of this. I’d like to believe that Alexia and I are still in that honeymoon, that she’ll come home early and shower me with kisses while we make dinner,that we will go back to watching films while our limbs intertwined till we didn't know whose body is whose. I know deep down that we have derailed so far away, we are slowly plummeting into an abyss of resentment and I don't know how to save us. “Y/N please talk to me” Kira’s voice brings me back to earth, I see the anxiety increasing tenfold on her face as she watches me intently. “I don't know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper as I fiddle with the strings of my hoodie.

"It's just... Ale was out late last night, and she's still not home. And she's been so distant lately. It’s like I am living with a ghost, I can't shake this feeling that something's wrong." I rush out as quickly as humanly possible, as if I say it fast enough my brain won’t think about it and therefore it won’t become real.

“That’s strange, have you brought it up with her?” Kira's voice held a gentle probing, her concern evident. But then again, I couldn't fault her for that. Our nightly chats had become a lifeline, teetering on the edge of panic. It's strange, really. Ale used to be the one to ease these moments, but now, it's her actions that stir them up.

Present Day | Alexia’s Point of View —

As I step into the dimly lit apartment, the sharp remnants of the night at the club are still echoing in my mind. However, the laughter and camaraderie of my teammates felt distant now, replaced by a hollow emptiness.

I moved through our shared apartment with a sense of detachment, a space that was once so familiar now feels like a ghost town. The weight of exhaustion drags at my limbs as I head towards our room. But as I pass by the closed door, I can hear a snippet of a conversation that catches my attention, drawing me to a sudden halt.

"... it's strange how Ale used to calm me down from these attacks and now it is her that is causing them," Y/N's voice, tinged with worry and frustration, drifted through the door, sending a pang of unexpected guilt coursing through my chest.

For a moment, I stood rooted to the spot, Y/N’s words hanging heavy in the air like an accusation. The weight of her evident disappointment bores down on me like a crushing weight, quickly suffocating and stealing every word out of my mouth. How had I become the source of Y/N's pain, when did this happen?

Without another word, I retreated to the living room where the walls feel like they are closing in around me as the echoes of Y/N's words reverberated in my mind. Hours passed in agonising silence, the tension in the apartment thickening with each passing moment. And then, as if on cue, the dam burst.

Present Day | Y/N’s Point of View —

I took tentative steps to the living room to check if Ale had come home, the faint scent of alcohol hanging in the air further proving that she’s back.

As I rounded the corner, my gaze fell upon Alexia slumped on the couch with her head bowed and a half-empty bottle of whiskey clenched tightly in her hand. Her usually vibrant eyes were now dull and unfocused, the lines of exhaustion etched into her features.

A sudden surge of anger and frustration takes over my body. I naively thought that maybe today would be different, that today Ale would come to me instead of seeking comfort from a bottle.

But as I stood in front of Ale and truly take in the sight in front of me, a different surge of emotions come. I am quickly overwhelmed with a wave of guilt as I watch the woman I love more than anything crumble beneath the weight of her own self-destructive tendencies. No matter what I try to do or say, nothing can seem to get through the indestructible walls she had built around herself, the walls she once used to let down around me.

All of a sudden, I couldn't muster up any anger towards the woman who firmly held my heart in her grasp. I could shove aside my own emotions, even if it meant indulging in self-destructive tendencies, just to care for her.

"Ale," My voice was soft, barely more than a whisper as if my words would fracture her even further. I slowly approached the couch, my heart aching with a pain I couldn't name. "What happened tonight?" I asked while tentatively taking the bottle out of her grasp.

Alexia's head snapped up at the sound of my voice, her eyes glazed and distant as she struggled to focus on me, an effect from her excessive drinking that has become more familiar to me than I’d like. "Nothing," she muttered, her voice slurred with the aftereffects of alcohol. "Just... just another night out with the girls."

My eyes furrow with concern, I try to find any piece of the woman I loved, the woman who would buy me new flowers immediately after the previous flowers died, the woman who would wake up earlier before practice just to spend time with me, the woman who would bring me food to the library while I was drowning in assignments. But all I could see was the shell of that woman. All I could was emptiness and it was killing me. She was killing herself while clutching my heart within her hands, bringing me down with her.

My voice trembled with disappointment as I settled beside Alexia on the couch, the tension between us crackling like electricity. The atmosphere in the room felt heavy, suffused with the weight of unspoken grievances and broken promises. "You promised, Ale," I began, my tone beginning to edge with unbearable frustration as I decide to confront her broken vows. "You swore you'd try to get better, that you wouldn't let this control you anymore. That you would try for me, for us."

Alexia's eyes flashed with a mix of shame and defiance, her fingers stealing the bottle from my hands and tightening around the bottle in her hand as she clearly tried to brace herself for the impending conflict. The lines etched on her face increased tenfold. "I know," she admitted, her voice strained with the evident weight of her own struggles. "But it's not as simple as just trying, Y/N. You don't understand how hard it is. You just don’t."

My patience waned quickly as I met Alexia's gaze, my own resolve beginning to falter under the weight of our unresolved issues. "I'm trying to understand, Alexia," I defiantly retorted, my voice rising slightly with frustration. "But how can I when you won't let me in? You keep shutting me out, pushing me away every time I try to help."

A spark of anger ignited within Alexia's eyes as she rose to meet my challenge, her own frustrations bubbling to the surface. "Maybe if you actually understood what I'm going through, you'd realise that I'm not doing this to hurt you," she shot back, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I'm doing this because I can't bear to see you disappointed in me again."

The raw emotion in Alexia's words further broke my heart, the sting of guilt mixing with her own simmering anger. "I know, but you promised, Alexia," I murmured, my tone quiet but sharp with anger, "It just seems like you don't care about keeping your word anymore. You're drowning yourself in alcohol, and you're dragging us down with you."

I can see Alexia's gaze harden, her own frustration boiling over as she shot back once again, Never one to back down. “Don't act like you're perfect, Y/N. You're always on my case, like you have it all figured out. But guess what? You don't. You never have."

I clench my jaw as I fight to keep my temper in check, I know that Alexia isnt in the right state for this discussion, but her words hold some flicker of truth which is why the words spill out despite my best efforts. "I may not understand everything you're going through, but at least I'm trying. What about you, Ale? Are you even trying anymore, or have you just given up once again?"

The accusation struck a nerve, and Alexia's temper flared, her voice rising to match my intensity. "Of course, I'm trying!" she exclaimed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "But it's not enough for you, is it? Nothing I do is ever enough!"

My eyes flash with hurt and indignation while my voice trembles with emotion. "That's not true, Ale," I protest, my heart aching at the sight of the woman I adore unravelling right before my eyes. "I just want you to be happy, but I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I can't do it anymore when it is destroying me further knowing I can’t help you despite my best attempts to."

Tears welled in Alexia's eyes as she struggled to contain her rising emotions, the weight of their argument bearing down on her like a crushing weight. "I don't know how to be happy anymore, Y/N," she admitted, her voice breaking with despair. "I feel like I'm drowning, and I can't find a way out."

The distance between us grew with each passing minute, each second driving a deeper wedge between our fractured hearts. And during the chaos of our bitter exchange, I just had a sinking feeling that my love might not be enough to save us from the impending darkness that I know will consume us completely, sooner or later.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, my voice immediately softened, a tremor of uncertainty lacing my words as I try to grind the words I thought I’d never say out loud, not to Alexia, not even in a million years or in a hundred different universes did I think I’d say this to her.. "Maybe... maybe we need some time apart," I suggest, the weight of the admission heavy on my tongue.

Alexia's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief at the suggestion. "A break?" she echoed, the word heavy with resignation and a hint of desperation.

I nod, my own heart aching at the realisation that our relationship might be hanging by a thread. "Just... for a little while," I murmur, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "To figure things out."

6 Months Ago | Alexia’s Point of View —

As the sun set over the horizon, casting hues of pink and gold across the sky, I led Y/N to a secluded spot in the park since I decided to surprise her with a special outing to a drive-in cinema. I see her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of twinkling fairy lights strung between the trees and a soft glow emanating from a cluster of candles.

With a nervous but determined smile, I take Y/N's hand and lead her to a cozy spot in front of the car. We start to settle onto a blanket spread out in the back of the car, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of birds chirping.

As we cuddle together under the starlit sky, the screen flickers to life with the opening scenes of "La La Land," Y/N's favorite film, I had put that somewhere in the depths of my mind when she told me, knowing it will somehow be important later on.

During an especially poignant moment in the film, I reach into a nearby picnic basket and pull out a carefully crafted scrapbook that took me longer than I’d like to admit. After all I am athlete not an artsy person. But for her, it’s all worth it.

I watch as she curiously flips through the pages, her eyes widening in surprise and delight as she sees photos of our many movie nights together, interspersed with handwritten notes and film strips capturing precious moments we’ve shared over the last few months.

My hands start to lightly tremble while I intertwine Y/N's hand with mine, as I feel her hand fitting perfectly into mine, a warmth spreads through me, comforting the trembles that threaten to give away my nerves. "Y/N," I start, my voice barely above a whisper but laced with the depth of my feelings, "I never imagined that one person could fuel my heart with such love and devotion, I can’t even imagine my life without by my side and I ..."

Y/N's eyes meet mine, shimmering with unshed tears of happiness. Without a word, her gentle nod speaks volumes, affirming the depth of her love and commitment. "Yes, Ale," she murmurs, her voice a soft caress against the night air, "I choose you, now and forever."

Present day | Y/N’s Point of View —

Before I can even take a step forward, a familiar blonde head of hair envelops me, momentarily throwing off my balance. "Geez, Leah, trying to knock me over?" I chuckle, returning the embrace of my lifelong friend. Football was never my thing before Ale, but Leah and I go way back to our days in the primary school astronomy club, and our bond has only grown stronger since then. Proving our friendship to be stronger than any time zone or country.

"How do you manage to shrink every time I see you? Is there something in the water in Barca?" Leah teases as she takes my luggage from my grasp and leads the way to her car. I just shake my head at her usual antics, gazing out at the Heathrow Airport parking lot. London. I haven’t been back home in years, never felt the need to with Ale around, but now that I've lost her, it feels like I've lost my home along the way as well. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, leaving me feeling nauseous. In just a few days, I've lost everything that mattered.

Hours later, after battling the infamous London traffic, we finally arrive at my flat. It's a sad time capsule of my past life. Remnants of old friendships and memories linger in every corner, a stark reminder that while I've changed, the world around me has kept on spinning. That time waits for no one, and as I sink deeper into my thoughts, Leah's concerned voice breaks through the silence. "Are we going to talk about it, or are we gonna keep pretending like nothing's happened?" she asks, her honesty cutting through the tension. I join her on the couch, resting my head on her shoulder with a heavy sigh. "I don’t know," I admit, uncertainty weighing heavily on my mind.

“Cmon, as your favourite bestfriend I think i deserve more honesty than that.” She tries to lightly joke, but I know her words hold some level of honestly. And the words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I find myself at a loss for words. She's always been there for me, through the good times and the bad, but this... this feels different. It's not just a bump in the road; it's a complete upheaval of everything I thought I knew. I know nothing anymore.

"I know," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... it's all so overwhelming, you know? I thought I had everything figured out, but now... now I don't know what to do."

Leah quickly wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer in a comforting embrace. "It's okay not to have all the answers," she reassures me, her voice soft but firm. "Just take it one step at a time. We'll figure it out together. You still have me no matter what. You know that.”

I nod, grateful for her words of wisdom. But even as I try to take comfort in her presence, a nagging feeling of unease lingers at the back of my mind. How do you move forward when everything you once knew has been shattered right in front of you? Where do you even begin?

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ghost-1-y · 10 months

Text

Sabotage

Trickster!Sanemi x Fem!Tricked Princess!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, dubcon(?), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (f! receiving), oral sex (m! and f! receiving), fingering, handjob, Sanemi can clone himself, double penetration (therefore anal), HEAVY degradation, brat tamer!Sanemi x bratty!reader, Sanemi has an olfactophilia kink, masturbation (Sanemi), spanking as punishment, overstimulation as punishment, lots of dumbification, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, multiple creamp!es, Sanemi is mean in this, Sanemi points a knife to reader’s throat at some point (he doesn’t draw blood), mentions of food, mentions of dead animals, reader is a spoiled, bratty princess, brief mentions of homewrecking (not acted upon), mentions of a future arranged marriage, Sanemi plays “tricks” on reader, lmk if I missed anything!!

Word Count: ~15k

A/N: apologies for this taking literally forever for me to post, I went through a period of burnout and have been in classes these past two months. Also, apologies for this being so long, the plot got ahead of me and it ended up becoming my largest fic to date, but I do promise smut at the end (as you can probably tell by the content warnings lmao). Also please be nice I’m sorry if this fic is actually awful lol :')

Divider Credit: @/cafekitsune

The sound of crystal heels against marbled stone were followed by head turns of maids and servants as you walked through the long corridor, bowing or curtseying as you passed, soft murmurs of your highness and my princess uttered in haste before returning to their duties.

Everything was as it should be: polished gold-framed paintings and chandeliers lit with gentle flames above, ornate silver door handles grasped by armored knights as entrances opened for you time and time again, strolling up rounded stairways and into the throne room – where your father, King Ubayashiki, and his wife, Lady Amane, sat.

The sun was orange through the glass panes that decorated the palace walls. Rainbows scattered across the palace floor, and fractals of light beamed at varying angles which made the golden thrones glimmer with radiance.

“My dear child,” your father smiled gently upon you, “I am glad to see you in good health.”

He was flanked by a line of his advisors on his left side, most of them old and feeble, except for one: a quiet ravenette with eyes which beheld endless pools of deep blue – Tomioka, you believed his name was.

Tomioka was quite handsome, yet always expressed disinterest in the matters discussed at these sorts of meetings – today, he decided to forgo usual etiquette by holding his head up by one of his fists, eyes taking in the grandeur of the throne room rather than being focused on you – as the rest of the advisors were.

“Father,” you curtseyed – forcing your eyes to pry away from the young advisor, “I reciprocate your sentiment. I am glad to see you well.”

He chuckled, “Your words are much appreciated, but I’m afraid they are not true. I have come down with sickness, and our lovely doctor here–” he waved towards his left, referring to a rather beautiful woman with dark hair and violet eyes who sat further away from the line of advisors, “–Lady Kocho, is doing her absolute best to treat me, but, it has made me realize a few things, namely how very brief our lives are on this earth, and–”

“Father, with all due respect, what have you summoned me for?” you asked, impatience seeping into your tone.

The king sighed, “I need you to be married, my dear child.”

“What?” you exclaimed, “no– I don’t want to. You cannot and will not force me to do such a thing.”

Your father sighed, “that is why, my dear, that we are going to be holding a masquerade ball on the next full moon – which, I believe, is five days from now. We have also decided that, due to time and the uncertainty of my sickness, you will be wed on the very next day.”

“What the hell is a ball going to do? Do you believe I’ll just suddenly meet the love of my life while dancing with a masked stranger?”

“That is not the objective, my dear, I wish for you to get to know the princes from nearby nations, and I believe a masquerade ball is perfect to learn personalities without any bias. Whomever you get along with most, as well as whoever I believe will be most fit as a king, will be the one whom you marry.”

“Well, I wish you luck in making me attend, because I refuse to entertain this idea you’ve thought up. You haven’t even given me a reason as to why I should plan to be married.”

There was tension amongst the members of the advisory council, with even Tomioka paying closer attention to your rather loud grievances.

You could almost feel his azure eyes boring into your soul.

“My dear child, even though I am your father, you must remember that I am also your King, and you will do well to remember that,” he said quietly.

“So, what? Are you going to have me thrown into the dungeons if I don’t comply?” You crossed your arms as you glared down at him. “You can’t possibly be serious–”

“That is not what I wish for, my child, but you must be responsible to your kingdom and do what I ask of you. One day, I will no longer be here, and you will need to step up and take the throne once that happens. This is the first step towards that end.”

“I don’t care about being responsible to the kingdom! They must bow to me anyway, the reason for their subservience is none of my concern.”

If you weren’t consumed by your fit of rage, you might have noticed that to your right, for a fraction of a second, the hue of the handsome ravenette’s eyes turned from a deep blue to a stormy purple.

“My child, you must learn that people do not bow blindly to the throne. They bow out of respect for a leader that makes decisions which keep them in mind.”

“They should respect me regardless. I’m their princess. That should be enough for them.”

You did not wait for your father to continue his lecture, as you stormed out of the throne room and marched back toward your chambers.

—

Upon entering your bedroom, a fireplace had already been lit – its crackling flames providing just enough heat for one’s slumber during a mid-winter night.

You sat down on the edge of your rather large bed – a mattress as soft as clouds, and sheets of the finest silk which was woven with royalty in mind. You kicked off your heels, scattering them halfway across your cozy living space – not caring to put them away properly – the help was there for such chores, anyway.

Your lady-in-waiting – you believed her name was Kanroji – knocked upon the carefully carved wooden doors of your chambers, before entering upon your command. She gave you a soft smile and curtseyed before you.

“It’s a wonderful evening, my princess, I hope today treated you well,” she greeted, and you gave out a loud sigh before flopping onto the mattress, a pout visible on your face as Kanroji picked up your discarded heels from the floor and placed them in their proper spot.

“Kanroji–” you elongated the last vowel of her name, “today was awful. Can you believe my dad possessed the gall to summon me today? And for what– to discuss marriage?” you groaned, “If I could, I would’ve wiped that everlasting smile off of his face for making me go through all of this!”

“My princess, that is no way to speak about your father, much less your king,” Kanroji lightly scolded you, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m sure his reasons are sound. I understand if you find the idea rather, well, uprooting I should say, but–”

“–But nothing!” you exclaimed, exasperation evident in your tone. “I don’t want to be responsible for the people, especially if it’s at the expense of my own losses!”

“Princess, with all due respect, they are your people,” Kanroji reminded you, “being a princess doesn’t exempt you from responsibilities.”

Rolling your eyes once more, you grumbled out a “whatever,” and sat up on your bed to face your lady-in-waiting.

“I’m sure that it was at least nice to speak with your father, no? Considering how busy he is and all?” Kanroji asked with a smile.

“Not really,” you groaned, “but I did get to see that one cute advisor he has, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

“Are you referring to Lord Tomioka, my princess?”

“Who else? The rest of them are old as shit– you think I’d fall for Urokodaki? Or – god forbid – Kuwajima?”

“A princess must not use such foul language, your highness,” Kanroji chided, “although I must say that I never expected you to fall for those…older men.”

You sighed in annoyance, “technically, I can do whatever I want, Lady Kanroji.”

“Unfortunately, Lord Tomioka is already married to the royal doctor, Lady Kocho,” Kanroji ignored the tone of your voice, “perhaps it would be wise to listen to King Ubayashiki’s words and look for a potential suitor at the next royal ball?”

“I doubt he has that much love for her,” you muttered, “perhaps I could pull Lord Tomioka aside during the festivities and–”

“Your highness, with all due respect, you will do no such thing,” Kanroji admonished you.

“But I’m the princess, Lady Kanroji, surely he’d see that as an opportunity for upward mobility, no?”

Kanroji sighed, deciding not to push the topic further. She motioned for you to stand up so she could undress you. You turned your back to her as she started untying the strands of your outer bodice, before removing it and working on the following layers to place them into a soiled linen basket.

“My princess will wash her face before heading to bed, we don’t want any bad air to ruin your perfect skin,” Kanroji urged as she helped you into your night slip.

“You don’t need to treat me like I’m five, Lady Kanroji. I know how to take care of myself.”

Kanroji schooled her expression from that of a tight-lipped smile to one with gentle radiance.

“Of course, your highness.”

You headed to your bathroom, but, rather than washing your face by yourself, you merely sat down on a cushioned chair beside the door. Kanroji followed, obtaining a washcloth made of the softest cotton and dipping it in water which she had warmed prior to your arrival. She dabbed at your face, removing any excess dirt or sweat which built up throughout the day, before lathering some soap into the cloth and gently applying it to your face, before rinsing it away with more water.

After she patted your face dry with another towel, she handed you your toothbrush and paste, and, after you had finished, provided you with water and a spit cup so you could rinse out your mouth.

“My princess seems to be all ready for bed now, let’s get you cozied up for the night.”

She led you back to your bedroom, and you buried yourself in warm blankets, choosing not to respond as she blew out one final candle and bid you a good night.

—

The following day, upon your wake, the birds outside of your window were surprisingly quiet. You’d quite often awake to the chirps of songbirds and hoots of mourning doves, which would rise you out of your restful sleep.

You stood up from your bed, and walked over to your wardrobe, excited to see if the maids had fully cycled your favorite dress through the laundry – one which had been inspired by your own confidence, merely amplifying everything desirable about your figure. It exemplified your wealth, your status; it brought you up into the clouds of materialism as others looked up at you in pure awe.

However, upon opening your wardrobe, you were shocked to find yourself looking at the wooden backing of the closet rather than your endless amounts of clothing that usually hung from the racks – something that you had not laid eyes upon ever since you first received the piece of furniture.

“Kanroji!” you yelled for your assistant, who, despite being summoned, still had the courtesy to knock upon your door before entering.

“Is something wrong, my princess?” she asked delicately as always, yet her honeyed lips did nothing to calm you down.

“You did this, didn’t you?” you accused her as you waved your hands haphazardly towards the empty wardrobe, “why do I not have any clothing to wear?”

Kanroji looked at you in pure confusion, before walking over and gazing upon what you were talking about. She sighed, “I didn’t do this, your highness, perhaps one of the maids went to wash all of your clothing and forgot to return it?”

“Why would they think to wash clothing which hasn’t been worn!?” you argued, “what should I do, then, if I don’t have anything to wear?”

Kanroji pondered for a moment, before seemingly coming to a solution.

“Well, my princess, if you would be so kind to take into consideration this idea I have, I may have a solution–”

“Just spit it out!”

Kanroji sighed, trying not to be taken aback by your rude behavior, “I believe we have extra clothing which is usually reserved for the royal staff. I could go fetch one for you if–”

“So I am to wear a servant’s clothes? To dress myself as a peasant?”

“No, my princess, the royal staff uniforms are hardly clothing meant for a commoner, they are still made of fine quality fabric and are sewn by the best seamstresses in the kingdom.”

You rolled your eyes, “fine, but only because there’s no other choice. Bring me the peasants’ clothing.”

Kanroji turned on her heel and left your room to fetch the uniform, leaving you to walk around your room in silence. After pacing around for a few minutes, you went up to your window, where a songbird had made its nest and laid its eggs.

You had asked time and time again for the staff to remove the nest, as it was partially obstructing the view of your garden, yet they hadn’t gotten around to it, it seemed.

However, today, the nest was completely empty – not a bird nor egg in sight.

“Princess, I’ve gathered a uniform set in your size,” Kanroji said behind you, prompting you to turn your head.

“Give it here.”

She handed you the folded clothing, and you held it out in front of you, inspecting it with expressive disgust.

“How am I supposed to put this on? It’s too frilly and complicated.”

“Allow me, your highness,” Kanroji muttered, before taking the uniform and having you step into it, buttoning it up and smoothing out the skirt.

“You look beautiful as always, my princess,” she smiled at you.

“I’d hardly say that,” you grumbled, “take me to my gardens, won’t you? I need some fresh air after this whole–” you waved your hands trying to find the right word, “–mess.”

Kanroji nodded, “of course, your highness.”

She led you through the winding corridors of the castle, and, as much as you preferred being the one leading, today you were almost hiding yourself behind your assistant – not wishing for anyone to look down upon you for the clothing you wore.

Yet, after a while, you realized that no one spared a second glance toward you. Not a single maid, nor servant, bothered to bow or greet you as you walked by. Easily offended by their lack of etiquette, you caught up with your lady-in-waiting, Kanroji, and whispered harshly into her ear.

“Why are they not greeting me? Usually they bow upon seeing or hearing me walk by. I have never seen such insubordination in my entire life–”

“My princess, it may be due to your clothing. You are wearing quite an unusual outfit for a royal today, and they are quite busy with setting up the decorations and such for the ball. I plead with you to be patient with them, your highness.”

You huffed, but remained silent after hearing her reasoning, your shoulders hunched in annoyance as Kanroji led you outside.

Your garden was one of the more peaceful areas of the palace. It was strategically placed so that you could view it from your bedroom window, a hectare of greenery reserved just for yourself. It caught the rays of sun through the early morning to late evening, with a rather beautiful fountain built in the very center of it made of marble, sculpted with three tiers that had water flow down into a rounded reservoir. The reservoir itself had sculptures sitting on the edges of the fountain – with one of the notable figures being that of Icarus.

Along the border of the garden, white and purple hydrangeas bloomed in the late morning sun, which gave way to various other floral species. It was all proper and organized, each plant having a designated area for it to flourish in. Walking further into the garden, you held out your hand to trace your fingers along the petals of buttercups, a flower which had always been one of your favorites – its delicate appearance attracting you to it.

You approached a small gazebo that found its place on the edge of the garden, a shaded area for you to use should you grow tired. Taking a seat, you exhaled slowly, recollecting yourself from the earlier mishap that was out of your control, almost entering a sort of meditative state. Your thoughts, however, wandered, and eventually led you to your fathers words of having you become married.

“Lady Kanroji?” you asked, and she smiled kindly at you – just as she always did. It was a rather comforting sight, to have someone so close that didn’t seem bothered by anything in the entire world.

“Yes, my princess?”

“Do you ever feel like…your life is out of your hands? Like you’re starting to lose control?” you asked, voice slightly uneasy as you turned your head away from her, deciding to rather admire flowers which neighbored the bench you sat on.

A bumblebee flew past you, its fat little body buzzing between flowers, working hard to pollinate each one.

“Well, yes, everyone does– but, what is making you feel this way, your highness?”

“I mean, look at this bee here– it probably thinks about nothing but how it needs to pollinate flowers and collect nectar for its hive – wherever that may be, right?”

“Of course, princess,”

The bee landed on a lone calendula, burying itself in pollen, before taking a quick moment to rest before flying off to another part of the garden.

“I wish my life was more like this bee. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything except the task in front of me.”

“Princess, is this about the clothes in your wardrobe being missing this morning?” Kanroji inquired.

You shook your head, “no, I’ve accepted that as a small mishap. I’m more worried about how my freedom might be taken away from me, with being married soon and all, especially to someone that I—”

“—that you know nothing about?” Kanroji finished for you.

You nodded, before eyeing a blooming foxglove plant, approaching it and plucking a single flower from its stem, twirling it in your hand as you admired its range of colors.

“I just wish that, at least, my last few days of freedom before this ball will be alright.”

Kanroji tentatively, ever so diligently following your every step, took your hand in hers, “I am wishing only the best for you, my princess. I promise that your husband will be as kind and as loving as can be.”

You smiled at her, still holding the foxglove in your hands, “thank you, Lady Kanroji.”

“–and if he’s not, then I promise to make his life a living hell,” she grinned, causing a hearty laugh to emerge from your chest.

“That hopefully won’t be necessary, but I thank you nonetheless.”

You looked down towards the ground, noticing that an invasive species of yellow tansy has taken root in the soil all throughout the garden.

Groaning, you looked up towards Kanroji once more, “do we not have a gardener to get rid of these weeds?” you asked exasperatedly, and she chuckled.

“Your highness, with all due respect, didn’t you fire them last week because they pruned your rose bush in a way that wasn’t to your liking?”

Sighing, you responded, “you’re right, we’ll need a new one soon, perhaps one of the servants would care for a promotion?”

“We’ll see about that, my princess. As for now, though, how about we get you washed up from being outside, and then after I’m sure we can have the royal chef make you one of your favorite meals for dinner later? As a little treat for all the anguish from today, perhaps?”

You smiled, “that sounds wonderful.”

—

You sat in the great hall of the castle, sampling hors d'oeuvres and sipping on champagne, chatting idly with your assistant at your own private table, watching waiters and waitresses move about through all the different tables, serving appetizers and samples of foods to both guests and royals alike.

Music played in the background from an entourage of pianists and violinists, who were playing some piece from Beethoven that you couldn’t recall the name of.

Feeling refreshed, you called over the waiter for yet another glass of champagne, motioning him to fill up Kanroji’s glass as well.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly–” Kanroji protested, to which you waved your hand in front of her.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “you work so hard. Just one glass? Please?”

She huffed in feigned annoyance, but relented as she let the waiter fill up her glass with the bubbly drink.

“You seem much happier now that the maids found one of your spare dresses in the dried laundry, don’t you?” Kanroji grinned.

You nodded, “I feel more beautiful this way. I really disliked that maid uniform. I felt so…inferior.”

“Clothing does not make a princess, you know,” she reminded you simply as you took another bite of food, and Kanroji grimaced as you opened your filled mouth to talk.

“I know. ‘M a princess regardless o’ wha’ ‘m wearin’,” you mumbled before swallowing, “you don’t need to remind me.”

Kanroji sighed as you so easily missed the point she was trying to make, watching as you waved for the waiter to come by, ready to order your meal.

“What should I have prepared for you this flashy evening, your highness?” he asked.

The man before you was tall and muscular, with white hair that fell down his shoulders and crimson eyes that reminded you of rubies. He took out a notepad to write down your orders when you realized his left hand proudly displayed three golden bands which were embedded with diamonds, each one on a separate finger.

You could hardly believe he was just a mere waiter for the castle.

With his looks, you believed he could be doing much better.

“Would it be so bad if I said ‘you’?” you smiled lazily at him, causing him to chuckle at your statement.

“Unfortunately, my princess, I am a happily married man,” he said, pointing to the three rings, “although I wouldn’t be opposed to adding a fourth wife to the family.”

Your nose crinkled in disgust – not because he had multiple wives, no – but because you disliked the idea of having to share him with others.

What belonged to the princess should belong to her alone.

“I’ll pass,” you forced out, “I would, however, like to request the foie gras for my meal tonight, if you could you put that in for me — and, perhaps, a side of toasted baguette with caviar spread will do.”

“Ah, my princess, as much as we are happy to make anything you desire, I must regretfully inform you that we do not have any foie gras for tonight.”

Your blood pressure started to rise. Putting on a fake smile, which was more akin to that of a grimace, you asked, “and what may be the reason for the kitchen being unprepared to take my order?”

“Your highness, I promise that it is not the kitchen’s fault. A strange occurrence, and a most un-flashy one, really – our local farmers have reported that every single one of their animals have escaped, and what’s more- they can’t be found anywhere within the borders of the kingdom.”

You thought back to the morning, when you made note of the usual songbirds outside of your window being absent.

“Do you not have any duck meat preserved?” you asked.

“No, your highness. We hunt the very same day that we prepare the meals so that they’re fresh. Which is why–”

“Which is why you’re supposedly unable to adhere to my request. I heard you the first time. No need to repeat yourself,” you huffed. “If you don’t have any meat, then what do you have?”

Just as the waiter was about to open his mouth, you held up your hand to stop him, “Never mind. Just get me a salad. Now leave us,” you glared at him, disdain heavy in your tone.

“Of course, princess.”

You rolled your eyes as he sauntered away, and Kanroji stared at you with a slight frown on her face.

“What is it?” you asked, taking her hand and holding it.

Kanroji tensed, but allowed her hand to stay rested on yours.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” she started, “I hope that you can be more patient with them, though, they are doing their best to serve you.”

You sighed, “whatever.”

You looked down at her hand, at which point a frown crossed your face.

“Lady Kanroji, since when did you have such an awful scar?”

Looking back up at her, she seemed slightly alarmed, taking her hand away from yours.

“What are you talking about, princess?” She looked down at her own hand, inspecting it as though she didn’t realize she had such a blemish.

“That scar– I don’t know why I only just noticed it, but–” you paused as she showed you her hand once more.

Her hand was flawless.

“You may have had too much to drink, princess, should I escort you back to your room?”

You looked at your assistant in utter confusion, “but–”

“I highly doubt it was anything more than a trick of the light,” she smiled reassuringly. “Let’s get you to your chambers now, alright princess?”

—

You awoke to the pounding of fists against your door, jolting up from your bed.

“Princess! Please open the door!” one of the royal guards shouted from outside your chambers.

Groggily, you walked up and opened it, to find the guard in what seemed to be a slightly confused panic.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ll have to come down to the royal gardens with me, princess, there’s something that was…er– left for you.”

In a huff, you followed his instructions, the guard following closely behind you, winding through corridors and staircases until you reached the outside, where a small crowd consisting mostly of royal staff could be seen huddling around something, exchanging whispers and gasps that were unintelligible.

“What in the hell did you raise me out of my bed for that needed my immediate attention?” you yelled back at the guard, who was only a few paces behind you, “forcing me to go outside while looking this indecent better have a good explanation.”

You pushed your way through the crowd, only to stop short as you gazed at what was before you: a dead cow, one that seemed to be entirely gutted, with its entrails scattered about around its body.

The same guard walked up to you, tapping you on the shoulder before handing you a scroll, “this was laid beside the mauled animal,” he explained.

You unraveled it, only to read something that made you feel rather faint.

Here’s that meat you missed so dearly last night, princess.

You could almost laugh, if it weren’t for how absolutely no one could’ve heard about this conversation besides Lady Kanroji and the waiter himself.

Perhaps he notified the chef and one of the kitchen staff got upset? But that wouldn’t explain how they got the cow in the first place if all the animals are all–

“Princess?”

You looked up at the guard, who’s purple eyes seemed to be glimmering in the light of the morning sun.

“What is it?”

The guard frowned – at what, you couldn’t possibly tell – before he shook his head and walked back toward the castle.

Just as you were about to question him, Lady Kanroji came running out from the palace doors and stopped before you.

“Oh, my princess! I’m so glad you’re alright!” she wailed, seemingly disturbed by the events of this morning.

“I’m fine, but I’ll need each and every one of the kitchen staff that was working last night to be interrogated.”

Kanroji seemed confused, but nodded, deciding not to question your reasoning.

“In the meantime, your highness, would you like to visit your garden again? I know that it tends to calm you down quite a bit and right now you seem quite…frazzled.”

—

“Lady Kanroji, how quickly do flowers usually grow?”

“Your highness, at this point, I have no idea.”

She looked just as confused as you were – gazing upon your garden, which looked entirely different from what it looked like yesterday. Rather than hydrangeas and the occasional foxglove bush blooming, the entire garden had been infested with snapdragons.

“I was here just yesterday, was I not?” you asked rhetorically, and Kanroji nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, you were, my princess.”

You sighed, “I don’t understand – all I wanted was a few peaceful days before I am forced into an arranged marriage. Am I not allowed something as simple as that?”

“Many are not afforded things that may seem simple to others, my princess, perhaps this is how the universe so ordained these few days to unfold.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about my circumstances, though.”

“Perhaps not, but we can always do our best to make the most of what we are dealt, even if the hand we are given is not the best.”

You listened to her as you looked around the garden, seeing how endless the lines of snapdragon flowers seemed to be, and, in a moment of firm resolve, you lifted up the bottom of your slip before setting your feet bare into the soil.

“What are you doing, your highness? You will dirty your clothing if you–”

“I’m making the most of the hand I’ve been dealt, Lady Kanroji,” you explained, before beginning to weed out the unwanted snapdragon flowers from their roots.

Kanroji smiled, before following suit and helping you in your task, ridding the garden of unwanted plants to restore it to its former glory.

—

It felt like hours since you first arrived to your garden, your night slip entirely dirtied, and your hands caked with soil. The sun beat down on both of you, causing sweat to drip down your face as you smeared it away with your dirtied hands.

A crow flew down and landed in the garden next to you, poking its beak at the bundle of snapdragons that you’d picked out of the soil, you waved at it in order to shoo it away – but to no avail.

“I thought that there were no fauna left in the kingdom,” you mused, and Kanroji giggled softly.

“Apparently this little one didn’t quite catch the memo,” she smiled, causing you to chuckle.

However, another crow flew down a few minutes later, and then another – until there was nearly a flock of crows that surrounded each of you.

“Lady Kanroji–?” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you looked around, with what seemed to be every single crow staring directly at you, as though you were nothing but prey to them.

It started off with one crow – which flew toward you and started picking at your night slip with its beak. You tried shooing it off, but doing so only invited another crow, and another, and another to do the same.

“Stop! What– stop!” you screamed as the crows continued tearing at your slip, leaving holes and cuts all throughout the thin cloth. You knelt to the ground, curling yourself into a tight ball as the crows hovered closely above you.

Until finally, the torment ceased.

Standing up, you looked around to see them flying away, before looking back at your assistant who seemed absolutely horrified by what just occurred.

“Your highness–”

“Don’t. Say. A word,” you seethed, tears starting to brim your eyes before you rushed back to your chambers, Kanroji following closely behind you.

—

Sanemi’s POV

A yell of frustration could be heard from your chambers, causing a silent snicker to pass through his lips.

He couldn’t help that he loved messing with you: you were the perfect prey for someone like him. Someone in a place of authority who needed to be knocked down a few pegs; a bratty princess who wanted everything to go her way – regardless of if it hurt those around her or not.

Not only that, but the noises you made were music to his ears – how you’d groan and grumble and scream – all because of him.

He was the one who was causing you all this grief.

And he loved it.

Unfortunately, it seemed that missing clothes and cooking ingredients were just not enough to make you absolutely lose your sense of control.

“Kanroji!” you yelled from your chambers, causing his ears to perk up. You always had your poor assistant help you out, he realized, it was only ever a matter of time before her name could be heard from your lips.

It pissed him off, really, that assistant of yours – she would always be there to step in and help you, no matter how terrible your behavior was.

However, it seemed today that your assistant was nowhere to be found, and so he had the privilege of reveling in your annoyed grumbles for that much longer.

After what seemed to be about half of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.

He decided that your expression must’ve been priceless, so he took the shape of a female guard and walked down towards your chamber doors.

However, he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling agape upon seeing you.

Your dress – which he intentionally shrunk down a size, caused your tits to spill out from the top of it. Not only that, but your skirt only went down to your mid-thigh, and he could only imagine what a sight it would be if you bent over to pick something up.

He was frozen – he hated you, hated authority. He despised how you thought that you were simply better than everyone else – that it was somehow your birthright to be above everyone else.

So, why was he awestruck by the sudden beauty that was before him?

You turned your head to him – or, the female guard that he was disguised as – and gave him a nasty glare.

“The hell are you looking at?” you asked.

If there were a higher power, Sanemi would’ve thanked them a hundred times over for the fact that his shapeshifting ability could hide the hardening bulge in his pants.

After a moment, he managed to find his voice – and thankfully he remembered to make it fit the character he was playing as.

“Apologies, princess, did you need help with anything?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed before marching away from him, and he couldn’t help but smirk as your figure turned down another long corridor.

Out of all the people he’s fucked with, you were definitely his favorite.

—

“Shit, princess, got me so fuckin’ worked up over nothing, didn’t ya?” Sanemi muttered under his breath as he fisted his stiff cock, not even bothering to start slowly as he fucked his hand with each unrelenting stroke.

The precum seeped out from his tip, allowing his hand to glide even faster along his thick length; he was harsh with it, the muscles in his forearm nearly burning at the pace of his movements.

Sanemi snuck into your room after you left – having now memorized your daily schedule, he didn’t need to worry about you catching him in the act. It would be at least an hour before you returned to your chambers, giving him plenty of time to cum before then.

He laid upon your bed – the mattress softer than anything he ever had the luxury of experiencing before – as he stroked himself to the thought of ruining you.

He wondered if the plush of your skin would be even softer.

Gods, how he would love to trace his roughened hands along your delicate body, squeezing your tits, groping your ass.

You could stand to have a bit of punishment too, he thought before envisioning how he’d have you on your hands and knees, smacking your ass until it was red and sore.

Or maybe humiliation would be better?

He groaned as he thrust up into his hand as he thought of all the ways he could ruin your status, humiliating you in front of hundreds – no, thousands – of your subjects.

Maybe he could take it a step further than he usually would this time – oh, how he’d love to ruin you until you were nothing more than a needy slut for his cock.

“Fuck–” he grunted, before turning his head to the side, where he eyed a pair of your discarded panties in the corner of your room.

“Fuckin’ brat never learns to clean up after herself,” he muttered, climbing out of your bed to go pick them up.

Lucky me, he thought, bringing your panties up to his nose and inhaling deeply, his knees nearly buckling.

Somehow, the head of his cock turned an even angrier shade of red after breathing in your scent, with his length getting so stiff that it almost hurt.

“Fuck– princess,” he groaned, “smell so fuckin’ good,” he added, walking back to your bed before inhaling more of your musk, hips bucking involuntarily into his hand – his cock getting impossibly harder as he fucked himself to the thought of you.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum like this, you fuckin’ brat.”

His abdomen tensed as his seed shot out from his reddened tip, spilling it all over his hand and lower stomach. He hissed as he continued to stroke himself through his orgasm before pulling his hand back and letting it fall against the mattress, panting heavily.

“Are you sure you don’t have any spare clothes that fit, my princess?”

Sanemi’s eyes shot open, hearing your assistant’s voice from outside the door.

“Yes, I checked every single one and they’re all too tight! I’ve had difficulty breathing all morning because of this stupid outfit!”

You shouldn’t be back yet, he thought, but then again he did disrupt your morning for the third time this week – perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised.

He shot up from your bed, quickly stripping it as well as gathering any dirty clothing you had lying around before transforming himself into a maid.

The door opened, and Sanemi had to hold back a grin when he saw how frustrated you were, his cock starting to harden once more upon seeing your face contorted into a pout.

“Why are you here?” you asked him, before your assistant put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Leave her be, my princess, she’s just doing her job.”

Sanemi nodded to her and took the linen that he had gathered out of your chambers, leaving you and your assistant alone for the time being.

By the time he was out of sight, he snapped his fingers – causing the linen to disappear completely.

It’s not like you’d care about missing some bedsheets for a while, right?

—

Y/N’s POV

You awoke the next day to the smell of smoke.

You weren’t able to sleep much anyway — namely due to being limited to a simple blanket as you laid on your bare mattress — all because the maid who took your sheets didn’t bother to communicate with anyone else that your bed would need to be made before you retired for the night.

After dipping in and out of sleep, tossing and turning in your freezing room, the sun had finally started to rise, and, although you usually never awoke before it was at least halfway up in the sky, today your sense of grogginess was replaced by complete alarm.

Was the castle burning?

You ran to the doors of your chamber, your already too-tight night slip nearly causing you to trip as you reached for its handle.

Cold.

You slowly opened the door, and the absence of flames relieved you.

Only thinking of yourself, you carefully made your way down staircases and through corridors – the smoke only becoming more intense the further down you went.

Perhaps a kitchen fire?

Yet, as you found your way to the castle entrance, you started to realize that the smoke had been coming from outside rather than in the castle.

Careful to not show your face through any windows – in order to protect yourself from being targeted by any potential enemies or rioters outside – you listened for voices and yelling to determine if the castle was under siege.

But, other than the distant crackling of flames, the night was silent.

Exhaling your fear, you gained enough courage to peek through one of the windows. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you thought to go outside so you could locate the source of the smoke.

The castle door creaked open, and a plume of smoke entered through the doorway, resulting in a series of coughs which erupted from your throat. The grass you were on was dry as you walked further, the blades poking at the soles of your feet with each step.

You saw the orange glow of the flames in the distance, and, by the time you got close enough to see what was burning, your blood ran cold.

Your garden.

The entire area had been engulfed in flames – the plants reduced to cinders and ash.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you watched the only place you felt true peace burn to the ground, the fire growing in size until reaching a crescendo of roaring crackles as it burned every remaining piece of your soul, unrelenting until the fire decided to quell itself, returning the borrowed flames to the sun as it rose above the horizon.

Until what remained was nothing but char and dirt.

You sat there for what felt like hours, sitting silently as your eyes reddened – from the smoke or from crying, one wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Your highness…” you heard a soft voice behind you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around.

The gentle, reassuring hand of your lady-in-waiting laid upon your shoulder once more – just as it had many times this past week. It was her way of consoling you, no matter how horrible things were.

“I’m so sorry,” was all she could offer, squeezing your shoulder as you gazed upon your garden – or what was left of it – in silence.

“Thank you, Mitsuri – but this isn’t your fault.”

Your friend sat down beside you, rubbing your back as you two watched the remaining embers flicker in and out of existence.

Until there was nothing else left for you to have.

—

Sanemi’s POV

Sanemi was smug – surely a fire would get your attention, would it not?

It was his last resort, but you had just been so awfully bratty and hostile to those around you.

He couldn’t just stand by the sidelines and let that happen, right?

The afternoon was eerily quiet, he hadn’t heard you yell for your assistant once today. Once you got back from your silly little playground, you locked yourself up in your room, not opening up for anyone.

So, that evening, he took on the form of that one maid again, and stole a skeleton key from one of the royal staff.

“Princess? May I come in?” He knocked on your door, and, after hearing no response, decided to unlock it, knocking once more as he entered.

You were sitting on your bed, staring into nothing, your hands lay silent in your lap.

“Princess?”

“What do you want?” you nearly whispered, as though the room around you might shatter into pieces should you speak any louder.

“Er–” Sanemi quickly skimmed through your daily schedule – something he had memorized every detail of – in order to come up with some excuse for interrupting your time alone.

However, he did not have time to answer, as you stood up and held your arms out from your sides – your expression flat and emotionless as your eyes remained fixed on the ground before you.

“Apologies, that was a stupid question,” you continued, your tone almost dejected before looking up at the maid before you, “It’s time for my bath, isn’t that right?”

“Yes– yes, princess, of course,” Sanemi stuttered.

You simply stared, before speaking up, “well? Are you going to undress me or not?”

Sanemi’s ears flushed a bright red, but did indeed walk behind you – not wishing to reveal himself as an imposter by acting strange – and started to lift up your night slip, the very one you hadn’t changed out of since last night.

You smelled of burning ash, which wasn’t much of a surprise to him – but he didn’t expect you to withstand the smoke for so long, just to stare at the flames that he created.

He removed your night slip, using all of his willpower to not stare down at you while you were indecent.

“Take me to my bath, please,” you requested silently, and, to much of his surprise, he obeyed without a second thought.

He took your hand, leading you to your bathroom, where he simultaneously filled up your tub with warm water with the slight wave of his hand – as though it had been prepared for you all along, as though he knew this would be what he was getting into as he entered your room – your home.

You sat down in the clear water, ash ebbing off of you in ripples as water gently sloshed around you. He reached for a nearby cloth, and lathered it in soap, before rubbing it up and down your back, bubbles forming with each swipe of the cloth.

You remained oddly silent, letting him wash you as he pleased – of course, you didn’t know it was him.

He doubted you’d let him be within ten feet of you if he wasn’t acting as someone else.

Yet, when he went to clean your shoulders, he placed his false, dainty hand upon your shoulder, and you sniffled.

You were crying.

“Princess?” he asked cautiously.

You brought your hands up to your face, hiding yourself from the maid that washed you.

“What is happening to me?” you sobbed silently, breaths shaky as you inhaled, “My last few days have been horrible, and today was just— my garden is gone.”

Normally, Sanemi would feel a spark of pride upon hearing that he got under his victim’s skin, but now, he felt nothing but pure guilt.

Had he gone too far?

“Perhaps I’ve been cursed,” you whispered, “all I wanted was to live my last few days before I'm married in peace. I’m to be wed to someone that I don’t know the first thing about, to be silent and obedient, adhering to my husband’s every wish.”

He remained silent, unsure of what to say – he had been the cause of your suffering, at least in the short-term. This marriage of yours seemed unavoidable, something you’d have to endure for god knows how long.

He turned your face by your chin, gently pressing the washcloth to your cheeks, wiping away soot and tears with a few simple strokes.

“I don’t even know what I did wrong, it all feels so– so unjust,” you confessed.

Had Sanemi not had centuries upon centuries to learn keeping up facades, he would have given himself away right then and there. In a mere second, you managed to replace the guilt that festered within his heart with pure rage.

How blind were you?

He said nothing as he finished washing you up, being careful to not scrub harshly at your skin despite his anger and hatred, and then toweled you up by the time he had finished.

“Good night, princess,” he uttered before leaving you to dry yourself, resolving to not take a single glance back as you looked at him – or, looked at the maid – in pure confusion and hurt.

—

Y/N’s POV

“My princess,” Mitsuri whispered as she woke you up, “you slept for so long – it’s about time to get ready for the ball tonight.”

Your eyes shot open, anxiety spiking in your chest, “already?”

Mitsuri nodded, eyes softening in concern for you.

Fuck.

Mitsuri brought in a champagne colored dress which had been specially designed for you – taking all of your measurements into consideration, as well as a white mask with gold lining, and white feathers which were reminiscent of a swan.

Mitsuri helped lace up the dress, which, unlike the rest of your outfits, thankfully fit quite well. She then placed the mask on your face, before taking your hand and gently leading you down to the great hall – where the festivities would soon begin.

Upon opening the doors, it became difficult to breathe, with people clustered together, voices clashing together as conversations carried through the hall. There was some dancing, yet those who were taking their chances on the ballroom floor seemed rather clumsy and uncoordinated in their steps, while those who were on the sidelines speaking with relatives and strangers alike sampled foods from trays that disappeared and reappeared along with the waiters that weaved haphazardly through the hall.

You walked toward the front of the room, picking up your dress so as to not trip on the ornate staircase which led up to where your father – and King – waited for you.

“You look quite beautiful, my child, I hope you will be able to enjoy tonight’s celebrations,” he beamed, and you nodded in response.

“Are there any plans you have for me, father?”

“I do have a few princes I’d like for you to meet – namely those from the Agatsuma, Iguro, and Rengoku bloodlines. They all show promise – perhaps some more than others – of being benevolent rulers.”

As though prompted, a blonde man walked up the stairs toward you and your father, his hand shaky as he extended it toward you. Otherwise, there were no particular qualities of his that stood out to you. You looked at him expectantly, awaiting some sort of introduction.

“Y-your highness! May– may I please have your first dance of the night?” the man before you sputtered, and it took everything within you to properly school your expression so that your father wouldn’t scold you for poor behavior.

“May I know who I have the pleasure of dancing with?” you managed to ask the blonde, who seemed as though he would keel over and faint at just about any moment.

“Oh– I’m Zenitsu Agastuma, sorry–” he introduced himself, bowing before you.

Reluctantly, you curtseyed back, before placing your hand in his, grimacing at the clamminess of his skin.

He placed his other hand on top of yours, “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret this!”

He took you down to the floor, muttering brief apologies to every person you two passed by. By the time you two the center of the great hall, he took one of your hands and placed it on his left shoulder blade, before taking his right hand in your left.

“Are you expecting me to lead?” you asked, and his face went bright red.

“If that’s alright with you, my lovely princess, and– if we could just do a simple box step, perhaps? I– I’m not too good with dancing,” he said sheepishly.

You sighed, deciding to take the lead in a box step, with him following each of your movements, until he tripped over your shoes.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he exclaimed, obviously nervous, his movements short and jittery with each subsequent step.

You sighed, but then he tripped over your feet again, and again, muttering out apology after apology each time.

By the time the song had finished, you’d had enough of him and walked him off of the dance floor.

“Wait– please! Give me another chance! I– I promise I’d be a good husband, please!” he babbled, tears flowing down past his mask and down his cheeks. You forced him off of you, shaking your hand so he’d let go.

You went to sit down next to your father, who seemed to be chuckling in amusement.

“Are you laughing at me, father?” you asked, your tone tense after what humiliation the blonde had caused you in front of your subjects.

“No, no– I promise I’m not,” he smiled, before summoning the next prince that he’d mentioned – a rather short man with black hair. Through his mask, you could see that his eyes were quite beautiful – being two separate colors.

Yet, his eyes were elsewhere, staring longingly at your friend, Mitsuri, rather than you.

“Erm– hello, may I ask for your name?” you asked the man.

“Hmm? I’m not interested,” he said curtly, “I decline the opportunity to dance with you, princess.”

Your mouth hung open, absolutely offended by the man before you.

“Are you absolutely sure, Prince Iguro?” your father questioned, and the prince nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, please honor my choice, your highness.”

Your father sighed, dismissing him and the prince quickly found his way to Mitsuri, who started blushing up a storm as soon as he started speaking with her.

At least one of us will have a chance at finding love tonight, you thought.

The last prince whom your father mentioned was summoned next, a young man who seemed rather jovial and filled with vigor, with hair that resembled that of flames themselves and eyes that were reminiscent of crackling embers.

“Your highness, would you be so kind and allow me to dance with you?” he smiled, a grin that was infectious as it caused you to return your own.

“Of course,” you happily responded.

He took your hand, kissing your knuckles before leading you back to the center of the ballroom, placing a hand on your left shoulder and leading you into the dance.

“I hope that this evening has fared well for you so far, my dear princess,” he said, twirling you around.

It was comforting – he was comforting. He provided you with air where you felt you could not breathe.

“It is going much better now that I am here with you, dear prince,” you smiled, “may I ask for your name?”

“Kyojuro Rengoku,” he answered, before leaning you into a dip and bringing you back upright, guiding you into another step, and another.

He was incredibly smooth with his movements – all until a waiter accidentally bumped into him, spilling wine down the back of his suit.

“My prince! I’m so, so sorry–” the waiter apologized, trying to clean up his suit with a spare cloth.

Kyojuro simply laughed it off, “it’s quite alright, dear waiter,” before turning to you, whispering “I’ll go get changed, and then I’ll be back for you, alright, my dear princess?”

You felt a warmth creep up your cheeks before nodding, seeing him give you a quick wink before he was off.

Your observing of the kind prince was interrupted by a gentle touch to your shoulder. Thinking it was Mitsuri, you turned around with a smile on your face, which quickly faded into one of confusion upon seeing the person in front of you.

“Hello, princess, may I have your next dance?”

The man before you was about as tall as Kyojuro, with white hair that seemed untamable. A man who displayed scars in every place of exposed skin, his raven mask unable to fully conceal the ones on his face.

Perhaps he was a royal knight of some sort?

“And who are you, may I ask?” you inquired, and a small smirk stretched along his lips.

“Sanemi, dear princess, my name is Sanemi.”

He extended his hand, which you observed had a similar scar to the one you thought Mitsuri had just a few nights ago.

Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his – immediately noting the warmth and roughness of his skin – as though he’d spent years working with them. His grip was firm, but not harsh – indicating knowledge of his own strength.

His right hand slid down to the small of your back, finding its purchase just above your hip – not daring to go lower. He led you into a similar waltz that Kyojuro placed you in, yet, this one somehow felt more…intimate.

“Sanemi,” you started, rolling his name along the tip of your tongue, “do you not possess a last name? Or are you perhaps a scoundrel with a tarnished reputation?” you teased, each step between the two of you smooth, almost calculated as he led you through the ballroom.

“Do you believe you have earned my last name, princess?” he whispered hotly, to which you felt heat prickle along your face.

He chuckled, “apparently not. But–” he led you into a quick spin, before pulling you close once more, “if you get to know me well enough, perhaps I’d be so willing to indulge in your curiosity.”

“Get to know you? Is that supposed to be some sort of challenge?”

“If that is how you perceive it,” he responded vaguely.

Curious, you were – the man before you hauntingly beautiful, the smoothness of his voice and his mystery, combined with his confidence made it difficult to believe he wasn’t of royal blood..

He’d definitely be fit as a King, you thought.

“What, may I ask, is your occupation then, Sanemi?” you asked, wishing to glean more information from the masked man.

“I’ve done quite a few things in my life, and I’d say that I'm competent in all that I do, princess.”

“A jack of all trades is a master of none, you should know,” you challenged.

“Ah, but oftentimes better than a master of one,” he continued, leaning closely into you, his breath gracing your ear, “and trust me darling, I’m a master of all of my works.”

Your face heated up at his claim, thanking the fact that he’d led you into a spin, so you could somewhat hide your embarrassment.

“Is that so? Then I think you’d have to show me one day, Sanemi.”

“Who’s to say that I haven’t already?” he avowed, his violet eyes sparkling behind his mask with knowledge unknown to you.

“What do you mean?” you inquired, side-stepping before he leaned you into a dip, his eyes looking directly into yours as he leaned closely into you.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, dear princess, I promise you’ll find out soon enough.”

As he brought you back upright, he parted from you, before taking your hand and kissing your knuckles – just as the prince before him did.

With his other hand, seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out an orange lily, and placed it into the hand that he kissed.

“I found this growing on the outskirts of your garden just yesterday. Such a shame the beautiful thing burned down.”

Speechless, you took the lily from him.

“Your condolences are appreciated.” You brought the lily up to your nose to take in its scent, before smiling at him and curtseying. “Thank you for the flower, and the dance, Sanemi, I’ll do well to remember you.”

—

“Father, please, I implore you to tell me who you have decided upon,” you begged, having waited impatiently until a majority of guests had exited the palace and gone home. Maids and servants proceeded with cleaning up the hall quickly after most of the festivities died down, and by now, most tables had chairs overturned on top of them, and mops could be found in use scattered throughout the ballroom floor.

“My dear child, I am not able to give you an answer as you so wish. My advisors and I will need to convene and discuss our thoughts on what marriage would prove best for our kingdom.”

“Well, if you’d let me, I’d hope that you’d keep in mind that prince from the Ren–”

“My dear, as much as I’d love to take into consideration your opinion, this is a matter of kingdom survival, and thus my advisor’s opinions will have much more weight than my own child’s.”

Your mouth fell slightly agape, “but, didn’t you promise that you’d take into consideration the prince I got along most kindly with?”

“I did, my dear, but I have decided to rescind that statement. After your rather childish tantrum you displayed in front of me and my advisors, I came to the realization that you are not mature enough to make decisions that take more than just yourself into consideration.”

“But–”

“Child, indeed it is a most regrettable decision, but if I am to keep the kingdom’s interests in mind, then I will do what I believe is best.”

Tears of anger brimmed in your eyes as you once again stormed away from your father, exiting through the rather large doors at the end of the great hall and marching through them. You raced toward your chambers, where you wished to sob into your pillow until the morning came.

“Your father is right, you know,” a low voice spoke from one of the more darkened corridors as you passed by, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

Looking around, you saw no one – you were alone, and yet, somewhere, someone was speaking to you.

Not only that, but they’d also listened in on the conversation you’d had with your father.

You peeked down one corridor, trying to make out a figure in the shadows, when you were suddenly pushed into the stone wall, a hand reaching around your mouth as a body held you in place.

“Don’t. Scream.”

A muffled cry came out of your throat, which prompted the assailant to point a cold, metal blade to your throat.

“The hell did I just fuckin’ tell you, sweetheart?”

Your breathing became rapid, panic ensuing as the knife trailed down your throat – just gentle enough so as to not draw any blood.

“Y’know, princess, I’ve been tryin’ to get you to see your wrongdoings this entire fuckin’ week,” the stranger started, “but you just don’t fuckin’ learn, do ya?”

Your eyes widened as you realized this person had been responsible for everything.

Including your garden.

In a fit of rage, you tried biting your assailant's hand, to which he simply moved it to constrict lightly around your throat.

“Oho–! Do we have a biter here, sweet thing? And to think that I always thought your bark was worse…”

“You bastard, let me go! I’ll have your fuckin’ head for this!”

“Oh sweetheart, you’ll definitely have my head, but not in the way you seem to think. Y’see, I’ve been tryin’ so fuckin’ hard to get you to understand how pretentious you are, how much of a snob you are, and, frankly, I’ve run out of ideas, princess.”

He turned your face towards him, making you realize it was the same person who’d danced with you at the ball – the man with the scars, the white, unruly hair, and his strikingly violet eyes.

“Sanemi?” you asked, even though in your heart you knew it was him.

Sanemi grinned, “ah, so you do have a brain up there in that pretty little head of yours,” he sneered at you, “then maybe this last little lesson I give you will be the one that finally sticks.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you hissed, and Sanemi chuckled as you struggled against him.

“Oh, princess, have you not realized what I’m gonna do yet?” he cooed mockingly, “I’m gonna fuck the brattiness out of you, sweetheart.”

A small gasp left your lips at his assertion, yet, you couldn’t help the feeling of heat spreading both across your cheeks, as well as the kindling of flames within your lower stomach.

You were to be forcefully married, to live a life of servitude to your husband – who will be pronounced King once your father passes, to endure a loveless marriage – with tolerance of your significant other being the most you could possibly hope for.

You could have a little fun before all that, couldn’t you?

Sanemi darkly chucked behind you, “I can smell your arousal, sweet thing, you really do want this, don’t ya?”

The man threw the knife to the ground before licking a stripe up your neck and leaving bites across the expanse of your skin, starting with your earlobe and working his way down to your shoulder, teeth sharp as they grazed along your body.

You shivered, embarrassment flooding your veins at how you reacted to his touch – you shouldn’t want this, you were a princess, a proper lady who knew that doing such acts before marriage was scandalous.

But, did you truly care about your marriage?

With each brush of his roughened hands against your skin, the consequences that threatened your wishes of this continuing faded further and further.

Sanemi worked his hands to the center of your back, his fingers deftly untying the lace of your dress – as though he had experience in such skills before this.

“Such a fuckin’ slut, wishing for me to take you before you’re married – what would your father think?” he asked mockingly as he pushed your dress down, revealing your breasts to him.

“Oh– that’s right, you don’t care much of what he– or anyone– thinks, do you?” he answered his own question, before leaning down and pursing his lips around one of your nipples, sucking harshly at your tits, earning a soft gasp from you as your face contorted at the sensation. His tongue laved against the softness of your skin, before biting down – making you let out a sharp hiss before bringing your hand up to his hair and tugging at it.

He looked up at you, hate and lust evident in his eyes as he pulled off of you with a lewd pop, and, just before you thought he would move on to the other tit and perform the same actions, he instead raised his hand and gave a sudden, hard slap to your breast.

“Ah–!” you gasped, evoking a laugh from him.

“Oh, do you like pain, brat?” he taunted, causing you to flush intensely across your cheeks as he landed another slap to your other tit, to which you let out another, shorter gasp from you.

“Answer the question, slut.”

Whimpering, you slowly nodded, and he grinned before roughly grabbing at your tits, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.

“Then get on your knees f’ me.”

You looked at him as though he were crazy, but, with one last slap to your tits, you quickly complied, lowering yourself to the ground.

“Isn’t this a sweet sight?” Sanemi chuckled, “a princess kneeling before someone else – how cute.”

Humiliation seeped into your veins as you looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes with your own, until he forced your chin up, and– after a small wave of his hand, you felt someone else pushing you down onto all fours. Flinching at the contact, you quickly turned your head around to see another Sanemi staring back at you – fully naked and littered with scars.

“What–” you started, before the second Sanemi started to rip your dress off of you – ruining it beyond repair.

“Oh, are you surprised, princess?” the original Sanemi asked, “how did you think all of the shit that happened to you this past week came about?”

Before you could answer, a rough smack landed on your ass, the strength of it causing you to be pushed forward as you whined at the stinging pain that Sanemi’s hand left behind.

“That’s one, brat, I think you could stand to handle a bit more, can’t you?” the Sanemi in front of you decided before taking his cock out of his pants as the one behind you dealt a smack to your other asscheek. He started stroking his cock with his fist as his double continued his assault behind you.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet already,” muttered the one behind you, as you felt two fingers dip in between your folds – collecting your slick before landing another blow, “such a goddamn whore, aren’t ya? And all from being spanked? You’re fuckin’ filthy, princess.”

Smack!

Tears were starting to escape your eyes – your ass starting to feel raw from the constant blows. The tears found their way down your cheeks before the Sanemi in front of you lifted your chin up with one hand, stroking his cock furiously with the other as he groaned at the sight in front of him.

“Fuck– I’ve wanted to ruin you all week, princess, make you nothing more than a whore for my cock – to turn you into a braindead fucktoy all for my pleasure.”

You whined at his confession, leaning forward a little in an attempt to catch his lips with yours before he pulled away from you, leaving you feeling unfulfilled before his clone landed a harsh slap to your pussy – causing you to yelp as the clone started to prod his fingers at your entrance.

“Please, more,” you begged.

“Hmmm, I don’t think you deserve more, princess,” Sanemi smirked, before closing the distance between you and his cock – the tip of which blushing a deep red as precum seeped out from it.

“Be a good girl for once and earn your pleasure.”

You hesitantly looked up at him, before reaching out your hand and delicately wrapping it around his thick cock. Sanemi hissed, not fully expecting how soft and plush your hand would feel when wrapped around him.

Starting out with some slow, gentle strokes, Sanemi started bucking slightly into your hand – not used to how languid and soft your movements were. You traced your thumb over his leaking slit, gathering his precum before moving back down his length.

The clone behind you finally pushed his fingers deeper into you, making you whine at the intrusion as he curled his fingers inside your wet heat, moving at about the same pace that you stroked the other one’s cock, repeatedly pressing into that one area that pulsed pleasure through your abdomen with each movement. You writhed in his hold, resulting in him using his other arm to keep your hips in place as he fucked you with his fingers.

“M-More,” you whimpered, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers inside of you, his tortuous pace and his hold on your hips forcing you to take only what he decided to give you – what he thought you deserved.

“Uh uh–” Sanemi tutted, grabbing your perfectly styled hair into his fist, pulling your head up toward him, “keep your eyes open, brat, you still gotta work on my cock, remember?”

You nodded, opening your eyes as you focused on stroking his cock, increasing the speed at which your hand glided along his length.

Sanemi’s fingers, too, picked up a faster pace, two of his clone’s thick digits pumping in and out of you, until the only sounds that could be heard were the slick of your hands working on each other and the soft grunts and moans coming from each of your throats.

Then, without warning, the clone decided to remove his fingers from your pussy. Whining, you tried pushing your hips back to receive more attention from him, only to let out a shaky moan when you felt his wet tongue travel along your slit.

“Fu–uh–ck” you shuddered as he lapped up your juices, his hands spreading along the meat of your ass, making you wince slightly from remnants of the earlier punishment you received.

“Shit, you taste so fuckin’ good,” the clone muttered as he licked a broad stripe up your cunt, “fuckin’ knew you would, princess, you always smelled so damn sweet.”

“H-Hah–?” you tried to conjure a response, which more so resembled that of a moan as it tumbled out between your lips.

“C’mon, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you stupid already, princess,” Sanemi chuckled, “just what do you think happened to all that clothing of yours? Especially your panties– god I couldn’t get enough of ‘em, your scent would linger for so damn long.”

An intense heat bloomed along your cheeks, realizing just exactly what he meant.

Sanemi’s clone groaned as he plunged his tongue into your heat, lapping up everything you gave him as he ate you out. You continued stroking the other’s thick length, bringing your lips to the tip of his cock, experimentally licking at his leaking slit. Sanemi’s grip on your hair tightened, encouraging you to keep going – to keep serving him.

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, a soft hum sending vibrations down his length as you reveled in the way his clone was sucking at your clit. Hollowing your cheeks, you started sucking at his bulbous head, using your tongue to lap up any precum that seeped out of his weeping slit. Sanemi pushed your head further down, impatient with you only giving attention to his reddened tip, which caused you to choke along his length as it entered the back of your throat, tears pooling around your eyes as your lips swollen lips took inch after inch of his thick cock.

“Fuck– that’s it, princess, just hold on a lil’ longer f’ me,” he grinned as he looked down at the mess you were quickly becoming, gagging around him like the good little slut you were, until he finally let you off of his cock, with you gasping for air.

Yet, his clone didn’t stop his assault on your cunt, switching between licking and sucking at your clit and feasting on the sweetness that came out of your wet heat. The original Sanemi put his hand underneath your chin once more, forcing you to look up at him as the tension in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

“God– so good,” you whined, relishing in how Sanemi’s tongue felt against your wet cunt, looking up at the one in front of you with the prettiest, watery eyes that he’d ever seen, eyes which begged him to let you cum.

Yet, just as the warmth in your stomach was about to spill over, the clone removed his mouth from your pussy, leaving you to clench around nothing as you whined and pouted at the one in front of you.

Both of them let out a light snicker, until the one holding your chin knelt down in front of you, grinning as he stared down at your pathetic form.

“Did you really think I’d let you cum so easily, little brat?” he inquired, the raspiness of his throat making his question all the more intimidating. You shook your head, knowing better than to argue or beg for what you wanted.

The Sanemi behind you gave a sharp slap to your pussy, causing you to yelp from how sensitive you were from the pleasure his tongue gave you only seconds before.

“Please– wan’ your cock, wan’ to cum around it,” you whined pathetically, trying to wiggle your hips as they were held in place by the clone behind you.

Sanemi’s eyes were wild as he smirked down at you, “Oh? You want my cock, princess? You want me to ruin you completely – make you a complete mess until you’re nothing but a hole for me to fill?”

You nodded quickly, eyes glossed over as he described what he could do to you.

“Fine, just because you begged so sweetly for it – but you won’t be getting my cock, princess – not yet. You’ll have to make do with my double’s – think you can do that for me?”

“Yes– please, anything, plea–ah!”

Without warning, the clone behind you shoved himself balls deep inside of your hot cunt, breaking past the thin tissue near your opening and pushing deeper, until his tip nearly kissed your cervix.

Sanemi’s thrusts were rough, plunging into your heat fully with each strong push of his hips. His balls slapped against your clit, providing extra stimulation as he fucked himself into you, turning you into a whining, moaning mess.

The original Sanemi took in every expression and movement you made, relishing in how he was finally able to break you down into tiny little pieces. He grabbed his cock as his clone continued pumping into you, and started fisting himself at an equally fast pace.

“Look at yourself, princess, so fuckin’ pathetic, aren’t ya?” he grinned, “you’d always carry yourself like you were the most important person in the room – like no one else mattered but you, all because of your goddamn status.”

You whined in response, unable to verbalize anything as your mind softened with every single thrust of his cock; you were becoming malleable, your mind opening and wishing to be molded by him the more he fucked you.

“I reject all of that. You were never important – you’re nothing but a fuckin’ brat for me to tame, a slut who needs nothing but a cock to make her happy.”

He slapped your face with his cock, some of the release which seeped out from his tip managing to find itself on your cheeks before he began stroking himself at a furious pace once more. His other clone pounded himself into your cunt, the blunt head of it fucking that one spot inside of you which made your mind go blank.

He was right – you weren’t a princess, you weren’t someone with status or wealth or royal blood – you were nothing but a hole all this time for him to use and fill, a cumslut, a cocksleeve – all for the man in front of you.

How could you be so blind?

All you could do was moan, becoming more and more pathetic as his clone filled you with his cock, clenching around it and gripping his cock like a vice, your cunt sucking him back in every single time he pulled out.

But it wasn’t enough.

You needed – you craved the Sanemi in front of you. You needed him – not his clone, to take you, to truly beat you into submission like the dumb little brat you were.

“Please, please Sanemi– I need you,” you begged with the man in front of you, tears filling your eyes once more as you pleaded for him to fill you – to make you his.

The Sanemi in front of you said nothing before standing up to his full height as his clone removed his cock from you. The original Sanemi waved his hand yet again, this time allowing a cushioned mattress to appear in the small, dark corridor the two of you were in.

The clone sat down on the mattress, before the original followed suit.

“Sit on my lap,” he demanded, and you obeyed immediately – thighs wrapping around his waist as he slipped his cock into you, to which your head fell to his shoulder as you let out what could only be described as a sigh of relief.

Sanemi gripped your hips, moving you up and down on his cock so you could get an understanding of what he wanted you to do, showing you exactly how he wanted you to bounce on his dick.

It wasn’t long before you grew enough confidence to perform the action by yourself, moving your hips up and down as you fucked yourself on his cock. Your arms found their way around his neck as you whimpered softly into his ear as you impaled yourself on him again and again – with no thoughts going through your mind other than the desire to make him feel good.

At some point, you noticed his clone behind you, a single digit nudging at the entrance of your asshole, pushing and prodding his finger gently so he could fully enter it inside of you. Heat prickled against your cheeks as you forced yourself to relax rather than tense at the unfamiliar contact – allowing the clone’s finger to work its way into your ass.

You continued to fuck yourself on Sanemi’s cock as one finger became two, opening you up further and further, before you felt a lubricant of some sort being conjured from the clone’s fingers, allowing him easier access to your hole as he continued fingering you.

“Relax f’ me, sweetheart,” the clone muttered as you whimpered in response, your movements slowing as you noticed his cock pressing against your ass – which had also been covered in lube – before slowly pushing into you.

You choked on a moan as you felt him stretch you out more than you thought possible, having fully stopped your movements in order to focus on accommodating his massive length inside of you.

Realizing this, Sanemi readjusted himself so that he was laying on his back, heels digging into the mattress before continuing to fuck into you. His clone got up on his knees before entering himself back into your tight hole, entering you when the other Sanemi pulled out – constantly being filled by either one of them without end.

“Fuckk,” you groaned, mind addled with pleasure as the two Sanemis kept filling you with their cocks, unrelenting in their thrusts as they bullied themselves deeper and deeper into your holes. You felt that same pressure building up in your abdomen again, becoming tighter and tighter with each plunge of their cocks.

“Please, ‘m gonna– ‘m gonna,” you begged Sanemi once more as your tears started to flow freely down your cheeks, pleading with him to let you cum.

“No. You’re gonna fuckin’ hold it. You don’t get to cum until I tell you to,” he answered, making you whine yet again at how unfair he was being.

They started fucking you even harder, thrusts unrelenting as they took turns filling you up. It took everything within you to not cum – to obey Sanemi’s command, shutting your eyes tightly as you tried focusing on anything other than how good they were making you feel.

Both Sanemi and his clone’s thrusts started to become sloppier, rutting into you as they both started to reach their own ends.

“I’m gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy,” Sanemi growled, his voice raspy as he fucked into you, his cock starting to twitch as he neared orgasm, “gonna cum in my pussy, isn’t that right, brat?”

You nodded, “Please! Need your cum Sanemi, please cum inside me–!”

With one final stroke, both him and his clone released deep inside of you – flooding both of your holes with their hot ropes of cum.

“Fuck! Too– too much! Gonna– ah!”

You couldn’t help it– the feeling of them filling you up felt too good. Despite desperately wishing to obey Sanemi’s order, you ended up orgasming all over their cocks, gushing around them as warm ropes filled you up, with both of them groaning as you clenched and pulsed around them.

“Fuck–! ‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!” you whined loudly as you came, hips betraying you as you attempted to prolong your euphoria by grinding down onto them.

After coming down from your high, you were met with a stormy glare from the man in front of you.

Your eyes widened, knowing you’d fucked up.

“I’m so sorry, Sanemi, I didn’t mean to, I–”

Sanemi grabbed your face, his thick fingers pressing into either of your cheeks.

“What did I fuckin’ tell you?” he asked simply, and a fresh set of tears brimmed at your eyes.

“Y-You told me not to cum,” you answered meekly.

“That’s right, brat,” he responded, waving his free hand to dismiss his clone – making his double disappear completely as he pulled out of your pussy. You whined at the lack of something filling you up, your poor cunt clenching around nothing once more as Sanemi moved away from you.

“On your back, now.”

You obeyed, flipping onto your back and spreading your legs for him without a second thought. You fought the urge to rub your clit – knowing it wasn’t your place to provide yourself pleasure anymore, as you watched him place his cock right in front of your entrance.

“Please, ‘m sorry,” you pleaded as you watched him glide it up and down your sopping pussy, gathering your slick on the tip of his cock. His lilac eyes met yours once more as he finally lined himself up at your entrance.

“If you want to cum so bad, fine. I’ll make you cum until you can’t even fuckin’ think anymore.”

He pushed his cock inside of you, flicking at your clit with his thumb as he dragged his length against your slick walls, brushing against that one spot which made you see stars.

“Please, nngh– need it,” you sobbed as he relentlessly fucked into you, before he took one of his hands and pressed it down on your lower stomach.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll fuckin’ get it, brat–” he panted, “feel me? Feel my cock pressing all the way into your stomach?”

You nodded, eyes rolling back as he refused to let up, your orgasm building on itself again until it finally reached its peak once more.

“Fuck–!” you screamed as he fucked you through your orgasm, not letting up even as you came down from your high, denying you any break from the pleasure that he was giving you.

It wasn’t long before the next orgasm as Sanemi rubbed your clit at a similar speed to his thrusts, causing you to gush again around his cock. He groaned as your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for all he had – yet he didn’t stop, rather, he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you – denying his own release in order to fulfill his promise of overstimulating you.

At some point – you weren’t entirely sure when – Sanemi folded you in half, your legs reaching your shoulders as he slammed even deeper into your cunt, his cock brushing against your cervix with each stroke. Your mouth hung open, your voice emitting short, unrestrained moans as he continued his assault on your pussy – fully abusing it until it molded into the shape of his cock.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum, brat,” Sanemi grunted as his hips fell onto yours with every single stroke of his cock. You whimpered, wishing for nothing more than his cum to fill you up – to breed you like the whore you were.

You responded with incoherent babbles, whining and moaning the more he rutted into your cunt, his thrusts getting sloppier as he approached his peak for a second time.

“Gonna fill you up, make you pregnant before you’re even– hah– even married,” he panted, a promise which made you clench around him even more, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, brat?”

“Y-Yes!” you managed to voice as he slammed himself deep inside you one final time, grunting as he filled you up – triggering your own final orgasm, causing you to milk him dry as he painted your walls white.

Sanemi collapsed to the side of you as the two of you regained your breath, staying like that for a few minutes before either of you spoke.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said awkwardly, “for ruining your garden in the way that I did.”

In response to your silence, he continued, “I had gone too far, I took something that you held dear to your heart away from you. I’m sorry.”

“I think I need to apologize as well,” you finally said, “not just to you, but to the others as well.”

Sanemi turned on his side, holding himself up by his elbow as he looked down at you, a slight grin on his face.

“You mean to tell me that fucking you was the solution to your brattiness this whole time? Not the crows or the dead cow–”

“Shut up!” you laughed as you smacked him in the chest, only causing him to grin more from your reaction.

“Am I wrong, princess?” he jokingly inquired, to which you hid your face from him with the palms of your hands – until he pushed your arms away, looking down at you with a triumphant smile on his face.

“You’re so stupid,” you half-heartedly spit at him, to which he put a hand to his chest in mock pain.

“You wound me, princess.”

You shook your head, scoffing as he got up, making the mattress beneath you disappear with a final wave of his hand, causing you to fall slightly onto the cold floor of the dark corridor.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him.

“I’m not exactly fond of castles, sweetheart, I can’t stand the pretentious atmosphere they tend to have.”

“So you’re leaving?” you further questioned, a little upset with the idea of not seeing him again.

“I am, but, if you are going to miss me so terribly, I could always sweep in and take you away from this wretched place, but I doubt you’d so easily leave your status and wealth behind.”

You remained silent, knowing that it would be near impossible for you to forsake all of which you knew and had for a simple, spontaneous desire to say yes, you would.

Sanemi smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed upon you – what was once hatred now replaced with something rather unfamiliar before vanishing before your very eyes, leaving you to stare at the emptiness of the corridor that you were in – having become alone once again.

Sighing, you stood up, gathering yourself – realizing that your once torn dress had been somehow completely repaired – as though it were entirely new.

With a little bit of difficulty, you managed to put your dress back on before heading back to your chambers, the unease of being married the following day looming over your mind once again.

The chirping of birds could be heard from your window once more, and, out of pure curiosity, you decided to peek out from your window to gaze out upon what was left of your garden. Yet, instead of seeing nothing but scorched soil, you managed to spot the blooming of a new plant – one which had not previously grown in your garden at all.

Rain lilies.

Perhaps, you thought, I should go down there and nurture them myself.

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @llearlert, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @roronoagem, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701, @whatthefucksatan, @peachdues, @xxsabitoxx (If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you. Apologies for the inconvenience.)

I hope y'all enjoyed :)

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leonw4nter · 3 months

Note

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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ladyelissarose · 1 year

Text

‘Trick Show’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female soldier reader

Little description of reader- She was part of the team ‘Ghosts’. She goes by ‘Red’.

Red has been recruited into the 141 Task Force after they needed her special tactics to catch a certain asset.

Summary; Ghost knew about the Team ‘Ghosts’ but what he didn’t know was that there was a woman in it. He thought only men like him could be Ghosts, so to test your loyalty and worth of being known as one of them- he put you through a test.

Warnings: smut 18! NSFW! Kidnapping, strapping down, oral (m receiving) rough Simon, some degrading and praise. Freakin’ 4k!!

“Boys, Laswell has brought in a temporary recruit. A Lieutenant they are, they go by Red, and are part of the lethal group we know as ‘Ghosts’.”

The ears of the 141 Task Force perked up at Captain Price’s news of them being in the presence of their idols. They admired these people- no, killing machines that wore a heart just like them, but were the coldest, deadliest beings on earth, it was a surprise that they hadn’t become the Grim Reaper if not Death themselves after so much blood shed with no consequences for it.

The one that was the most ecstatic about meeting such Gods to him, was none other than the one named ‘Ghost’.

Simon Riley would probably be qualified to be part of the Ghosts’ Team, but he was satisfied with being the best in his team, no one better than him.

Physically he didn’t show he was excited or anxious to finally see them, he wasn’t one to expose his emotions, and what helped was that mask he wore 24/7 to conceal what he felt.

So with his bulky arms crossed and his brown orbs holding a deadly glare, he questioned,

“Which Ghost is it? One of the Walker’s?”

His thick British accent hid the amusement he held, he sounded rather unimpressed or unbothered instead. Price looked up from his file as he pointed to the door with a steady tone,

“One’s here, Logan Walker- but to leave behind the one that’s actually staying. What Elias noted about Red is exactly what we need, someone stealthy, sultry and deadly…”

Ghost ignored what was spoken about Red, as he eye twitched at the mention of a Walker in the same atmosphere as him, oddly enough he was a secret admirer of the Walker brothers, and couldn’t wait to be around one of them. Maybe not talk- Simon knew deep down he wasn’t much of a talker anyways, but it’d mean the world to him to be able to see a Ghost in the flesh.

“So when will they arrive?”

Soap’s Scottish accent broke through the thin silence, but also the sound of the door creaking open, and two soldiers rustling in.

“-cut it out Logan- oh! Lieutenant Red, Captain Price. Apologies.”

Red had almost tumbled in at Logan playfully shoving her, but Price kept a steady hand in front of her as if to catch her, as he replied with a calm smile, eyeing Logan.

“No apologies Red, I saw him.”

Red then poked Logan’s chest with a tease,

“See? Now everyone’s knows your a bully-“

“That I’m ‘your’ bully- Logan Waker, Captain Price.”

He then with a proud smile shook Price’s hand in front of Red, further teasing as he was practically on top of her. Now with an elbow on her shoulder he informed Price,

“She’s yours now, do as you please. I’ll take my pack of- oof!”

Red scoffed as her elbow met his side,

“You’re not selling or trading me Logan- I’m sorry Price he’s food and sleep deprived at the moment.”

Price nodded it off as he then pulled Red away from Logan,

“It’s alright Red, c’mere kid.. let’s introduce you to my team, the 141.”

Simon never clearly heard what Price said of you, for he was angry- if not furious, livid. He had never heard of you, a woman, being a lethal Ghost, in the position of a man. It made him feel diminutive, and he hated that.

What about you was so good or special, that you had made it in, and wore the title- the damned mask? He didn’t know.. but he as hell was sure he was going to. Simon would find it out himself before anything happened, before you took place in your mission.

——————

“Wakey wakey… Red.”

Your eyes shot opened at your code name being muttered out, and you immediately jerked forward, only to be pulled back by the chains that were bound around you, giving you no space to move.

Only in your t-shirt and small shorts. Arms, wrists, legs- even ankles… were chained on you to the metal chair you sat on. You were quite incredulous as you gasped out,

“Where am I?!”

A deep growl escaped your throat as you tried to pull on the chains, but no avail was on your side unfortunately, you were tied up as if you were a monster. In confusion you took a split second to think-

‘How’d I get here?’

As everything around you didn’t look familiar- and you couldn’t recall getting kidnapped or taken away at all. Although it wouldn’t be your first time kidnapped, but c’mon.. this time you didn’t remember shit.

Last thing you ever remember doing, was drinking a warm tea offered to you by one of the team members before going to sleep.

A low tsk’ was heard, echoing off the corners of the metals walls, and soon footsteps followed, sounding slow and coming one after another like rain, although it sounded like the thunder but from a far distance. Soon a large shadow came into sight, tall in stature and muscular built, you had yet to see his face, but his presence alone made you gulp.

Nonetheless to hold a strong appearance or impression, you demanded,

“Who are you!?”

A gruff voice followed, one you thought you’ve never heard of, making your skin crawl and heart jump,

“Reaper... call me-“

Then his face came into your full view,

“Reaper... Red.”

Your jaw dropped in question.

‘Who the hell is this?’

His face was unlike one you’ve ever seen, beautifully terrifying. His eyes held a snakes gaze but were doe-like, the small light illuminating above him shadowed what appears to be brown eyes.

His nose was probably sculpted very nicely before it got broken, for now it holds a little twist, either way it fit him oddly well.

His lips, chapped and busted in the middle- looked endearing and kissable. The top lip was a bit small, but the bottom one? Carried out how plumpy his lips looked.

Although over all... it was scarred. An old one laid from the top of his eyebrow to the cheek, and the other went from under the nose to his bottom lip. Little ones were also here and there, like minor scratches- but it was sure that they came from big nightmares.

You’ve never heard or seen this man before, as far as you knew about (for you’ve seen countless of people in your lifetime as a Ghost- you pretty much see everything)

But this one, ‘Reaper’... you’ve never seen such before. Heaven and Hell at once. Light and Darkness. The mystery behind who he could be, triggered you to take all of him, so you could learn every bit of his story and take it.

Before you could ask any other question or further analyze Reaper, his voice came out like a command,

“Give me the intel and names of the Ghost Team, if not I won’t make your death easy.”

‘What?!’

That’s what this evil Reaper wanted? The names and info of the greatest team out there- to what? Kill them. That’s all everyone wanted to do to you guys, because you were good, and scary.

The chances of getting out of this situation alive was probably doubtful, as you were not with your team at the moment, and who knows if the 141 knows your missing! You have a mission to carry out soon for them- yet here you are... in chains at the mercy of this beast of a man.

But you were smart right? The best of the best in your team... you could get your way anyways. You looked up to him as if this was a joke, or showing he didn’t scare you, so you proposed,

“Can I cut you a deal?”

Reaper scoffed lightly as he crossed his arms, thinking for a moment,

‘A deal? You’ve got to be out of your mind..’

He grunted,

“What deal?”

You looked down and around for a bit, before blurting out,

“You’re killing me right?”

Appearing terrifying Reaper specified,

“You’ll be dismembered by the time I’m through with you… God wouldn’t recognize you.”

Biting your lip nervously at how you vividly imagined it, you sighed with distress as you spoke,

“If you’re killing me anyways.. might as well make it count for me- I’ve done too much to be left without a last wish completed. It’d bruise my ego.”

A huff left Reaper’s lips, it dripped out like disbelief as he heard your pride while at the supposed brink of death,

“Oh yeah? Then what’s the wish? Both of us must gain from it before I tear you apart-“

“Fuck me, I give you answers, then you kill me.”

Shock was written all over Reaper’s expression, he never would’ve seen that coming, although your wish was very engrossing to him anyways. Though to keep himself in check to make sure you weren’t being crazy or what not, he straightened his broad shoulders and pried,

“You fucking with me?”

You smirked a bit and almost groaned out,

“It’s that or nothing- you’d kill me for your pride and that’s it… no answers or clues if you-“

Then with gritted teeth to show your desperation or seriousness, along with nodded eyes on him, you added,

“Don’t. Fuck. Me.”

He internally scolded himself when his cock twitched at your words. Blood heading straight towards his cock as you then tilted your head back, licking your lips as you went on,

“Come on… grant me my wish. I’d love to fuck that cock of yours. Taste it, ride it, be railed like an animal with it…”

Slowly you began to move your hips on the chair, being a damned menace as your eyes rolled back. Your breath hitched a bit when you happened to hit a certain spot, and you moaned out,

“Pleasssse… I’ll give it to you Reaper. Fuck me to the point I’m dying, and on my last breaths I’ll give it to you.”

Sex rolled off your tongue, and it dripped like honey and sounded sweet, although the words in between were bitter and sinful. The throbbing in Reaper’s tactical pants were beginning to take over his mind piece by piece, his cock jumping every time you spoke, his breath catching in his throat when you made the smallest yet most wicked sounds.

What was the craziest part about this, was that he was supposed to unfold the truth about his trick before it got serious, or before you released the truth. But with those promises dripping out of your moaning lips, he had to take what he could get out of it as it was part of the deal till the end, so… he was definitely going to go on with it.

But he wanted to tease you a bit more first…

The turmoil he caused you as he made you think he was killing you in the end, excited him on a whole other level. Tears streaming down your eyes, pouty red lips, you spilling your darkest desires, surrendering everything to him because he had the upper hand, it had him palming his painfully hardened dick through his pants, it was naughty all right- but damn it was tempting.

He let a low growl release from his throat as he heard another low whine escape your lips, and the pathetic cries while you clenched your thighs together,

“Reaper…. Please, just do this for me… and I’ll give you everything.”

You had your head tilted back the entire time, giving Reaper the whole view of your neck, the perfect canvas so he could mark you up and paint his teeth on you.

“Reaperrr- wha the deal-“

The last working cell in his brain spoke out, trying to hold him down and back as if he was a rabid dog,

“Shut up! Fucking hellll.”

Reaper lowered his gaze to the ground, not wanting to be spurred on more by your hips grinding onto the chair, although he still subtly rubbed his hardened length.

Simon thought he’d might make it through it- his little façade of being Reaper, and might just let you go instead and humiliate you for your naughtiness and unfaithfulness to the Ghosts. But you were sultry one, mumbling out loud enough for his ears to hear,

“Make. Me.”

Reaper came back and practically gulped at your daring words, and that’s when the thread of his patience and tolerance- snapped.

Head tilted back not by your choice anymore, but by the force of his large hand squeezing your throat and holding it in that position.

“Want me to shut you the fuck up?”

You were able to pull up one side of your lip, putting up a smirk as the words came out,

“Did I stutter... Reaper?”

“Fuck it-“

The zipper of his pants went down and in seconds his leaking tip came into your view as he had lowered your head by gripping your hair.

“See this? This is what your naughtiness does.”

Sucking your bottom lip then releasing it you questioned,

“What does it taste like?”

Reaper only smirked and muttered,

“Taste the fruit of your affliction, Red.”

No more smiles or words came you of your dirty mount, as it was stuffed to the brim by his fat cock.. shutting you up. He gave you no time to think or breathe as he fucked your mouth roughly, his hips hitting against your lips as he didn’t relent for one second.

“Fuck- suck on this fat- c-cock! Maybe that’ll shut you u-up! Oh Fuc-“

Groaning out in ecstasy as he held a full hand of your hair, guiding you back and forth, making sure your tongue got every bit of him, your nose touched his pelvis, and his cock touched the back of your sore throat.

“Such a good mouth you fucking slut- ohh fuck!!”

He’s had blowjobs before- but this? Ohh he could’ve sworn he was in heaven at how pleasurable it was. The way your tongue grazed over him and how you applied the right pressure, it got him on every nerve- the right way. To the point his eyes were rolling back and he was panting in desperation, his peak skyrocketing to incoming release.

“Fuck it I’m s-so close!! Ah!!”

But now as he loved the way you felt, he didn’t want to cum in your mouth anymore.. he wanted to cum on all of you.

“Fuck you-“

He left you gasping for air as he had suddenly pulled out, whimpering at the lost of your warm tongue on him, but he then growled as he searched like a mad man through his pockets for the key to the chains.

He had gotten most of them off of you in lightning speed, but the frustration of his high pending had him ripping off the rest of the chains from the chair, sending the pieces flying.

You were shocked at his desperation, and at his strength, trying to collect the thought of who he was as he was controlling, weak, desperate, and a good fucker-

“AH!”

Breath escaping your lungs as Reaper had grabbed you by the waist roughly and placed you face-down on the ground, hips pulled up to meet his crotch.

But what confused you was when he hesitantly asked, still using his firm tone,

“You sure are you want this?”

Your head was pressed to the cold ground by his hand, but you lifted it slightly as he had let you do so, wondering what you were going to say. Eyes meeting his you replied nonchalantly,

“It’s part of the deal isn’t it?”

His stern look turned unexpressive,

“That doesn’t answer it-“

“Fuck me Reaper, please.”

Fine, that’s what you wanted that’s what you’d get.

“As you wish.”

Cold air met your ass as he had pulled down your shorts, lifting your knees so he could slide them off completely.

‘Smack!!’

You let out a sharp squeal as his warm, large palm had met your ass, before his cock was pressed up to your clit, rubbing your wet slick all over it. You had grown soaking wet at gagging on his cock, and now your wetting him again as he’s pressing his tip into you.

He watched you for your reactions to his thick cock entering your tight pussy, but like that damned trained Ghost you were, you were expressionless, holding all the emotions in you in a cage, even when the craziest of things were happening to you.

But that made him almost angry, hating that you were the Ghost and hiding the emotions, while he gave up everything of himself to break you.

So he’d then break you- with his cock.

The rest of his length he slammed into you, and the only reaction you showed was with a groan,

“oh fuck”

He had started pounding into that pussy of yours, harder than ever, his hands gripping your ass tightly or your hips, wanting to leave marks and maybe cause a fraction a pain to you- just to hear your cry or break- but instead you moaned out like a bitch in heat. Although tears had started to fall- not cause your soul broke, but your body responded to him breaking it.

“Fuck!! Ugh- harder Reaper pl-please!!”

A sob escaped your wet lips as Reaper grasped onto your hip painfully hard, and his other hand found your throat, bringing your back against his chest with a hard smack, earning a delicious gasp from you.

He relentlessly began to rut into your throbbing pussy. Punctuating his words with every thrust.

“Fuckin’ helll... What. A. Good. Fucking. Pussy. Yesss Ohhhh fuck!!”

Squelching, wet sounds could be heard from your pussy as you were dripping from his precum and yours, skin slapping repeatedly followed as he went on and on, following your command to the perfect ‘T’.

His hard thrusts met your cervix every time, hitting that gummy part in you that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back, your breath was even knocked out of you as he pounded you like an animal.

Soon his hand left your hip, and traveled down your navel, straight to your clit, his two fingers pressed down on it and made you squeal,

“Oh!! Reaper- please touch my pussy! Ah- Yes!!! Like that!!!”

Small but hard circles were pressed onto your clit, further stimulating your climaxing high as your body was experiencing euphoria on a whole other level. He could feel how dangerously close you were to the edge, as your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, swallowing his length like a tight vice.

So to put an end to the chase, he purposely found your clit once again and rubbed tight circles, while railing into you faster than ever as he felt his high coming too.

“Cum f’me. C’mon Red- oh fuck-“

You got a hand full of his hair from behind you and pulled it as you began to see stars and your legs even started shaking.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming- please don’t st-stop!! Oh fuck Reaper!!”

Toes curling as you let out a long moan, finally feeling the band snap, and stars escaping every where. Reaper rode out your high as he rutted his hips into you, dragging the pleasure out for you as he drive himself closer, wanting to feel your warm cunt a little longer.

He was going to come any second now, his thrusts were harsh, quick, and the rhythm wasn’t consistent anymore, he had lost his streak a long while ago as he was going crazy rutting into your pussy.

All this while you were of breath, as you felt it all dissipate, but it was cut short when Reaper suddenly held a firm grip on your waist and flipped you over.

“Oh-“

When you fell on your back you saw the man hover over you. He was covered in sweat and his cheeks held a bright pink color, his eyes- all of him screamed sex and highs as he looked down at you hungrily.

When he had discarded all of his clothes- you’d never know, but he was bare before you, his tits- chest.. his chest glistening in the light covered in different tattoos which held different stories.. scars were part of the design on his canvased body.

Wet sounds could still be heard and that’s when your eyes and head tracked down to seeing him milk his cock, girthy it was and long in length too, red at the tip.

Your hands grabbed onto his that held your throat tight, as he began to let low moans and small whimpers escape.

Wanting to spur the moment, you began to coo,

“Come on Reaper... reward me.. give it to me.”

Your voice got him high and in seconds you were hearing a deep growl escaping his parted lips, and soon felt the warmth of his thick white cum painting your tummy to your breasts.

For being called Reaper he looked like a angel to you. He was quite the sight to behold... but now.. it was your time to shine like the Ghost your were after all.

As he tired to soak in is post-sex moment, you caught him by the waist with your legs, and flipped him around, where you ended up above him- hovering over him this time.

Simon’s brown eyes didn’t catch yours as your face was over his, but it was a glistening shine, a dagger shining in threat as it was pressed against his throat.

Words couldn’t collect in his mind which meant his tongue was speechless.

‘What the fuck-‘

“Did I pass the test Lieutenant.. Ghost?”

That sultry voice of yours came out from the bottom of your cold heart.

Simon let out a choked sound as he couldn’t quite grasp what the heck had just happened and what the hell he was looking at.

He was still coming down from his high and now feeling confusion if not panic arise in him at this, and it wasn’t a good combination if you wanted a clear head. But his fuck up kinda dawned on him as you added,

“I knew it was you Simon Riley…”

Oh fuck he shamelessly could’ve cum again at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, how wicked of you, but weak of him.

Although his eyes did widen and still showed that he didn’t necessarily believe you, so you went on with a sweet chuckle,

“what? You though that only you did your homework on people? Ha.. think again ‘Ghost’.. no matter how much ‘you’ think so little of me, I’ll always be a Ghost.. and of course.. I did my homework on you too. I know ALL about you.”

You then planted your hand on his neck, where a large scar laid, and you calmly yet firmly stated, eyes filled with honesty,

“I wrote the file on when you got buried alive, and crawled your way out. And this scar, I wrapped it up for you while you were unconscious on the heli when we finally found and picked your ass up.”

A breath of relief was then released from your lips, as you had finally got this confession off your chest, with exhaustion you plopped down onto Simon’s chest, resting your palms on your thighs. Simon didn’t realize how effective you were as a Ghost, and how much you knew about him now more than ever… he couldn’t risk letting you go now.

His hands snaked around you and rested on your hips, giving a gentle squeeze as he declared,

“You can’t tell a soul about this.”

With that seductive way of yours, you leaned over Simon and traced his jaw with the dagger, looking straight into his soul as you suggested.

“Then you better ask ‘How hard?’ every time I tell you to fuck me- understood?”

The authority in your voice had him reply with a shuddered breath, not being able to take his ego off its knees. And of course, he was going to comply, he was just as addicted now.

“Affirmative ma’am.”

You smirked in triumph at his response, bringing his pink lips to yours, pressing a messy kiss to his lips and tasting the roof of his mouth. He let a sigh escape his throat in pleasure, but it didn’t last long when you bit down hard on his bottom lip, causing him to hiss. Blood trickled down his plumpy lip to his chin, but before it could touch the ground, you slowly- while keeping eye contact with Simon, you licked it up and cooed,

“Good boy…”

Like a shy school boy Simon’s cheeks were dusted with pink, his eyes not meeting yours anymore as he was filled with shame for his foolishness, and for how weak he was- falling into a Ghost’s trap so easily.

You then gripped his chin and gave him a last lecture, just for him to carry on.

“Next time you pull a gun on me to question my ability.. just remember I’m always two steps ahead of you- although fucking your gun was damn pleasurable. Oh and one last thing.. I specialize in seductiveness as a Ghost… this pussy gets answers every time. But no one has lived ‘till the end of it- but you..”

-I need help y’all-

#call of duty #call of duty smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod ghost #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost cod #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley

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mamayan · 1 year

Text

★Mind Break☆

Cult Leader! Tenko Shigaraki x AFAB! Reader

You should’ve known better than to run from the devil.

WARNING: This work contains depictions of psychological, physical, and emotional torture. Cult ideologies/problematic religious themes will be present throughout this writing, and will include nonconsensual and dubiously consensual sexual content. Abuse, violence, murder, sadism, and blood used even in a sexual context will be present. This story is not a romance, and depicts unhealthy obsessions and mental illness caused by psychological breaks. I am not going to tag this work further. By reading this work, you are agreeing that you understand it will include morally conflicting content and sexually explicit material which can be considered extreme. Read at your own risk, and enjoy. ♡

It wasn’t always like this.

You shift, abhorring your inability to function properly anymore, trying to make your body comfortable despite the freezing temperature having numbed your muscles into lead.

The metal bed chained and hanging off the damp stone walls seemed to inject ice into the very marrow of your bones. Was there even a point to it?

You distractedly listen to the soft scurry and skitter of mice. That was the point of it.

Everything hurt.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, face blotchy and swollen from the last round you’d given into.

It wasn’t like this before.

Sure, you’d occasionally slip up, and you’d get a swift smack on your ass for causing trouble. Where was that treatment now? It changed when he stepped up. When Father Shigaraki passed the torch to him, your life became a walking nightmare.

Your chest constricted, eyes shutting despite no light illuminating your surroundings as memories flooded. The throbbing in your skull becoming a fist pounding to get out.

When you’d finally gotten old enough, you’d left the compound. Ran away from everything you’d ever known and loved. Your instincts had screamed at you to get away. Tenko had become a man you could not withstand, because despite his treatment towards you, everyone loved him. They had hailed him as the next great leader and prophet, saying that he’d bring them to greatness and no one would’ve believed you. He was hope in the dark world for your community, and that was the sign which showed you that the only way to survive was to distance yourself as far as possible.

You stayed hidden for nearly five years… you truly thought for a moment you were free. You thought he’d forgotten. That your past would let bygones be bygones.

You were sorely mistaken.

You clenched your teeth as the loud sirens began, the noise so sharp and painful it made your head nearly break.

You could only weakly curl up, mind so foggy and disoriented you didn’t hear anything but a constant buzzing tone in your ears as the siren waned into silence again. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve slept. Food was brought but it was merely pushed through a hole at the bottom of your metal door. You got two meals a day, bread and a watery vegetable soup.

The sharp pounding on the door cuts through the tinnitus and has you scrambling off the bed, muscles screaming in protest as your skin splits under the jagged earth you’d thrown yourself onto. Tattered clothing not helping the painful friction as you dig your bare feet into the stone and pushed yourself against a wall.

You weren’t fully cognizant, but as the heavy lock turned, you whined as warm light crawled into your space, nearly blinding you despite the dullness.

“Poor thing…,” his voice was raspier than you remember, more gravely in depth as he chuckles, looking down at your pathetic form curled and shaking.

“How’re you doing my little lamb?” His humor isn’t disguised in the least, his glee at seeing you vulnerable and weak for him obvious as he grins.

He tracks your bloody hands weakly hugging yourself, your bottom lip trembling as you look up under your lashes with those teary eyes he adores so much.

Your small pink tongue dips out to lick your lips, his dark garnet eyes watching intently.

“M-m’cold…” your voice is tiny, hardly audible.

His boots thump loudly as he walks towards you, ignoring how you clearly tense up and attempt to mold yourself into the wall to get away from him. When he’s close enough to nearly touch your bare feet with his boots, he crouches down, resting his forearms on dark denim as he tilts his head with a soft expression.

“Tell me lamb, was it fun out there?” The light against his back blanketed his pale skin in warmth, “Did you have fun in the big wide world, running around, dirtying yourself like some common whore?” You flinch as his tone grows in severity. Blurry vision looking at a familiar yet not face.

He has a scar on his lip, one which hadn’t been there before, crossing straight down.

He was still a beautiful man, the scar even seeming to add a masculine charm to his otherwise somewhat pretty visage. Soft purple rings clung beneath his eyes though, making him look softer somehow. He looked like he’d slept about as much as you.

You stared too long.

You can’t react when his hand shoots out and curls around your neck, fingers and rings digging painfully into your flesh as he cuts off your oxygen cruelly. Your fingers grasp at his wrist and hand, futile in their attempt to pry his death grip off your throat as you slowly suffocate. The pinch and pull of the jewelry he wore was breaking the delicate skin and making it more slippery as blood flowed.

He’s rambling, but it sounds like you’re underwater and he’s above the surface, as if he’s speaking another language.

Tears pool down your cheeks, rivers running freely like your blood as your face begins to take on a sickly dark hue, veins bulging in your face and eyes popping wide from their sockets. A few blood vessels bursting in your left eye.

Just as your vision goes dark, he lets you go.

Your coughing fit which followed nothing glamorous or cute, sputtering and hacking as bile rose but nothing came out. Your throat burned like someone forced you to drink gasoline and swallow a lit match, dropping over to your side by his feet and clutching where he’d left bloody indents.

“Pfft, you haven’t changed at all… I’m glad honestly.”

His boot connects with your side, merciful in the amount of strength exerted but still painful in your weakened state. You sputtered, nearly choking again on your saliva as you tremble and struggle to draw in air.

“No one is going to save you lamb, no one even wants to. When you ran away, you died to everyone here, everyone but me,” you can smell the leather of his shoe as he lifts it and brings it to your head, pushing down until you literally croak. “You should be grateful I’m showing so much grace to you lamb, the others suggested I do much, much worse to rehabilitate you.” His voice is snide while your heart wars with his words. He’s lying, he had to be.

You could only cry though. Sniffling beneath his boot as he lifted it off you, eager to look at your face.

His smile is vile, you note as your tired eyes flick up. He looked nothing like the messenger angel Father Shigaraki had dubbed him before his passing. As your tears blurred his pretty image… he looked like a demon from hell. A beautiful monster.

You weren’t sure what he even wanted from you, what it was he truly craved, but you wanted the pain to end.

Your palms scraped against the damp gravely floor below, finding a somewhat good position to lean your weight on and push your body up, even as your blood created an imbalance due to the slickness. Tenko let you, watching as your head hung in defeat lowered even further, chin tucked to your chest as your knees slid up. When you got to a semi-kneeling position, one hand steadying you on the ground, the other… the other reaching out and gripping his pant leg.

Those red eyes widened a fraction, watching intently as you look up at him from your spot on the floor.

His heart rate increased, pounding in his chest as he drank you in, lips twitching as his teeth ached. He didn’t stop you from using him as an anchor and rising up enough to sink your other hand into his pants too.

You looked like a dog begging for a treat, and his cock throbbed in agreement.

You remembered the degrading title he used to force you to call him when you were younger.

“M-Master…” it was almost inaudible, your sweet lips struggling to even form words after the abuse he leveled your throat.

“Master please…” even as your tears continued to fall, face ruined and messy, he laughed. Deep and boisterous, he nearly doubled over as he bared his white teeth.

“Fuck haha! You—!, okay, alright, what do you want little lamb, hm?” Once he calmed down enough, adrenaline high as he stares down at you with a renewed sense of vigor, he spoke.

He leaned down a bit, cupping your jaw and smiling deeper when you cringe and flinch, but still don’t pull away.

“Go ahead, you got my attention now.” He says it almost benevolently, but his eyes were impatient.

It hurt to swallow, your mouth having gone dry as you parted your lips.

“I want to be forgiven… I’m sorry…”

He lifted one sparse brow up. “Yeah? You’re sorry?” You nod, jerky and short as your neck flames up in pain.

He straights, tapping a finger against his lip in a gesture of consideration.

“Okay little lamb,” he snickers, “I’m willing to forgive you and let you leave here, but you need to be cleaned first.” You perk up, eyes finding a hint of light as the prospect of relief is dangled in front of you.

“Yes, anything please,” you gasp, desperation bleeding into your voice.

That’s why it takes you by surprise when his hands drop and begin to calmly undo his leather belt. Fingers steady and sure as you blankly watch him unbutton his jeans, and shimmy them down enough for his fat leaking cock to spring free.

“Well then, we can start by cleaning this filthy mouth first.” His eyes are closed as he grins, pearly canines on display and distorted features resembling something inhuman.

“T-Tenko…?” His hand not holding his cock swiftly sinks into your hair, easily dragging your face closer so he can slap the hard rod against your soft cheek a few times, the smell of him warm and bitter, contrasted by the damp cool air around you. “That’s not what you call me, is it lamb?” He doesn’t sound angry, but when you look back up, he’s dropped his cock and raised his hand.

The blow is more sharp than it is brute force, your head held in place by his other hand to avoid you collapsing and hitting your head on the floor.

Your cry echoes weakly. Face inflamed as your jerked right back to his groin where he smashes your injured cheek against his dick, rubbing it in as he groans.

“You need to be retaught manners too it seems, but we’ll just stick with a simple cleaning today.”

He’s speaking as if discussing a mundane topic like the weather, scolding you like one might scold a child in school. His tip rubbing and spreading pre-cum and tears across your face as you calm down from the pain he assaulted you with.

“Open your mouth.” He’s not asking but you obey and part your lips.

He holds a lot of your weight up by your hair, watching in fascination as his swollen mushroom tip rests against your bottom lip. His engorged meat rod looks insidious against your face pretty, thick veins protruding from the angry red of the skin, long and thick but tapering towards the tip a little where it curves up. He lets his hips tip, the tip entering your warm wet cavern, lips opening wider as he sinks about a quarter inside.

Your face scrunches, likely due to the sensation and taste of him, little tongue moving languidly against the underside of his shaft. He curses, bucking his hips a little more and arm exerting force when you attempt to pull back.

You whine around him, hands trying to push his hips back but too weak to prevent him from sliding out and doing it again.

“That’s it lamb, I’m just cleaning your mouth, relax~” he chuckles, Tenko’s grip in your hair tightening painfully as he begins testing your limits with depth and speed.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if, fuck, you just stayed home where you belong like a good girl,” he moans, your teeth accidentally grazing his cock but it seems to spur him on rather than flinch in pain.

“Shit, that’s it, go ahead and bite if you feel like dealing with a concussion, I’ll break your skull on this floor happily.” He’s sneering down at you, loving the fear which enters your gaze as you now struggle to open wider and avoid such a fate. It only helps him work his cock deeper, into your throat where you almost scream due to the blinding pain.

His earlier damage still too fresh as he loses it moaning, your slobber and blood now coating his cock and bringing delicious friction as he lets his tip tease your raw throat. His balls tap against the under side of your chin, his white pubic hair nearly tickling inside your nose as he tries to fit all of himself inside your mouth.

The noises you made would make any normal person stop. The painful howls muffled by his cock and stuffed back down your throat, his speed increasing as his balls drew tight.

“Have to keep you clean inside and out lamb, so you’re going to take every drop—,” his teeth are grit, grinding together as his orgasm washes over him, hot ropes of cum gagging and suffocating you again as he lets his cock rest inside your throat while he finishes. You don’t feel the cum, only him twitch as he empties his load into your belly.

Your eyes stare blankly at nothing. Dark spots dotting your vision even when he pulls out and pushes you off him.

You land on your side, wheezing and clutching your throat again as you blink away the darkness threatening to consume you, your adrenaline keeping you awake as Tenko crouches down beside you again.

He’d redressed, looking unfazed with a healthy pink hue to his cheeks now.

“C-can I leave now…?” Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own now. Each syllable grating on your damaged flesh.

“Why the fuck would I let you leave?” His words nearly stop your heart. Icy dread replacing the burning.

“Y-you said…” your eyes leaked, face showing your absolute shock and disbelief.

He laughed, standing up again, shoving his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at you.

“I lied.”

His lips tug higher as he leaves, locking you away again even as your wail echoes woefully throughout his hideout.

Invisible needles stabbed up your knees, waking you up more than the blaring white light.

You wanted out, away from this migraine inducing brightness, but all you could do was pray.

As a child, you’d preferred to sleep or pass notes around rather than be immersed in devotional. You wished you paid more attention, because only God could save you from this hell.

You flinched, startling yourself as shadows stretched and danced around the walls, despite the fluorescents preventing such things from being cast.

Your arms wrap around yourself, kneeling and hunched over as the visions continued even when you closed your eyes. Faceless dark creatures trying to pry into your mind as you scream, the noise bouncing back and slamming into your sensitive eardrums, breaking you from the moment.

They were gone, your weary eyes tracked, licking your dry chapped lips and imagining how nice it would be to have some sort of lip balm or lotion.

Your head bowed again, lips running through carefully memorized prayers as events from your past unfurl like a blooming rose. Each petal a fractured piece you try to suppress and fail, the voice of your therapist so distant now since you’ve been home.

Deep breathes led to panic attacks and unconsciousness, the faces of family and friends skewed into wicked distortions you struggled to differentiate between dream and reality.

Tenko remained vivid in your memories though. You grimaced, as it was likely due to the pain he inflicted in your youth, which seared into your subconscious as a warning for any future interactions. Humans rarely touch a hot stove twice.

You shake and tremble as time drags on, murmuring scripture from memory as best you can to ask for grace, pleading for your safe release.

Tiny patters catch your attention, eyes blinking open and staring at a small mouse. Soft tuffs of light brown fur, the little creature might’ve invoked disgust and fear before your capture, but now only bland curiosity filled you.

It scurried around for a while, sniffing at the metal tray left by a thin hole on the bottom of the door, looking for crumbs it would not find.

It was… abhorrently cute.

You returned to prayer, until your evening meal arrived and was silently exchanged, your eyes catching not even a glimpse of skin.

You shuffled awkwardly before the tray, decorum gone as you eat with need for survival instead of enjoyment, eyes steely and swirling almost violently as a tiny squeak draws your attention down.

The mouse. Tiny pinpoint dark eyes and a little pink twitching nose face you.

You should kill it. It likely had diseases or something else, it’s better of dead but…

Something inside prevents you, and instead you drop a few crumbs of bread.

It was all you could spare. The little creature isn’t wasteful though, eating with gusto unlike you as you watch in mild amusement.

“If you like the food so much, we should switch places,” you whisper jokingly, the mouse ignoring you in favor of licking and sniffing out even the most minuscule piece of food left.

You finish your meal too, however unsatisfying and unfulfilling.

Your eyes close shut even though the light disallows you any proper rest, mind shutting off like a device to power down.

Your hazy brain reboots at the sound of footsteps some time later, obnoxious compared to the ones belonging to the one in charge of food delivery.

Tenko, your brain unhelpfully supplies. You don’t want to see him. You want nothing to do with him or this compound anymore, but your body was beginning to associate him with more than just pain.

He was warm, physically speaking at least, and the skin on skin contact left you reeling with comfort you didn’t want to receive from him. He’s a lunatic and a psychopath, and you loathe him like none other, but the terror of him is equal to the hatred.

Your new friend abandons you as the locks turn, your eyes trailing up from the ground to watch as the door slowly swings open, revealing the man who haunts even your dreams.

“Hello little lamb, did you miss me?”

Each wobbly step felt like treading over broken glass.

You could hardly stand, legs truly unused to the feeling as you’d given up your mad pacing in favor of protecting the damaged soles of your feet.

Not anymore though, as the hand tangled in your locks jerked you onward, using your hair almost like a lead as you stare at the filthy floor you traverse on, destination left an anxiety filled mystery.

“Come on little lamb~ we’re nearly there,” his soft cooing voice makes your insides revolt, twisting and causing you to stumble.

At least he’s there to make sure your face doesn’t hit the hard surface of the ground, oddly powerful in his lean physique as he simply holds up your weight and pulls you along side him.

He’s merry and cheerful, whistling occasionally as he strolls as if through a friendly neighborhood park and not some type of underground dungeon only found in medieval theatrics.

Your eyes trail back at the light smattering of your blood on the floor, wearily looking as far ahead as you could in this half crouched position.

It was dimmer out here than your cell. The blaring alarms replaced by white hot light that seared your mind awake and deprived you of sleep further.

Out here the shadows danced. Your eyes fearfully taking in the monsters beginning to crawl off the walls and towards you, just out of reach though, as if Tenko was holding them back.

That scared you even more.

A new room came up just at the end of the hall, a shorter distance than you’d felt it was.

He hauled you forward and threw you inside before dim lights illuminated the space from an antique switch on the wall.

There was only a chandelier in here, you noted before the breath left your lungs on impact with the ground, side blaring up in pain as you lay still.

Your eyes widen, pupils dilating as strange staticky figures moved about the space, the room swirling like a whirlpool of colors before you were yanked up and out of the fever dream.

Tenko was humming some sort of hymn, his deep timber almost soothing despite his violent manner of dragging you towards a small in-ground pool.

A baptism pool, with steps leading into the shallow water with a metal railing for assistance, likely for the elderly.

Your vision seemed to jump back and forth between the water being a dark blue and bloody red, unintentionally jerking in Tenko’s hold.

He seems to misinterpret it, “It’s okay lamb, I’ll be baptizing you tonight, washing the sins of the outside world which tainted you away.” You want to bark at his delusional little speech, to roll your eyes or do something, but you’re silent like a doll in his hold. Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. Powerless.

He lets you drop, in favor of scooping you up bridal style in his arms, your filthy sorry figure truly in need of a bath you’ve been denied thus far.

He’s not the least bit repulsed, seeming even thrilled to hold you close as he smiles his pearly white canines at you.

“Look at you, being so good for me. I almost want to reward you,” he chuckles, face calm and even as he takes you both fully clothed into the shockingly cold water.

He doesn’t even flinch.

You’re unable to do much else but gasp, curling into Tenko’s warm chest as chills immediately wrack your body.

Once he’s about waist deep, he extends his arms and lets your feet sink down, one hand spread between your shoulder blades and keeping you up.

Those red hued eyes truly seemed to manifest evil, the dim lighting not dampening the color’s vibrance. He looks like a malevolent angel.

“Are you ready? You’ll need to hold your breath for just a little while I recite the passage.”

Something inside is trying to worm itself out past your lips, begging you to speak up, move away, not trust him.

You can’t seem to remember exactly why as you nod numbly.

Until his free hand raises up, pressed against your chest just under your collarbone and caging your upper body between his hands.

His smile is almost serene.

Then you’re submerged, just barely enough time to hold your breath while the chilling liquid around you wakes you.

Your eyes blink open despite the chlorine burning them, seeing him through a strange mirage now, lips moving and canted up.

Your chest starts to hurt after ten seconds. Then it’s a somewhat urgent need after twenty.

At thirty your instincts take hold and you struggle, air being pushed out meanly by his hand as he applies pressure to still you.

It’s impossible though, you need to breathe. You need it with urgency as your feet kick out, arms coming up to fight and remove his grip, but he just keeps you under. The adrenaline wins though, finally pushing him roughly so you can come up for greedy gulps of air, choking and sputtering while the rooms spins and nausea grips you.

“You didn’t even last a minute lamb,” he remarks offhandedly, and your near drowning reminds you why he is to be feared like death itself because his next move is to grip your throat, the other tangling back in your hair while he smiles down at you, face cinching unnaturally tight as he leans over your panting trembling figure.

“How about this? If you can last a minute, we’ll stop.”

Liar, your heart and mind roar with passion, but your survival instincts demand you do so because it meant life or death.

He doesn’t prepare you this time, sinking you under while his laugh filters through the water into a muddled tune as you fail to even last thirty seconds this time, clawing and biting like a wounded animal as your vision begins to go dark and lungs threaten to shut down.

He yanks you back up, just enough time to gather in air before you’re plunged again, vision beginning to fade as those horrid shadow creatures emerge, almost playfully as you dance around suffocation.

Your mind is playing tricks, these devils aren’t real, not when the one above you is flesh and bone attempting to end your miserable existence.

You’re dragged to the surface again, fighting for freedom from the death grip which holds you in the water as you lash out, a war cry almost deafening to your own sensitive ears.

It’s impossible to tell how long it goes on, your will for survival being challenged by a soul deep exhaustion, finger nails soaked in blood from scratching at his arms and even his bared skin around his throat and chest.

He’s content to watch the inevitable. The moment when your mind releases the concoction of chemicals to ease your death peacefully, because it could fight no longer as he repeatedly drowns you.

His eyes gleam with wicked joy, pupils enlarged as he pushes you beneath the water again, you’re thrashing so much more futile despite how you still struggled. You still wanted to live.

It’s inevitable though, when your vision goes dark, creeping in at the edges and swallowing your sight hole as a painless numbness washes over you.

You begin to hear again first. Strange warbled noises and hissing. Your foggy mind is content to drift, light as you feel rested and freed from the confines of agony which plagued you like a disease so long.

It sounds pained, the noises, the strange squelching and smacking not connecting as you languidly listen and try to decipher what was occurring around you.

Your vision returns next. Slowly, as if not to frighten you, your eyes begin to take in more and more light. Faded blurry shapes and colors becoming clarified into a full picture you could actually make out.

You were on the ground, this floor tiled like you’d see around a public pool. Face resting down as you looked at a familiar baptism pool which began filling your mind with dread.

The water was rippling, your eyes noting that the room was rocking.

Feeling came back last. You felt the chilly air slowly prick at your wet skin and hair, teeth sensitive as you felt your body rock, pressure and numbness beginning to fade into true feeling. Your hand was out stretched and dipped into the water, as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully pull you out, the cool liquid somewhat refreshing as your skin felt hot and feverish.

A blooming white hot pain in your rear caught your full attention though, body too weak to even manage words as you lay limp on the ground, realization dawning as full frontal clarity strikes you like a branding iron.

“Awake?” He muses, hand moving to press your face back down when you attempted to lift your head, not bothering to lessen his crushing weight as you choke and heave. Your eyes can only widen further, looking up at the mirrors which acted as a backdrop to the the pool to see your body and not recognize it. Not recognize you. As if this was all happening to another as he grunts, the hot iron rod which continued its path inside your taunt previously unused sphincter as you groan low in your throat like a wounded animal. Your own native language foreign in your mind as it goes blank to only focus on the mirrors.

His pretty face screwed up in pleasure, his tongue nearly hanging out his mouth as he pants and works his hips against you, more of a struggle to fully sheath himself inside your bleeding rectum due to the lack of preparation he’d done. The stretched ring of muscle inflamed as he lets a drop of spit hit just above it and slide around his cock as he grips your hips.

“You have such a tight little ass—fuck—,” his head drops, hair falling into his face as he watches you take him, pulling out occasionally to see how wide he’s left your abused asshole.

“—p-please—,” you brokenly whimper the words, still unable to fathom why this all was happening. What did you do?

It didn’t matter, not when his thrusts were getting rougher, thick cock spearing you and nearly tearing you open as he grunts and moans above you.

“Keep begging lamb, I want to hear it,” he chuckles, and your vision becomes blurred with tears you can’t even wipe away. Too tired and hurt. You wanted to sleep again.

He doesn’t like your unresponsiveness though, bucking hard and digging his knees into the ground to scoot you up.

You shriek as he pushes your torso back into the water, hand tangled in your hair as he cackles now, deranged expression lighting up at the break in your stoic facade.

“I-I’m sorry—!” Your voice is broken and raspy as you cry out, hands trying to keep him from pushing your head back into the water as his cock begins slamming inside you aggressively.

Blood, spit, and his earlier load he’d jerked and shot over your unconscious figure frothed at the base of his cock as he sinks inside you.

“Start begging lamb!” He moans as you tighten in fear and panic, senseless babbling too quick and jumbled for him to truly appreciate.

“Tsk, that’s not how you beg—fucking idiot,” he sighs, ruthless as he shoves you beneath the water again. Enjoying your futile struggle as your hips jerk and work his cock with delicious friction inside your rigid hot walls.

“Fuck yes, tighten your ass slut, that’s it!” He’s close just from watching you struggle.

Your eyes are open, staring at the bottom of the pool as he abuses your hole above the surface, oxygen deprived and delirious until he yanks your head up.

He moans loudly when you cough and sputter water out, the suction of your walls driving him wild as his thrusts become more jerky and uneven.

“O-oh God please—!” You can only sob for mercy, praying to be saved from the purgatory that is Tenko Shigaraki.

“Yes—! Pray to me baby, because I. Am. Your. Fucking. God.” He growls and punctuates each word with a merciless thrust, pushing you under one last time as he grinds his groin against your soft rear and pumps his load deep inside.

Bleary eyes blink open to dim lighting, seeing a familiar cell from the position of the metal bed.

Your head ached like it might split open any second, but your soul felt the most damaged.

You could only whimper and whine as you sat your stiffened body up, muscles screaming in protest as you stood before collapsing to the ground below.

It was a miserable reality as you dragged yourself over to the little toilet in the corner, attempting to relieve yourself but only finding the water saturated with murky red and clots.

The little sink difficult to use as a wash station, as you cup the icy water, for once grateful for it, and let it wash down your battered form.

It took what seemed like forever to clean away the evidence of him, but as you looked around, you realized blandly there were no clothes for you anymore.

What you’d worn to the… baptism, had been stripped in your unconscious state. He didn’t seem to feel like returning the tattered rags.

You crossed the room, laying beneath the metal bed now, content with just sitting with the low hum of aches inside and out of you. Curled on your side, you sit and watch the door in the dim orange glow of the lights.

They turned off the white fluorescents, which meant the noise would come soon.

It did, not long after that thought, the wailing siren began as you numbly looked ahead, no longer flinching at the noise.

Hours seemed to pass before your food arrived, which you crawled towards, content with eating on your stomach as you rested.

It was the familiar squeak which granted your friend the favor of seeing your face.

Your little mouse came just on time for… whatever meal this was. You hardly paid mind to it, throwing a few generous crumbs for your mouse like a gracious host.

“You should feel honored mouse, this is the finest bread they serve here.” Your giggle is slurred as you bite into the stale bread, mouth dry and the baked good only acting as sandpaper.

You finished it all though. Your mouse not one to be beat either, leaving no trace of the crumbs you’d left for it.

You smiled, content to watch it skitter about, before it curiously moved closer to you.

Then a little closer.

Then it was sniffing your finger, flinching back at first when you lift it, but coming back anyway as you softly pat its tiny head with the tip of your pointer.

“Am I all you got down here…?” You imagine those beady little eyes filled with intelligence and understanding.

“That’s okay. We can stick together.” It’s whispered like a sworn secret.

You let your eyes fall closed, trusting mouse not to attempt to nibble on you while you slept.

You awoke with a jolt, heart beating wildly in your chest as shadows rampaged around the room, the sound of the siren wailing as you try and scramble away from the chaos.

They were everywhere, trying to grab you, actually grabbing you, your scream of fright falling on empty halls as you struggle with your sanity.

Your legs kick out, arms thrashing as you attempt to fight off these morphing demons, hazy mind fighting for some sense of reason despite the madness.

A clawed hand reached at you from below, your palm instinctively coming down to smack it away in your panic.

The siren ends, and with it, the shadows seem to disperse as you pant and try to catch your breath, dizziness and fatigue weighing on you as your fingers rub together and feel something… stinky.

Your heart stops. The world seems to as well.

“Mouse…?”

It’s not real. Yet the little brown clump of fur and dark blood and guts could only be the dead body of your tiny friend.

“Mouse— I-I didn’t mean it— wait, why?!” Your shriek echoes, blood on your hand streaking your cheek now as you wail in anguish, careful to lift up the mangled corpse you’d crushed.

You did this. You hurt it. It was your fault.

It felt like you were being shattered. Screaming until you couldn’t anymore, coughing up blood from your raw and abused throat, clinging to your cooling friend as time became irrelevant.

Food came and went. You didn’t touch it. You didn’t know how many trays were given and taken away without a single piece touched, but it finally summoned him.

Heavy boots were your first clue, eyes still following shadows of little mice dancing around you.

The door opening changed the direction of your gaze as Tenko stepped inside, face impassive this time as he looks at you.

His presence invokes the tears which bubble and spill down your cheeks, quick to crawl on your knees to him like he was your last salvation.

“Please—,” your lower lip wobbled as your scratchy small voice broke the silence. “She’s hurt… I hurt her… please…” and he watched.

Watched the lovely little angel he adored lose her wings and fall to the depths of hell where he ruled.

“Shh… it’s okay, I’m here. Let me see,” he crouches down, smile soft and soothing to your frayed nerves, one hand moving to tuck a matted and tangled chunk of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t seem the least bit repulsed by the decomposing mouse corpse you held. Eyes focused and attentive on you, as you cried and confessed the sin of murder to him.

Like he was your God.

He wrapped you up in his arms, carrying you out as you sobbed weakly for mercy and forgiveness… for the little mouse and for your crime of harming it.

Your face buried in his neck, breathing in the scent of bleach and chemicals like it was fresh air.

You were curled up in a ball, rocking yourself comfortingly as you trembled in fear before hallucinations so real you weren’t able to differentiate anymore. Shadow monsters haunting you at every second except when he was around, trying to crawl into your mind and destroy you completely.

Your hands ran through your hair, clean now as Master had been returning nearly everyday to bathe you with him.

He should be back soon.

You glance at the bed and clean living space, somehow so foreign and alien that you feel terrified of even laying on it without him.

You hum a familiar hymn, counting the seconds until these demons are cast out in his presence.

Your soft skin is naked and bare, but the room is warm despite phantom goosebumps raising.

The door opens, boots muted on the fluffy carpet, strolling towards you with ease and grace as you unfurl and crawl towards him.

“Little lamb, did you miss me?” His cherry red eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief, glossy white hair swept back save a few strays which framed his face.

Your smile is genuine as you nod, “Welcome back Master.”

He watches you with immense satisfaction, your skin and hair healthier now that you’ve been rehabilitated and given proper nutrition and care.

You sit perfectly still, nude body on display for thousands of eyes. The solemn atmosphere disallows for embarrassment as Master speaks, voice carrying his message and voice of God for the people.

“With this sacrifice, let our sins be washed in blood!” his arms spread wide, the cheer of the church deafening yet you move not a single muscle.

You don’t watch, even as the muffled screams become gurgled sounds of drowning.

The sacrifice had to be a damned sinner, one Master deemed better off sent to Heaven early. Dying for the church like this meant even though they were unclean, they could still find salvation through their death. It wasn’t anything new, even as a child you’d witnessed such things.

You cease useless thoughts, eyes trained on him.

He caught your gaze, eyes crinkling as he grins before winking.

They smear the freshly spilled blood over you, hooded masked members wordlessly carrying out the ritual.

“Now the blood of a virgin needs to be spilled…” he murmurs for heads to bow, prayer beginning but you don’t close your eyes, staring out blankly as iron burns your nostrils.

Your skin painted with the blood of a sinner, laid dead on another alter, which you let yourself skip from staring at.

The prayer finishes as Master rises, turning his attention on you as he walks your way. His clothing is all white, current appearance similar to a saint as he approaches.

“Little lamb,” he smoothes a hand through your soft hair with affection, bright red eyes nearly glowing as he leans close, undeterred by the blood coating your cheeks, lips, forehead, and major portions of your body. “Are you ready to be slaughtered?”

A chant in the crowd begins. Hummed at first, building in volume, the words ominous. “Lamb for slaughter.”

You briefly wonder if you’re next, just like the man they’d gutted next to you.

You nod anyway. It hardly mattered whatever he chose to do with you.

Your eyes still widened in surprise as he pushed you gently to lay back on the alter, as he climbed up as well before his people watching with heated gazes.

Master grins, looking sinister and beautiful as he licks his lips and addresses the masses.

“I shall now make the virgin bleed,” you don’t question him as he easily spreads your thighs open, leaving your slit on full view for the crowd and his own eyes.

“Be good for me lamb, I know you can do it,” these words are hushed and spoken just for you, as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. The action is soothing, and you allow your muscles to relax as you watch the crowd with a mixture of emotion.

Were they real or shadows?

You jolt as you feel something hot and wet prod your vaginal entrance, looking down to see Master had freed his heavy thick cock, erect and leaking from the dark red tip as he pumps it with his free hand a few times.

Then he lets the soft warm tip slip through your folds, parting them to press.

It takes immense force that leaves your chest heaving for air as your finger nails chip and break on the marble alter, body wracked with the intense desire to cringe and pull away.

You stay still, as he grunts pushing into your dry walls, essentially digging his cock inside your cunt to burrow deep.

You’re hardly breathing anymore, face frozen in agony as he stuffed you with each searing inch as you grit your teeth and endured.

The chanting was muted by the muddled noise in your head, like water in your ears, as tears slid down your cheeks.

He pulls out completely once his tip kisses your cervix. His cock coated in a sheen of your blood, though whether it was actually your hymen or the tearing of your vaginal walls was not important. It was the symbolism.

He lets his people take in the sight of you both, feeling pride swell inside him as they grow wild with excitement, moving to close in around you both now. The elders stayed back, their robes and masks in place as they continued the chant while the younger and common members touched and groped your trembling body, smearing the blood and even moving it down to your slit where you jerked a little.

“Be gentle with my lamb, tonight, I make her my wife on this auspicious occasion.” His teeth are sharp and glaring as he smiles, your eyes watching as if behind a screen.

What day was it? You wondered oddly, curious why you couldn’t recall it at all.

Master begins disrobing, shamelessly revealing each inch of his lean muscular build for all eyes as he falls on you again, this time caging your view in to only see him.

Your eyes connect, his alight with joy. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you stupid tonight.” He whispers in your ear, too low for anyone else to pick up on, using the position to lick the shell of it as you moan at the strange sensation.

He uses one arm to stay propped above you, letting the other move towards the hooded hard nub just above your slit, pressing softly and rubbing circles as electric shocks of pleasure zap up your spine. Your toes cramp as you try to straighten, but his hips smashing against you ass he sinks into you again stop your movements.

Your eyes widen in shock.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

It’s strange, the fullness still heavy and different, but the sting and ache are gone as he uses the blood of that scapegoat as lube to fuck your pretty cunt.

Tenko laughs as your eyes glaze over, face already showing the euphoria as he works your clit and his cock slowly into you, taking his time this round without the necessity of injuring you.

His gaze even gentle as he almost lovingly fucks you, the terrified expression on your face amusing at the very least for him.

“Relax lamb, we got the pain out of the way, just keep your legs spread for me and I’ll do all the work.” He assures, and like always, you fall for it.

He works you both to climax quickly, chuckling as you clamp and seize around his cock helplessly.

Your hands gripping at his shoulders as he leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue in your mouth for a filthy kiss that leaves you light headed and pliant as he hardens again inside you.

You glance down wearily, his hips grinding back into you as his finger works your clit again.

“Let’s feel so good we both want to die.” Those red eyes seal your fate.

“Tenko! Stop breaking your toys, I’m not gonna share mine if you do.” Small childish and chubby hands grip at his own, tugging the toy owned by you from his grasp as he eyes you with disdain not matching a child his age.

“I have to break them.” He rolls his eyes, picking up the disfigured doll he’d “fixed” given to him by his previous family. The ones before his Master Father Shigaraki took him in.

“Why? That’s stupid.” You retort, obnoxious as you try to hide your dolls as if he even wanted them.

“Because if I don’t break it, then how is it even really mine?”

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed this piece! It was very self indulgent if I’m being honest~

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