#because it felt right to have those match in color

[nmzuka]

Wedding attire???

sorry this took a couple days to get back to! but I was compelled to answer with a drawing....

its not much but at least a doodle of their wedding outfits maybe I'll draw a nice fancy pic of them another time hhhh

it's kinda hard to tell but the like bouquet holder thing Ribbon has is a cobra heh also her bracelet and obviously his bow is styled like her fighter outfit ribbon

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hi! Spencer Reid x reader where reader is kind of panicking because she’s worried Spencer will get tired of her and find someone that’s more like him personality wise? But then Spence reassures her that he loves her and only her? 🎀🚬🤍🤎

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 589.

cw! angst :(

a/n: no i am not going to let bimbo reader sleep, but also i've been posting so much aaron recently, which is funny because i've been so obsessed with spencer recently. thank you for your request!

“I guess opposites really do attract huh?”

It was just a joke. A harmless, well meaning joke that completely spun your world off of its axis.

You were aware of the differences between you and your boyfriend, but you never felt bad about it, nor did he ever make you think that you weren't good enough for him. You would have liked to think that your differences was what made Spencer fall in love with you; but now you’re not too sure.

Yeah, sure, you needed help with understanding certain things, and your processing was a bit slower than others, but that didn’t make you stupid or annoying… right? 

What if you talked too much? What about that time that you kept interrupting Spencer while he was reading? Did you irritate him? Did he think about breaking up with you? You’d never had thoughts like these before because you never had a reason to. You always felt secure in your relationship with Spencer, like you were his equal. 

Spencer wasn’t used to your silence, it was unusual and quite frankly it raised the red flags in his mind. He was so used to your rambling about anything and everything that the quietness of his apartment was making him itch. 

“Sweetheart?” He called out softly.

It was almost as if his words scared you, your body jumping at the sound of him breaking the serene atmosphere of his almost dark academia-esque apartment. 

“Yes?” Your voice was hushed and meek and Spencer absolutely hated it.

He set his book down on the side table where he uncurled his legs and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “C’mere.” You looked almost hesitant to move, but nonetheless you got up and sat down. 

He grabbed your hand and held it firmly, but you didn’t make any effort to hold it back. It made Spencer nervous; did he do something?

“Sweetheart,” He reiterated. “Is something wrong?”

“Am I too much?” Your panic was quick to build. “What do you mean?” Spencer’s brows were furrowed inquisitively. “Like - like do I talk a lot? Or - or are my clothes too colorful? Do I ask too many questions?” Your speech fired out rapidly, almost as if you didn’t say what you wanted to know you may never do.

“Hey, hey, hey… no, no, stop.” Spencer was quick to shush you, opting to hold your face instead of your hand. “Did someone tell you that?” You shook your head, “No, yes? I don’t know. It - it was just because of that stupid joke Morgan had made.”

Ah, he remembers now.

“The one about opposites attracting?” You nod feebly. “And it got me thinking… what if I’m - what if I’m not a good match for you? You might want someone that’s similar to you,  one that knows how to play chess and understands all those super cool facts you know.” 

“Honey,” Spencer interrupts with a light laugh. “No.”

He wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at the sheer fact that he couldn’t imagine ever wanting someone else.

“I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I - I do admit that we are different, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I like that you aren’t like me. It’s comforting, and I just… I just love everything about you. I love you.”

“You promise?” You asked wetly with a pout. His lithe thumbs swipe at the tears trickling down your cheeks as he nodded, “Of course.”

“I love you too, Spencie.” 

There you were. His girl.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[shanieveh]

“ forget me not... ”

synopsis: neuvillette, too late to confess his love to you, is drowning from the suffering and regret that came along with it, especially after knowing that you felt the same all along.

tags: gn!reader x neuvillette, depression and low self-esteem, bittersweet ending, mentions of freminet, lynette and melusines, heavily implied reader death and neuvillette also kinda wanting to die

a/n: people want this and i have came to deliver (hopefully) enjoy~ this is my first long fic that i published

How can this be….?

Neuvillette sat in the corner of his office, all your letters in his right hand. How can you say you loved him… how dare you describe the love, the passion, everything you felt for him when he can't even say it back.

How can you love someone so unlovable?

His silent cries can't match up to the violent outbursts of the skies outside. Days went by when he first found out, the melusines were scared to death about who would report it to him. The way you dissolved into water, not even seeing you for the last time—not having the privilege to have a proper funeral.

He failed you… the monsieur wasn't too sure on many things but this one was certain.

Reading your diaries, knowing your thoughts and hopes for the future. It was an invasion of privacy but also in a way… the last remnants of your existence. One such entry was that of three years ago where you first met.

Encountering this, a profuse blush colored his face. The adjectives being used "handsome", "tall" and "kind" for your first meetingwith the chief justice. Far from the truth really, although Neuvillette knew you meant every word.

You always did.

You always were an honest person.

The very first day his lavender eyes met yours, to the very last. There was never a trace of impurity or a hint of a liar. Of course, the verdict went in your favor, because to him a precious rose like you can never steal and the plaintiffs were wrong.

Reading it now, not even a slightly negative comment was made to those who wrongly accused you.

"Maybe they had their reasons, after all, I was also in need of money at that time." you wrote. Adding on that you defended the "Monsieur Neuvillette" when people called "such a man of honor and kindness" a "merciless and arrogant man".

A man of honor and kindness? Your words became running thoughts in the hydro dragon's head. That day was one of the only days he didn't cry after a trial. Neuvillette was just happy that such a person of integrity was cleared of their name.

He turned through the pages of the diary, how you taught him to socialize and even mend his relationship with the hydro archon.

"Monsieur Neuvillette was too adorable! Being with a person of lowly status and treating me with such respect and humility, he truly is the epitome of mercy and loveliness."

How can you be so blind? Anyone with eyes will know that it's a privilege to be with someone so beautiful, especially to be with someone like Neuvillette. A cold and repulsive soul. You make him sound like a good person, when in fact he isn't both good and human.

He was a monster… these words of humanity you always used to describe a monster. Why do they sound so genuine? Why do they look so real? Maybe only you can make him like that, you and only you.

A few pages later he finally saw the words…

Words that should've made him scream in euphoria… tore him to a million pieces. Because even before this he already loved you… because you had so much time to confess but never did… and never will.

"I think I'm in love with the chief Justice."

And after that, he couldn't even get himself to read, he couldn't. His eyes got so blurry to see, his heart became too heavy to feel. Why were you… why you? In a world filled with monsters, they chose an angel. They chose a soul that still wanted to live, love and give. Those demons… despicable.

Remembering his shortcomings, maybe in some way he could've avoided all of this. Neuvillette shouldn't have given you his blessing to investigate the serial disappearance case.

But that glint of adventure in your eyes… he was too soft to reject you.

It was all his fault.

Wiping his tears he looked at the last entry of the diary… Oh.

Oh.

"After this investigation, I'll finally confess to him… I surely hope Neuvillette feels the same way, I even planted some forget-me-nots to give him in the backyard so that he'll know when it rains and he weeps. I will always be here."

The chief justice didn't know what was coming to him but he started running… and only then can he see the state of Fontaine. Many flowers have wilted and only a few people were outside. What had he become..?

"What's up with this weather? It isn't even the rainy season yet?!" A shop owner complained.

"I know! My crops have been drowning these days, at this rate if it doesn't stop we'll have a famine!"

It was all his fault, his running turned to a slow walk taking in all that he had done. This was all because of him. The lonely streets, the lowered morale. This was all because—

"Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don't cry!"

He turned to the voice and saw a young boy in the distance. Neuvillette remembered now, his name was Freminet. That child on which you doted extremely, giving him sweets and hushing his tears. The chief justice quickly let go of his gaze and continued to walk.

"You see Freminet, it didn't work... let's go inside."

The response was that of a stoic young woman, but he just continued his legs even if they wanted to rest all to see the last thing you cared for… those flowers. And when he finally was at the destination he saw it immediately outside.

It was in the bushes, he couldn't miss it. Every corner of your house was haunted, every tiny thing was a memory. The chairs you painted, the drawings pinned in the cabinet of you and him with the melusines. It was precious. All of it. Just as you are.

He finally saw them, most were almost to bloom and some were wilted. Picking one he unconsciously kissed it, perhaps mistaking it for you. These flowers were made to remind him he was never alone, but now he is.

More alone than he can ever be in one lifetime. Your scent still filled every corner, a remembrance of the biggest "what if" in his life. Your will stated that every single thing of yours is his just as you were always his. Bittersweet was he when reading it.

Neuvillete forgot that too included your house, maybe he was too consumed with your thoughts to visit this place. He was twisting the poor flower that looked so tiny compared to his hand. Perhaps that's what it's like to be with him. It's a curse…

He continues to caress the flowers, to treat them as if they were you. You were wrong on one thing about this, even if there were no flowers he will never forget you. Never, no way! The love he has for you can destroy nations and can cause millions of sacrifices. Just to keep you, to see your smile again.

But he can't even do that, you didn't give him the privilege to do something for you. If only he knew, he would've… done everything for you. The love that can create the strongest of floods failed to protect the one person he was supposed to protect.

At that moment, he felt the waters, the ocean, his home… you. It made his crying bearable, somewhat. Grief that could surpass a lifetime, wasn't enough. Nothing he can do will ever be enough to have you again. Perhaps he should also leave this world to stop being a burden to the people… and maybe to see you again.

"Neuvillette…"

Now he was even imagining your voice, or was he? Maybe he was delusional but he still followed your voice even if it took him to an unknown path. But the end was in a small pond, where you used to keep the fish, all of which were alive and well.

"Neuvillette…?"

At this he didn't even care if was going insane, your voice sounded like a melody even if it uttered his name. It sounded like a rare jewel, a myth, a prophecy too good to be true.

"Darling?" He replied in a hopeful tone. He looked through his surroundings, no longer was he in a pond but a terrain of boundless water. In the middle was a flying Oceanid, a spirit. Was it—could it be?

"Even I could feel the heavy pouring of rain, monsieur… don't be sad."

It was indeed your spirit, a part of you that remained before that bastard—he'll make whoever did this pay. It wasn't for justice anymore, this one is for revenge.

"How can I not? When I have failed you over and over again, I couldn't even get to say…"

"That you love me?"

His eyes widened, looking at you. Even if it didn't look like you, he knew… he always did. A nod soon followed after that, it was barely noticeable even at this rate the chief justice was a bit shy saying it.

"I just don't know why you could ever say you love me, how you could even think of me so kindly. Why? How? How can you love me back?" He was clueless to what you mean.

"How can I not?"

The reply you uttered was one of a teary-eyed person. Even to this moment you still haven't accepted you had died, not when he was still alone needing you.

"Just as you said… how can I not? You out of all people my dear… know of the sacrifices we make for the person we love."

It was that moment where you took your normal form, you looked beautiful as the day he lost you. As beautiful as the day you met. And as you walked towards him, the clock ticking until your final goodbye, it was time.

"I love you Neuvillette, i always had and continue to do so." For the last time, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"I love you, darling from the very beginning and every single lifetime to come." He let go of the kiss and hugged you tight, closing his eyes, until you disappeared not knowing he was hugging his own.

Opening his eyes, the rain was long gone, and what remained were the flowers in the bushes, the ponds, the fish, and him. Maybe… just maybe he will bring you and the other victims to light.

Until then, this one last encounter and goodbye will make him content. He was sure… that finally his love will be at rest.

[talaok]

Hello!

I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.

Do you think you could write that?

summary: Pedro is a bad flirt

A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole

"please introduce me to her"

"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"

"because I can't"

"why?"

"please"

"fine"

__ __ __

It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.

Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.

“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.

Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.

Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.

Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.

“Y/n, did you know that?”

right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.

“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.

Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.

Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.

What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.

A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.

He fell into the friend-of-friends category.

He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?

"hi there, how's it going?" V asked

"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"

There it was, mystery solved.

V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.

Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.

"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.

A strange smile pulled at V's lips 

"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"

You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"

"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too" 

" Pedro's here to film a movie"

"are you?" you asked, interested

"yes, I- Uhm- I am" 

He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.

"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.

"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"

"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"

"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed

"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"

"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"

You shot Vanessa a glance.

"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.

"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"

His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.

"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.

You couldn't hide your confusion

"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing

"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.

"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"

"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"

"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.

"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.

Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.

Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.

However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.

"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.

"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.

"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.

Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.

"Don't say anything"

"I'm not"

"good"

there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.

She busted out laughing

"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke

"Shut up"

"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"

He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"

"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"

[rosie-writings]

Collapse Into Me

Request: anon— A honeymoon fic of Colby bringing his wife to Wales like he mentioned on Snapchat during their Europe trip

Summary: Wedding planning polarized you and your family, but it made you realize that Colby’s family is the one you were meant to be in.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, Dom/Sub dynamic, Bondage, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, and all the warm fluffy feelings

Words: 9k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Telomeres’ by Sleep Token

My hands were shaking, trembling to the bone, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to the cold in the air or that shrill in her voice.

“And so you think it’s a good idea, now?” My eyebrows pushed together at the sight of hers raising. “Of all times, now?”

”I mean, technically not-not now. In February.”

”February?” I didn’t think her voice reached that pitch, but of course it was me who could draw it out of her. “You’re giving yourself four months to plan a wedding? You’re so stupid.”

”Tell me why I’m stupid about this. You haven’t given me a valid reason; you’ve given me ridiculous reasons for why you think I’m stupid about other things, but not this.”

”Because,” she sighed with a twinge in her voice. My eyes grazed the stringy amber brown streaked blonde directionless curls at the end of her wavy hair. The last three inches of them should have been cut off months ago. “You of all people should know that it’s dumb behavior to have a ring on your finger three months into even entertaining the idea of being-of being stuck to someone.” My eyes fell flat.

I never liked the fact that I was five inches shorter than my cousin, but at this moment, I realized that she swung her height clunkily with those heels that used to be in my bedroom. My mom left them on my bed for me when she accidentally bought two sizes too big for herself. Of course I left them in my cousin’s car accidentally on purpose because why would a clan of near-six-foot-tall women leave a size ten shoe for the one who barely hit five foot four. 

“Okay,” my voice shook. “That kind of hurt actually.”

”Yeah; truth hurts. That’s how you know that this is the truth.” If that was the case, I could hurt her a lot right now. I would start with the fact that her eye color never really matched her beloved blue mascara, but that was neither here nor there.

”Well… I’d rather be stuck to him for the rest of my life than you guys.” I looked away and shoved down the burning in my throat. I continued the blame before she could gasp her pitiful response. “I mean, it’s true for you I suppose.”

”It’s true for anyone!”

”You-You hardly know what I want.” The scoff of her thick lips made mine push in a tight line.

”I’ve seen you under the sun enough to know that you’ve daydreamed about your honeymoon being at the beach.” Or maybe I simply day dreamed about a summer vacation without your squeaky voice cutting through the soothing sound of waves—

“I mean, you’re probably just projecting,” I sighed. “At least your skin keeps a tan. It’s just too much work for me to prioritize staying dark.”

“Yeah I know,” she said and I bit my tongue to conceal the roll of my eyes as if my eyes and tongue were connected. “Maybe I should just convince your mom to talk sense into you.”

”I mean, I’ve told her already and you’re the only one who’s given me this amount of shit about it.” Her eyes widened; they yielded a confrontation I wasn’t ready for. 

“Hm,” she sighed. Her eyes scanned me and it felt nice for her to be speechless if even for a second. “Well I still don’t like it.”

”And not everything’s about you.” This time her eyes rolled.

“Where are you even getting married? He has enough money to take you wherever you want and have it done.”

”Pf,” I scoffed because my stomach turned at the sound of her already expecting something from him. “Perhaps, but you damn well know I have enough money to bring all of us anywhere I want to go.” Her eyebrow rose. Only one of them.

”So you’re telling me he’s making you pay?”

”I don’t remember your opinion mattering when it comes to issues between a husband and wife, but go off I guess.” She audibly gasped.

”I’m telling your mom you said that.”

”Do it,” I challenged without blinking. She rolled her eyes. Her stupid car keys flicked over her hand. No one ever told her that the weight of all the senseless chains between far and few keys on the ring could ruin her ignition. She probably pumped her own gas once.

”I will.” She spun on her heel and walked over the edge of the curb. Her hand settled on the handle of that pristine Audi she bought last autumn. Well, she didn’t buy it; follow the money up the chain and it would come from YouTube into my bank account. “Also, I could never see you getting married in the dead of winter. You’d blend in with the snow and dead trees.”

I rolled my eyes because she didn’t know that it made me cry at night when my skin reddened from the unrelenting summer sun.

It didn’t even snow in Southern California.

”Hey,” he said, and the door of the car hardly opened all the way when the sweet sound hit my ears. Despite the tension in my throat, I stifled a wide smile.

”Hi,” I said as I sat down and closed the door. A flick of a millisecond long expression from him told me that I held my breath for too long when I said my greeting. 

“I’m guessing it went…”

”Yeah no,” I sighed as I released the tension in my throat. My fingers etched into the thick leather of his car. His hand found my thigh. My eyes still peeled out the window. “She’s an idiot. They all are.” He was quiet for a moment. Before a smile broke. God, I couldn’t look away from him even if I only drowned on half of his appearance. His eyes were on the road. 

“Sorry, but I anticipated that.” I shook my head.

It was September, and Colby and I got engaged almost a month ago. I waited to tell any of my family until now so that we could breathe and be excited by taking a break at work and partying with friends more than necessary. I knew that it would put yet another ringer between my women dominated family who each had expectations much higher than I did.

Well, my expectation of the actual person I was going to marry clearly was higher than theirs. Their primary focus was the wedding and who their bridesmaids were going to be and where the bachelorette parties would be and where the honeymoon—

Jesus Christ.

Maybe I was the second out of eleven of us getting married—I had three sisters and four first and three second cousins; all of us girls—because I wanted to get it over with. Maybe it sounded sad, and I kind of was, but this sadness was rooted in the stigma they inadvertently forced in me when I was young. I knew I didn’t meet their expectations when it came to the kind of dresses I liked.

Don’t get me wrong; I was no less materialistic than they were. I just liked making my own money and giving myself clothes and dresses devoid of color when I wanted to, unlike the ones their mothers and fathers threw at them in between whiny complaints. They dressed me up one time when I was sixteen; that was when the oldest was married at 25. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because there were too many of us, especially when combined with her two best friends. 

And I wasn’t the flower girl either because I wasn’t the youngest. But if she had asked me to be the flower girl, I would have dressed in a floor length black dress out of spite towards the embarrassment. 

The first time I would be in a wedding would be my own, and I was thoroughly happy about it.

I liked the way—that when Colby’s fingertips dragged up my leg to find my hand, and once found—his own rings clashed with the one he gave me. I also liked the fact that the first ring I ever accepted from someone was his, and also the fact that the first ring to be placed on his ring finger would be the one I would get him. Despite the dozens of rings that adorned his fingers at every second of the day, I knew he deliberately made vacant his ring finger, even if he never explicitly mentioned it. I noticed.

So now we were on the way back to his house. I suspected Sam was back from his morning responsibility and as were other friends considering the amount of food in the backseat. Colby must have picked it up right as he picked me up from the cafe I met my sisters at that morning.

We talked about the engagement at first, and I was smart enough to tell them in public so they couldn’t make too large of a scene. It was my sister who was the happiest. She was two years older than me; the oldest of us four. Two of the three cousins who decided to spend their time on me had to warm to the idea. It was my second oldest sister and the third cousin who stayed later after everyone else left to chew me out about it. 

I was saved by God herself when my sister said she was going to be late for work and left. My cousin didn’t get the memo and didn’t leave in her car until Colby’s had been sitting on the side of the road, since all the parking spaces were taken, for a solid minute. 

It felt like I could breathe everytime I stepped foot in their house. 

Once everything was settled, anyway.

Colby told me the night we were engaged, after the party and after we had been alone for two hours, that he would have proposed to me in the spring, but it took all those months to convince Sam that it was a good idea.

”I never expected you to be the one to convince Sam that marriage could be good; I thought it would be the other way around,” I told Colby when my thumb still twisted the engagement ring on my finger. He laughed.

”I don’t think it would have mattered who was getting married between us; the other one was bound to take months to come to terms with it.”

And I knew it had nothing to do with me. I love their friendship wholeheartedly; I had no complaints about it at all. 

“I really don’t hold any of that-that mess against you, you know?” I shook my head in faux annoyance.

”You don’t have to tell me that everytime I had a standoff with them about you,” I snapped. “I know you don’t. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“That’s a little much—“

”I mean, even though I fucking hate them sometimes—most of the time—I still couldn’t marry someone who seriously hates them. That’s for me and me only.”

”You take the brunt of them too much.”

”Yeah well,” I sighed as we got to the house, and thanked God for it. “Someone has to and at least I have the patience to not tear their family apart unlike our mothers.” He smiled, and I knew it had nothing to do with what I meant.

Their family, as in, I was already founded by another.

Wedding planning was nice when I was secluded with my friends and when I was with Colby; the anxiety of being without the rest of my family was forgotten. I knew I was different from them, but I didn’t realize how much I was until my own wedding planning turned into a mirror. I also couldn’t stop thinking about my oldest cousin’s wedding; maybe it was a blessing more than a curse that I didn’t have to wear one of those coral bridesmaid dresses that looked stuck in a 2015 Instagram feed.

I really didn’t look good in coral. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t chosen. Or maybe it was the fact that if I chose a dress that would cover my tattoos, it wouldn’t match her aesthetic.

It didn’t matter to me. None of them would be in my wedding.

I take that back; one would, and that was the one who cried when I FaceTimed her two weeks ago. Colby, even, invited her to a party of recent to which she declined but was thankful still for including her. She was a month younger than me. I threatened her to not tell the rest of our family. The fact that I told her was enough; I knew she wouldn’t. 

Maybe there was a certain decibel of venom on my tongue when I talked about my family to the boys, but I was too lethargic to say it to their faces. My family would expect yelling, arguing, and receipts, and at this point, I simply didn’t care enough.

I decided to save the energy for the week the world learned about who was in my ring of bridesmaids. 

“Good thing you only have a few months left of it,” Colby said a bit too happily. I smiled as we grabbed the food and walked into their full house. 

And a few months it was.

I dizzied at the sight of the makeup on my face. To be completely transparent, I tried this look on myself before and I thought I looked decent until a professional artist, obviously, made my version of the look more similar to a newborn digging through its mother’s makeup bag. Two days. Just two more days and it would be over. It guilted me that that was how I felt about wedding planning, but I just wanted to be alone. 

Alone with Colby; how was that different than being alone at this point?

Somehow, the weather caved as if it knew and obeyed the spite in my heart. Thick winterous clouds rolled in last night, and I couldn’t help but smile at them. No longer did I imagine a piercing blue sky over us in our wedding photos. I didn’t fully understand why it made me ecstatic to know that the weather would traditionally be not ideal for a wedding.

Maybe it was the fact that the earth gave me what I wanted.

My mother, three cousins, and one sister complained about how gross it was outside and how they wished the sky would clear up. I silently prayed it wouldn’t. I could have sworn the clouds turned grayer. I knew I wouldn’t get snow in Los Angeles, but my family was right about the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to handle the chill.

And I thought that fluke cool front in September was cold.

“What do you think?” I asked as my best friend walked in the room upon the makeup artist’s request.

”Stop,” she gasped and she smiled ear to ear until the burning I ever so hated coiled in my throat. “I fear I’m going to have to be a bitch to you tomorrow so that we won’t get all sentimental and cry it all off.”

”Good,” I snorted. “Because if I cry I’m punching you in the throat.” I held the mirror and looked at myself. It was the first time I wore makeup that mended with my skin tone. It didn’t look like I stole mud from the earth and rubbed in on my cool skin. I looked more alive and healthy than I did when my sister did my make up, and my heart sped at the idea that each of them would scowl at the eyeliner that might have been a millimeter thicker than the average wedding liner. I don’t know what it was; I didn’t do things out of spite all the time.

It simply looked like spite when I did things for myself.

I saved putting my dress on for tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came, my best friend tied it up for me. Or zipped it. Both, actually. 

The photographer snapped our intimate moments in the women’s getting ready room. My two other friends, my sister, and Colby’s sister including our moms who stopped by for no more than ten minutes accompanied. The silence was a blessing even though we were the furthest from actually staying quiet. I didn’t think I liked other human voices until I met my closest friends.

It ended before I convinced myself it started.

My stomach was in knots until I saw Colby that day, and then I remembered the rest. I blacked out when I was with him, always, and could only remember the things we kept between us. The rest of it didn’t matter. The morning mattered, but the nerves gnawed at them, and when we were together, who cared about the cousin gossiping rows away?

I heard his footsteps before his voice. He took his time, and I didn’t move.

I stood in the room that my bridesmaids and I readied ourselves in nearly an hour ago. 

My lips still buzzed from the feeling of his. We kissed far too many times to count, but it felt like this one counted more than the rest. 

He took more steps towards me.

I noticed my breath as my eyes still peeled out the window. The heavy winter clouds still hung low, and the trees around the venue were almost colorless aside from the nearly black bark that hung on through the stress of winter. The decorations took the place of snow, and I appreciated my best friend’s idea of having black and white be the colors for our wedding, because I couldn’t look away. The red roses displaced here and there warmed the ornate black iron chairs facing the altar, and I imagined what the semi outdoor and indoor reception space appeared like now that people and music filled it. 

He didn’t say anything by the time he stood behind me. His hands found my waist. I still didn’t move.

I knew he came to find me, primarily, but also prepared me for entering the reception hand in hand. I assumed all that was forgotten when he found me here, alone. I didn’t intend on being alone. After photos, my bridesmaids and I came up here to freshen up and they then went off to arrange our entrance. Colby did the same with his groomsmen.

“Fuck off; go find your wife we have business to attend to,” I read Sam’s lips. Colby laughed and didn’t question when a handful of them raced by with cans and markers in their hands. I watched them down below on the porch; butterflies filled me when Colby walked in the front door.

A breath dragged quickly between my teeth when Colby left a trail of slow kisses from my neck to my shoulder. The white lace of my sleeves hardly clung on my shoulder giving him much room. He didn’t take advantage of it for the sake of photos, but I knew he wanted to. I leaned back into his touch, but didn’t take my eyes off the window. 

The ceremony space was fully empty now; the last few guests made it to the reception space.

“As much as I’m contemplating taking you here and fucking you on every surface of this room, I’m not sure you would appreciate me messing up your makeup before we go to the reception.”

My face burned, oh it burned, I didn’t look at him or else his pestering smile would make it worse.

”Bring me downstairs then,” I laughed and turned to him finally. I hardly looked at him before his lips were on mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, ever pulling him tighter. I breathed him in as he tasted me.

Maybe my wine red lipstick was transfer proofed on purpose, but a tiny part of me wished it wasn’t because his new ring wouldn’t be the only symbol of claim on him.

”Come on,” he said, and his hand slipped in mine. 

I tasted him through the reception.

Through pictures, dances, cake, and conversations; I didn’t think a mouth could be so memorable.

”What?” I gasped when I butted in the boys’ conversation at the end. Sam looked at me with wide drunken eyes that buzzed from the thrill of the night.

”Uh—We were reminding Colby to just chill out and take a breath before seeing his car and probably have it washed before you do anything else or else he’d have to get a new paint job tomorrow.”

”Jesus Christ,” Colby laughed. 

And after we left the venue, we did just that. I didn’t know that shaving cream could eat away at car paint but there we were.

My ears rang after the car doors were shut, and my breathing caught in my chest.

We were alone. 

We had been alone and spent many nights sleepless and breathless, but none of them amounted to that night, that moment. I couldn’t pinpoint why, I just knew.

He didn’t say anything in the minutes it took to reach the freeway. My palm burned against his. His fingertips raced up my palm and invaded the lace that started at my wrist. Chills electrified up my arm from where his fingertips touched, and I didn’t move away from them. 

My head spun with every step, and before I knew it, we walked into the hotel suite booked if only for a handful of hours. Until our flight. I walked in, my breathing definitely not under control, and he haphazardly set our bags down. I felt his eyes on me, and before I could turn around, I heard his quick steps. I broke into a smile when his hands reached me, and he spun me around harshly for himself.

His hand held my face, and no longer was his touch filled with care for my appearance. No, it was filled with a vengeance to touch, to please, to get near. He licked into my mouth and I gave and gave, his hands didn’t leave any part of my body untouched, even as we stood there.

And then he fell to his knees.

My breath left me as he looked up darkly from where he descended. As I drew a breath to ask what he was doing, hands slowly snaked up my legs. 

“Colby,” I hummed his name. There wasn’t much of a skirt to my dress; it was more a-line than anything, but the thin layers of fabric were soft, durable. My skin crawled at the sound of it brushing against the sleeve of his thick jacket. He still hadn’t changed a thing about his appearance since the ceremony. Maybe his jacket came off at some point while dancing, but we could see our breaths in the air outside.

”Oh—“ I couldn’t contain my hums, moans, and noises as his fingertips trailed up my skin, and when he dove under my dress and used his mouth on me instead, I saw stars.

I couldn’t remember another word other than his name. I felt it too; the hum of his own moans against my thighs. What on earth took him so long? I was torn in two. A part of me needed to feel every part of him now, but the other wanted to stay here forever and let him touch and kiss every cell of my body.

The muscles in my stomach tensed the moment his fingers grabbed the top of one of the garters around my thigh and he snapped it back. My hand reflexively pushed his head and he laughed. I thought he would take it off, but no. His retaliation was shoving me by the hips to sit on the edge of the bed behind me. 

Instead, his lips and tongue dove right where I ached for him.

With a gasp, I tried to handle what I felt, but I couldn’t. He didn’t even move to take off the lace that was probably ruined with my arousal and had been for hours now. Then a few fingertips dipped behind the side of it and I preened at the feeling of his cool fingerprints in my unbearable heat.

“Colby—“ I gasped yet again, but he didn’t wait up. Two fingers dove into me. He knew how ready I was; he probably knew from the look in my eyes alone. Then he whispered something against me that I couldn’t make out. He shoved the lingerie out of his way, and I gasped at the tough stretch of the lace in my inner hip. His tongue was on me, his mouth worked me and sucked me sweetly as his fingers slowly moved in and out.

My head hit the bed as I gave up any power I had. 

Then he gasped and breathed heavily as he pushed my skirt up higher. It pooled across my hips, and I rose to my elbows so I could finally see his pretty face. It was flushed, and his eyes were dark and hazy.

Those hands grabbed my thighs, and the pressure fueled my lust must have left bruises in their wake. I yelled his name as he dove back down into me, and I finally was able to string my fingers through his messy hair. 

I chanted his name like a prayer and I felt moans and words in between my legs again. No part of me could find the mess he made of his mouth, my heat, repulsive in any way even though I know I would scrub us clean in a handful of time.

”Oh my god, I’ll come already,” I gasped. Of course this fueled his movements. My voice broke into higher whines, and he didn’t complain if I yanked on the roots of his hair too tightly.

He licked me through my orgasm even as I shook through violent aftershocks. 

He shot to his feet.

”Please—“ I gasped. His eyes didn’t come off mine as he unbuckled his belt. I did, though, I took my eyes off his eyes, and I launched forward. Even though it may have taken more time than if he did it, he allowed my excitement to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. I felt his gaze on top of me, and his hand stroked in alignment with the currents of my hair. It was pinned behind me loosely where rivers of strands wound elegantly.

My heart raced at the feeling of his rough, and respectfully gentle hand warmly brushing and leading me without messing up my hair. I wanted him to, though. God, I wanted him to ruin my hair.

Ruin my makeup. 

I pulled him from his pants, and a river of uneven breaths flowed from him. He hummed my name when I took him in my mouth.

”Just-Just want inside you,” he whispered. I ignored him and laced my gaze with his as I went down on him over and over. His eyes rolled back and my body surged deeper around him when pleasure overcame him. I might have gone faster, might have gotten ahead of myself— “Alright, alright,” he gasped. He grabbed himself and pulled me by the hair. I gasped when I came off of him.

He shoved me down to the bed. 

I looked up at him, and he didn’t move us. He didn’t take another article of clothing off us.

I couldn’t speak, and from the look in his eyes, he clearly couldn’t either. His heart raced; I could tell by the way his breath escaped him in and out unevenly. He shoved my lingerie to the side again.

Like every time his body mended with mine, he filled me to the brim. 

“Love you—“ He gasped so lowly I hardly heard him. “Mine, you’re all mine.”

”And you’re mine,” I whined when he thrusted harshly. We didn’t leave room for teasing. He didn’t want to waste another second—not that any of the many seconds of the day were wasted—but what else was each glance we sent each other on this day other than teasing, foreplay.

God, I undressed him with my eyes dozens of times today alone.

His hands raced down my legs, pushed them back and spread them further apart. Eyes tore me to shreds. His face strained with pleasure, and I had to hold onto the duvet tightly since I couldn’t read what I wished to.

”God—fucking—in the way—“ He cut himself off with a tear.

He didn’t want to take off any of my clothes, no, he wanted to savor the sight of this day on my skin, so he tore the side lace of the lingerie slightly so that he didn’t catch on the tightness of it. I gasped some tension released, and he was able to find better leverage.

”I love you, I love you—holy shit—you’re mine.” This time he leaned forward with one of my legs hooked over his arm.

”I’m yours,” I repeated.

”I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to stay filled with it until the morning,” he said. I thought his hand wrapped around my throat, but that was just my visceral reaction. 

“Colby,” I gasped his name breathlessly. “Need you in me forever.”

It was quick, and I didn’t realize until later how calculated it was.

After he filled me, he recovered me with the tight white lingerie—albeit slightly ripped now—and his release couldn’t slip out. My body trembled under his touch, his gaze, and he kissed me like he meant it at the altar. He always did.

”Sit up,” he gasped. I obeyed and looked up at him for the next direction. Instead of making a command, he walked over and sat behind me on the bed. His hands were hot and sweaty, his breath still quick. 

Then, his hands started working on the laces and zipper of my dress. It took him a second, but he learned and released me from the dress slowly. A part of me wanted to rush him, but this was it. The first and the last time he would take this dress off of me. When it was undone, his fingers uncovered my shoulders; fingers grazing my inked skin behind the falling lace.

Colby stood in front of me as I too raised to my feet and he pushed down my dress. I stepped out of it. When he went to worship the rest of my body that he neglected, I cut him off. I grabbed his face and kissed him. I savored his moans against my tongue before I licked into his mouth. His hands were on me. They fell down my bare sides, ran over the roughness of the lace lingerie over my hips, and raced back up over my shoulders, my chest.

I pulled away. 

Without looking away from the eyes I swam in every day, I loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then his jacket. 

My fingers worked and unclasped the buttons of his button up. With each one I unbuttoned, I kissed down his skin. I felt the way he shuddered under my breath, my lips, and I was reminded all over again the real effect I had on him. His heart beat erratically, his breath wavered.

I kissed all the way down his body until I was on my knees. The shirt slipped from his shoulders. He pulled from his shoes and pushed them away. Then I pulled his pants off fully; obviously they were already unbuckled.

He moaned my name, and somehow this was more intimate than him putting his cum in me.

”Come here,” he said before I could take his underwear off. I stood. He kissed me again, but he pulled me. His lips pulled me, his hands.

I followed him into the bathroom.

Looking back on it, every decision he made was calculated. He always allowed me my fun, but he never skipped a step or a plan. 

Colby flicked the light in the bathroom on and he pulled the stool at the wide granite sink away for me. I sat and looked at myself in the mirror. 

A flush matched my messy makeup and painted my skin. For as dressed as my hair and face were, my body sat completely bare. Naturally I considered cowering away, but he would never allow that. I froze as he stood behind me and ever so gently, began pulling the hair pins from my hair and setting them on the sink.

Pretty sure I melted then and there as if nothing that had just happened, happened.

I watched his face as he focused. With every pin, a strand of hair cascaded down my skin. Goosebumps spread over the touches. He kept the hair down my back and didn’t allow it in front of me. I knew that was on purpose; I would have covered my nipples with the strands.

When my hair was completely free, he left the bathroom.

”Colb—“ He immediately returned with my bag. He opened it. He grabbed the smaller bag inside of it knowing my brush and makeup remover were in it.

I could have been shaking from the chill in the bathroom, but I think it was from the warmth that pooled in between my legs in my underwear. I knew my eyes were darkened with thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror as he brushed my hair. 

The fact that his cum pooled in my underwear while he did the sweetest, gentlest thing he had ever done for me turned this into the filthiest memory I had.

He must have known that this memory would get me on his knees for him every day for the rest of our lives.

“Stop that,” he finally broke the very long silence. I don’t think we ever sat in such a long silence without one of us sleeping.

”Stop what?” My voice caught. We ignored it.

”Staring at me like you’re going to eat me or something.” I laughed.

”Obviously,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes away. He laughed at the heated blush on my face.

”God, you’re so beautiful. Insane in my hands.” He left the brush on the counter. “Take off your makeup and we’ll go lay down, okay?”

”Okay,” I nodded.

I knew he wanted to shower, but he wanted me to sleep with his cum in me more.

After I was finished cleaning my face, he shoved me back down on the stool. I gasped when he got on his knees in between my thighs. Darkly, his eyes glanced up at me for a moment and then he looked at my skin where he touched me.

As his fingers drenched the skin of my legs, he tugged the garter on my thigh off with his teeth. His breath left hot chills trailed behind.

When the early sun woke me up, I realized he purposely didn’t draw the curtains so we could wake up without an alarm but still on time. We woke up very much so on time; we didn’t need to leave for the airport for another three hours. It was six am. I opened my eyes and rolled to him. His body was on fire, and my skin writhed at the feeling of his hard he was against me already. Before he choked out his first word, I straddled him. 

“Baby,” he moaned, hands rested on my hips. I still wore my underwear like he wanted. His eyes fell down my body and landed on my underwear. “Off. Need these off now,” he demanded as he played with the frayed edges of the tear he caused. I raised my hips and pulled them down. His refreshed eyes didn’t miss a second of my body that was revealed from under the white fabric.

”Holy shit—“ he gasped, and that was how I realized we mixed—our fluids mixed—in between my legs and still connected my underwear to me. He didn’t spend another word. He threw the lingerie aimlessly and grabbed my hips with a force, a dominance, he didn’t use last night. I squealed as he yanked me back down on his lap. 

My eyes rolled back when we both thrusted my hips across him; up and down.

And when he filled me, when he shoved me down on him, I rode him until we both neared tears and more of his cum stuffed inside of me. The sun had barely awakened the city.

He washed my hair and my body in the shower that morning, and I was glad I woke us up so early so that our third round in seven hours was under that hot shower rain. It was less the rain that washed clean our mess between my legs and more his tongue. More within this night had he fallen to his knees for me than I could remember. So, naturally, I fell on my knees for him after.

We stood at the wide mirror and talked as we got ready.

Our flight to Wales was in an hour and a half.

And my stomach was in knots.

It was difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that this was the true start of the rest of our lives together, and not only that, we were on our way to an entirely different country alone to stay alone for a week without distractions. We’ve traveled together before, but I knew that nothing was about to compare to this.

Only through TSA did he pull his hand away from mine.

I didn’t even think about it.

Not even a millisecond of time was spent worrying about anyone else. Not our families, our friends, or our work took up a second of space in my head. I was torn apart for choosing the honeymoon location. While discussing it with Colby, we realized that we both already wanted to come here. He had been here with Sam before once while on their Europe trip. This country was simply romanticized in my head by the books I enjoyed.

The grass was infinitely greener than I anticipated considering the chilling weather. When I touched the grasses and blades of bristles that show from the soft earth, they weren’t soft or warm, and I snapped my hand back with a smile. 

The room was blue, I think; more windows spanned the walls of the bedroom than an actual expanse of drywall. The spindles of the bed were high and came together only a hair from the ceiling with white satin draped past the plush duvet. My fingers grazed the stitches in the duvet cover. He was behind me. 

I figured we would get accustomed to this house in a few hours. 

We would get accustomed to each others’ bodies again in the meantime.

First, his hands raised to my waist like they did so often.

Then he spun me around violently; that same gentleness must have run thin from our hours of travel. The sun set behind the horizon already and orange bands through the winter clouds were the only light in the dim room.

He kissed me again and without being able to see, my sense of touch was heightened to the max.

My back hit the bed and my pants slid down; I wasn’t sure which came first. The next thing I knew, he was over me, and his hand supported himself next to my head. I only made out his silhouette as my hands touched every part of it. 

“Oh fuck—“ he gasped when my hands harshly invaded the top of his pants before he could remove them himself. I couldn’t not say his name; at this point it was a habitual moan for me.

He kissed my neck and shoved my arms to the bed on either side of me. I didn’t even try to stop the embarrassing sounds that poured from me when he harshly fucked his hips into me at the same time that his teeth hooked on my skin. Now he could leave his mark. I knew he suffered the past month not being able to leave his love marks all over my body for people to see for the sake of photos. I yanked his shirt off forcefully before he dove back into tasting my skin.

He needed to make it up to me. There was a month of aggression, possession and need to touch, to claim. 

“Fuck me,” I demanded. His breath hitched in his throat and the pressure from his hips doubled. “Fuck me so hard, Colby. I swear to God—“

I screamed when he suddenly pushed into me and didn’t give me a second to process.

”No need to beg, baby,” he hummed; his voice darkly quiet in my hair. I didn’t remember when he pulled himself from his underwear or when he moved mine. It was all too fast. He fucked the moans out of me. I thought my vision went blurry.

He raised to his feet and I realized that this was the second time we hardly made it to the bed since being married. 

“Feel so good,” I whispered with moans broken by his thrusts.  

“Get up,” he demanded. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. It was all too much. “Get up,” Colby spat and his hand linked around my neck and he yanked me up. I gasped and open mouthed kisses shared between our panting breaths. I rolled my hips into him and his eyes shut tightly.

”Turn over.”

Shaking gasps poured from me from the fire lit butterflies that those simply words shoved down my throat. I turned over. My knees almost fell to the floor, but he hoisted me up and shoved back into me.

”Oh my god, Colby!” And a loud lengthen moan streamed from him. I balled the blankets in my fists when he raised one of my knees onto the edge of the bed for a better angle. 

I didn’t just see blurry, stars and colors swirled behind my eyes as well.

”Holy shit, my pretty wife, taking me so well.” I could have passed out from his words alone. Then his fingers grabbed me by the roots of my hair.

He yanked. My back bent backwards and I felt him push kisses and moans against my head, my neck. God, it was so rough too. It had only been a month since the last time he fucked me with that desperation of wanting to leave a piece of him inside, but it felt like the first. His other hand left bruises and purple crescent moons in my hips, my ass.

”Fucking hell—Get up, lay on the bed,” he finally broke and pulled out of me. So of course I scrambled to lay my head on the pillows naturally if it meant he wouldn’t be inside of me again until I obeyed. I watched as he grabbed things from his bag. “Will you give me your wrists?”

”Fuck,” I gasped and my hands shot above my head. “Yes, yes, yes.” And he laughed at my enthusiasm. He tugged my shirt off. 

A gasp sucked through his teeth fast enough that I knew they burned from the chill.

Even in the dark, his eyes devoured the way my fair skin contrasted with the dark lingerie that laced over my chest. He yanked my pants off the rest of the way and his eyes fell lower.

”You wore this all day?” He gasped.

”I put it on when I went to the bathroom in the airport.” A deep breath slowly left him. Then he leaned over and clicked on the lamp that sat on the table next to the bed.

The orange glow drenched my body, and I writhed under his intense gaze. I knew he ripped the thick lace apart in his mind. I waited and waited for him to actually do it.

Instead, he grabbed something he laid on the bed a second ago. The world stopped spinning when he lifted his wine red tie and wrapped it around my hands and a portion of the frame of the bed below the headboard. My heart was in my throat; the same tie he wore when he sealed our marriage with a kiss in front of our closest friends and family was now the fabric that tied me down to his bed. Our bed. It didn’t matter what physical bed we were in; it was ours.

”Pull, baby,” he sighed. The way his voice was smooth like he talked me to sleep as if he wasn’t tying me down thinking of all the ways he could rip my clothes off. I tested the makeshift cuffs but we knew it didn’t matter; he was entirely proficient in tying me down.

Fingers started at my throat and they painfully slowly dragged down my skin. Chills waved down my cold skin in their wake, and he rounded my heat and followed the band of lace that dipped an inch lower down my rib cage. The strap of matching lace around my waist that hooked onto my matching underwear were what his eyes drowned on next. He tugged on one of the stretchy bands that connected them and snapped it back. I winced.

”You’re going to kill me,” he simply said. I nodded like that’s what I intended. 

I held my breath when he picked up my vibrator from the bed.

”Colby—“

”Sh,” he said with finality. The vibrator hummed to life. “You’re not about to tell me what to do, right?” I shook my head furiously.

He shoved it against me over the lace.

I gasped and my back arched. His hand held my side; thumb stroked across the lace.

”So fucking hot, holy shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

”Why-Why are you holding back?” I moaned.

”You don’t want me to? I won’t be nice.”

”Tear me apart, Colby.” His eyes darkened, unblinking. “Do you not want to use me? Claim your wife?” His nails jutted into my skin and I gasped a moan.

He turned the vibrator onto the highest setting.

I screamed. My eyes rolled to black as the pleasure washed over me—more so drowned me under tons of ocean weight—and he firmly held my hips down and pressed it tighter against me.

”You want me to use you?” My skin crawled. His voice still hardly trespassed a whisper. “How could I expect anything else from my slutty wife, hm? Tied to my bed, dressed like a whore, and begging for me and teasing me with that filthy mouth?” 

“Colby—“ I gasped with a shaking seriousness.

”What? Realizing you bit off more than you could chew?”

”Colby—“ I warned him, loudly this time.

”Cum,” he demanded. “You wanna act like my slut? Then cum for me.” 

That’s what I warned him about; I was too glad that he demanded from me what I couldn’t control.

My climax blinded me and the pleasure only lasted for a breath before overstimulation stung me. He didn’t budge though. Not as I writhed, kicked, and tried to twist away from him.

”You fucking kick me again and I’m tying your legs down too.” I couldn’t even respond to that jeer. His voice picked up now and a sick part of me couldn’t get enough of it.

“Please,” I begged. “Can’t breathe—“

”You know our safe word,” he teased. My mouth closed. He scoffed. “What I fucking thought. Just a dumb slut who wants me to ruin her.”

“I’ll be so-be so good for you, please! Your fingers—Give me your fingers, please!”

”God you sound so pretty crying for me to fill you,” he sighed as his head lulled to the side. Completely enthralled; his eyes only blinked as much as necessary.

Moving my underwear to the side just enough for his fingers, Colby’s lips parted as he teased my slick entrance.

”Plea—“ He pushed three inside of me. “Oh shit,” I gasped. “Oh shit, yes, yes please.”

”You love it, hm? Love it when I fill you? Fuck you senseless?”

”Yes! I love it, I love it so much.” I tightened around him when the waves of pleasure built again. He shook his head quickly before the words even started.

”Don’t cum.”

”What?” I gasped. “Col—“

“No, I said don’t cum. You told me you wanted me to fill you and fuck you, so how about you take it first? Then maybe I’ll be nice if you cry hard enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tears already flooded my eyes.

Colby leaned over me. His lips hovered just out of reach. They parted as if he breathed too heavily to contain himself, and a parted smile shined down at me when I couldn’t gather myself. I whined when I couldn’t kiss him or touch him or reach him. I could only feel him the way he wanted me to.

”Please,” I gasped quietly.

”Please what?” His soft voice whispered. My eyes shut tightly, a tear fell. I wouldn’t be able to see that cute smile and listen to that gentle tone without imagining his fingers fucking me harshly and his other hand pinning a violent vibrator against me.

”Let me cum.”

”You’re not demanding me to let you cum, are you?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed with question.

”N-No, please, Colby, please let me cum on your fingers, please.”

“Aw you sound so sweet, baby, trying to sound like my good girl?” The teasing made it unbearable. Yes, the vibrator made me lose my sense of self, but that venomous teasing gave it to Colby. Everything that I am was in his hands, his control.

“Yes! Been so good for you let me-let me cum already I can’t-I can’t control it—“

”Good thing you’re not supposed to,” he said. “I’m the one who tells you when to cum, okay?”

”Yes-Yes Sir, you-you—Please! I’m so good for you, wait-wait for you—“ I lost control of my voice.

The pain from the overstimulation dissipated.

My hands didn’t pull on the restraint anymore.

Colby kissed me sweetly. His lips and tongue left soft kisses down my neck.

”Yeah, that’s right, good girl,” he whispered calmly. He moaned and looked down in between us before he rose to his knees again. “You’re so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect. Fucking cum—oh my god—cum for me, baby,” he finally told me. And I let go.

I moaned his name and I fully relaxed into it, into the pain and the pleasure, and everything he gave me. I knew I drenched him. I added to our mess. I couldn’t tell if he lost control of himself or if I blacked out, but the next thing I knew, he finally filled me again.

”Holy shit—Colby—“ I cried. Finally his moans met my ears, and I almost crashed into that pool of pleasure all over again.

He fucked me as harshly as his fingers just had, and I watched his sweaty face twist in pleasure through blurry tears. 

His free hand moved to my throat; his forearm rested on my chest for support. I whispered his name. Another warning.

”You going to cum one more time for me, my love?” He gasped breathlessly. “I’m so close, will you cum with me?” I nodded quickly even though I didn’t want this to end. I lost track of time when his body made itself home in mine. ”Oh shit!” He finally broke and raised himself to his knees. 

I watched as he raced a hand through his hair; fingers tugging at the roots as his eyes watched where he entered me.

”Cumming—“ I cried and his eyes flicked to mine for a moment.

The height of my orgasm hit me then he pulled out. I rode it out on the vibrator as his moans became music in my ears. He finished himself off; painted me with his release.

It took work for me to hold my eyes open. Between the pleasure and the way he looked painting me with his cum, I couldn’t really believe there was a heaven better than this one.

And he turned the vibrator off.

He sat on his knees in between my useless legs and panted. 

I didn’t object when he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and took a flashed photo high enough to capture his chest down to my ruined body and my hands tied up to the bed. I opened my eyes when the flash was over and he fell over me; hand supported him next to my head. He showed me the photo with bated breath.

My throat coiled in on itself at the disgusting filth he captured. He was still enticingly hard, flushed pink, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight of his cum ruining my lingerie. My mouth watered at the pearly streaks of white that contrasted on the black lace and black ink on my fair skin under the lingerie. The red of his tie only enhanced the flush over my skin. Thin faintly black tears raced down my face.

I was a mess.

A disgusting mess that somehow made my knees weak all over again.

”You’re such a good artist, husband.” The phone fell to the blanket under us as he burst out laughing.

His thumb linked under my chin when he kissed the life out of me.

”Needed to at least put my signature on my work, yeah?” I laughed back at him and he planted more kisses on me. Then he untied my hands. 

They fell to the bed and my eyes widened. I still hadn’t gained much control over my body.

”It’s okay,” he whispered and brushed my hair, my sides.

”I know,” I sighed as I rose from my subspace. 

“I’m right here, love. Always right here.” He kissed my skin as I came to.

”Is it gross that I don’t really want to shower?” Colby laughed again.

”I’m not sure,” he teased and sat back to his knees to look at my body again. “I mean, if you take a shower with me I’ll wash you for you.”

”Yeah, with your tongue like you did this morning?” A fond smile.

”I’ll wash you, I’ll touch you, and I’ll make you feel good however you want, my wife.” I smiled. We both couldn’t get used to—get over—the titles.

”Fine, then carry me to the bathroom, my husband.” 

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

[peachesofteal]

First Sight

Chapter 1 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. Reblogs, comments, likes, interactions, etc are cherished by me. 🖤

Simon Riley/female reader 5.9k words - AO3

Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, PTSD, thigh riding, Simon talks you through it, praise kink, explicit sex, jealousy, possessive Simon, angst, tenderness, mentions of blood and violence, nightmares, childbirth, medical procedures, Simon is bad at feelings; Simon is learning how to have his feelings. Simon has felt this before.

“And you are?” 

“I’m her… I’m the baby’s father. We had her information updated two weeks ago, at the office. I’m listed as her emergency contact.” The doctor looks skeptical but taps a few keys on her laptop before she glances back to him. 

“Last name?” 

“Riley.”

“Sorry, Mr. Riley. She’s been my patient for nearly seven months, and I’ve never seen or heard of you.” Bloody hell. His jaw clenches together so hard he thinks his teeth might shatter. 

“I’ve been overseas.” The lights and sounds are scratching under his skin, making him tense, priming him for a fight. “I came in on the ambulance with her... I have to be with her. She can’t be alone when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t… she has P-.” 

“I am aware of her history.” The doctor snipes and his fist tightens, tendons curling until his hand becomes a weapon, not thing the of comfort it was a mere ten minutes ago. 

“Look. I’m on her list. So you can let me back there or-“ She holds her hand up to silence him and the vein in his forehead pulses. 

“I’ve already paged a tech to bring you to her room, Mr. Riley. It’s just going to be a few minutes.” She gives him a reproachful look before she says something about coming by to check on you shortly, and he lets out a long breath.

You’re somewhere else. Your eyes are trained on the e-reader in your hand, but they’re not moving across the screen. You’re not blinking. Your breathing is even, and deep, but your fingers are fisted in the blanket, and your gaze is burning a hole through the bed, through the floor, possibly right down to the core of the earth.

It makes Simon nervous.

Not because he is afraid of your PTSD.

He is afraid of you slipping away. Sometimes, you leave and come back a different girl, the guarded one, the one that hasn’t tried to forgive him, the one who is reliving the pain he caused her every second. The one who takes your place when you disappear right in front of him, who’s memories burn too bright.

He knows he may never be fully absolved in your mind, but you still show him mercy. You still let him in, still let him have you, except in the moments when you fall through his fingers like tiny grains of sand. Those moments may have been earned, but it doesn’t make their sting any less painful, and he struggles in throes of them.

“Sass?” He calls, cautiously, reaching for where your hand is clenched. His fingers graze the sheets, the softness of the fabric much like your skin. They must be expensive, he figures, the cotton luxurious against the rough scrape of his palm. He thinks he likes the color, the soft green that matches the chair and the trim in the baby’s room. “Glacial green,” you correct him every time he calls it light green, or blue green, or pea soup. It’s a natural tone, earthy, and you seem to gravitate towards it, always telling him you think the color is ‘soothing’ or ‘calming’. You have a few shirts and sweaters in the same palette too, and an old, faded sweatshirt that you used to wear when you were with the 141, worn out lettering stitched across the chest. It was too big for you then, always drooping below the flare of your hips, the hem stretched out and curled. Now, it pulls snugly across your middle while you lay in bed beside him, where the e-reader sits in your dainty fingers. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it, keep your fingers so velvet and smooth, even after your years in the desert. “Sass.” He tries again, louder, squeezing with the lightest bit of pressure until you blink.

“I’m here.”

“I know.” You turn your face up towards him with a sleepy smile, and he reaches for you without hesitation. “Tired?” He murmurs into your hair, your nose just slightly smashed into his neck.

“Mmm. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.” He finds the light easily, pulling the room into darkness with a flick of the chain, and returns to press his face to yours before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

“I mean, did you get a good look at her?”

“Shit. I’d bury my face in that ass. EOD is air force, right? Think she’s got a landing strip?”

“Dunno but I’d be coming in for a landing all the time if she was on my squad.” The table of privates laugh to each other, and Simon’s fingers curl around the bottom of the beer bottle in front of him. He briefly considers, for a moment, if Price would dismiss him if he broke it over one of their heads and then used the shards to slit the rest of their throats. Bleed ‘em out right there on the table. 

He shifts on the stool. Johnny gives him a skeptical look. One of them, says something else. Sounds a little like ‘tight’ and ‘pussy’ strung together. Another one snickers. 

He’s on his feet behind them before anyone realizes. The low drone of rage pressurizes inside his skull. 

“Want to share what’s so funny, private?” The table falls silent immediately, all of them staring up at him, dumbfounded.

“N-nothing’s funny, sir.”

“Ya sure about that?” Johnny chimes in before Simon can say anything. 

“The bomb tech, we were just… appreciating her. Saying how nice it must be nice, having something like that to look at all the time.” Simon can feel the heat of Johnny’s gaze on the nape of his neck.

“The bomb tech outranks you, private. You will address her as Sergeant.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

When he gets back to the base and little house the 141 is crammed into, you’re already asleep in your room. Sprawled across the shitty thin mattress, your shirt rucked up around your stomach, little boyshorts riding the curve of your hips. The scar from Belize is still shiny across your ribs, peachy and puckered. The sight of you safe and sleeping soothes the raw buzzing of anger in the back of his head. 

His girl. His. 

He’s already got his hands all over you by the time he gets his boots off, and you shift a little when he presses his face into the top of your ass. 

“Simon?” you mumble. “Y’okay?” Simon, Simon, Simon. It’s always Simon with you now. You’re constantly stripping him bare with it, and he doesn’t even know your name.

He teases a hand across your skin, over the scar and up under the peak of your breast to your nipple, where he rolls the already hardening bud between his fingers. You shudder with a moan, shoulders twisting to turn yourself on your back, but he stops you. His teeth find the swell of your ass, and he sinks them deep. You squeak. 

“Can you hold still?” He says, your body answering for you with a shiver. The bite woke you sharply, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. 

He pulls the underwear down your legs until they disappear, and then sinks his fingers into your cheeks. The glisten of your cunt shimmers, already wet, already waiting for him. 

“Scoot back, sweet girl. Up on your knees.” You do as he says, shimmying down until you’re pressing against his thigh, clit ghosting against the fabric of his jeans, just barely. Your hips are shifting, slowly, and he knows you’re trying to get just a little bit more friction. He leans over you, gloved hand in your hair. “Now be good for me and rub your desperate little clit on my leg until you come.” You shake your head no and he rears back, pulling off his shirt and gloves, leaving the mask and his jeans the only thing on his body. He slaps you across your ass, just hard enough to watch the skin turn under his palm, and you jolt with a moan, cunt pushing back against his leg. “Do you want me to give you my cock, Sass?” you nod frantically. “Then ride my thigh until you’re coming on it.” The curve of a smile, a smirk, pushes at your cheek, and you start to move your hips, slowly at first, and then fevered, chasing your high while he watches. “That’s my girl, just like that.” 

You start to jerk erratically, your face screwing up into the little pout and he knows you’re close. “You going to come Sass?” You mewl pathetically, mouth making desperate sounds and he watches you rub yourself all over him. “Sweet girl. That’s it, just a little more. There you go.” Your gasps reach a fever pitch, and he groans. “Ride it out, good girl. Come all over me.” His jeans are smeared with you, but he praises you, telling you how good you were, how much he likes that you made a mess on him. Once you come down from it, he strips and presses himself along your back, rucking the balaclava up to his nose to pull the skin beneath your ear between his teeth. He wants to mark you, hard. Leave an impression of himself on your body, brand you down to your bones. Tomorrow, when those fuckwit privates line up for brief, he wants them to know. 

He sinks into you as deep as he can, little noises coming from your mouth as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt so tight it feels like it’s choking him.

“Si-Simon.” It’s his name, again. You’re flaying him alive with it. When you say it, it feels like he’s not wearing the mask, it feels like he is Simon, and not Ghost. He’s becoming addicted to it, consumed by it. It makes his head foggy, makes him do things that he’s never done, like approach a table of infantry and scare them out of running their mouths, or mark you like you belong to him. You cloud his judgement. You make him want things, things he doesn’t deserve, things he could never have. You make him soft, and desperate, and when you turn and look over your shoulder as he slams himself to the hilt, your gaze burns into him like you’re seeing him. Like you know. 

“Please, don’t.” Your voice breaks as you beg, clutching the baby to your chest. Your face is bruised, nose probably broken, and tears stream down your cheeks. You’re trembling, eyes desperate as you plead. “Simon. Simon, get up. Please, get up.” He tries, but he can’t. He is beaten. His body is broken, bones shattered, organs bleeding out slowly inside him. The cool metal kiss of a barrel presses to your temple and you scream at him, for him, he’s not sure anymore. “SIMON GET UP.” His body weighs a thousand pounds, and cannot lift himself to help you, to save either of you. The gun cocks, and you close your eyes right before the finger on the trigger moves, the bang echoing across the room and your-

He jerks awake, immediately seeking the warmth of your body next to him in bed. When he feels you, his chest loosens, and you shift onto your side, cracking an eye open.

“Hey.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but still sweet as honey, and he takes your hand in his. Your pulse flutters under his palm. Strong. Stable.

“Hey.”

“Nightmare?” He nods.

“Go back to sleep.” You roll your eyes, flicking on the light that sits at your bedside table.

“I’ve been sleeping forever, I am practically sleeping beauty at this point.” You stroke through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “Wanna talk about it?” you whisper, and he shakes his head. Yeah, Sass. Want to hear all about how I keep dreaming of your bloody corpse? Or about how I keep seeing you and our son being murdered right in front of me, over and over and I’m powerless to stop it? That’ll do real well for your stress level. Instead, he smooths his hand over the swell of your belly, where the baby sleeps, warm and protected, safe from everything out here that might hurt him. “You promised.” You needle, and the slight push is all that’s needed to relent.

“I keep… dreaming of you dying. Or being killed, in front of me. You and the baby.” You sit up a little and he immediately pulls the second pillow down behind the small of your back for support.

“Dying how?” He swallows.

“Someone’s holdin’ a gun to your head and you’re begging me to save you, but I can’t. I’m lying on the floor, bleeding out.”

“Sounds pretty scary.” There are a lot of things, that he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud to you yet. Promises and pledges, thoughts about being grateful and feelings of adoration. He wants to tell you how much he appreciates that you listen to him, that you validate him, but the words never come out, so he presses a kiss to your forehead before sliding down so his head is resting on the side of your belly.

The memory of the dream skips across the forefront of his mind, and he can still see you lying in a pool of blood, little boy lifeless in your arms. The blood, that looks just like the blood that covered the walls and the floor of his family’s house. His mom’s blood. Tommy and Beth’s. Joseph’s. The blood, that looks just the same as it did when he found you unconscious a few weeks ago, smells the same as when it poured out of the wound in your stomach in Belize. The blood, the blood, the-

“Simon.” He doesn’t even realize he’s breathing harshly until he hears you saying his name. “Hey, Si. Simon, it’s alright.” You stroke up and down his arm, tracing a faded pattern in his sleeve. “You’re here, in my house. In my bed. With me. There is no danger.”  

“With you.”

“With me. And the baby. We’re here, together. We’re safe.” He turns his head, pressing his ear to your skin. Swoosh swoosh swoosh. The heartbeat soothes the frayed edges of his nerves, and the two of you sit just like that for a while, content. “Shit.” You groan, the sound a low whisper, and anxiously rub your belly. He waits for what he knows is coming, the pure, sweet melody that you hum when you try to settle the baby. The once guilty pleasure, when he would stand just out of sight so he could hear it, is now a full indulgence, as he’s able to lay beside you and rub circles into your skin while you hum softly.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you gasp in surprise.

“Sass? What is it?”

“I… I think I peed myself.”  

“Hey!” No. How did you find him so fast? “Simon, wait.” When you say his name, it jams into his brain, scrambling the signal, and forcing his steps to falter. It’s just enough for you to catch him. “Look. I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up.” You’re breathing heavily, probably from sprinting down the row of tents that he had ducked past, and you push your hands out in front of you like you’re trying to cage him in. “But I made sure Gaz was alright, and I still had a job to do! Those charges were my priority, I wouldn’t have split up otherwise. Simon, I understand-“ He cuts you off swiftly.

“You can address me by my call sign, Sergeant.” You startle. He looks away, looks anywhere else but your face, where your gaze waits to peel him open. 

“What?”

“You will address me as Ghost, or Lieutenant.” 

You’re guarded now, expression wary, but there’s still something hopeful in your eyes, something that’s calling him home to you.

He has to get away. Now. 

You take an uneasy step forward, hand extended like you’re going to touch him. 

“Simon.” You whisper. 

He steps back. 

Your face falls. 

He’s tactical about it. The bag, the extra pillow, your shoes. A phone charger, the collection of snacks you’ve been hoarding recently, like a dragon hoards their gold. He remembers everything.

Almost everything.

His phone rings when he’s buckling his seatbelt.

“So, should I like, call an uber or are you going to help me get in the truck?” Bloody hell. He nearly beats his head against the steering wheel before he’s unbuckling and running towards the door. You’re standing in the living room, hands on your hips, unimpressed, with a hint of a smile on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I-“ you wave him off, reaching for his arm.

“Come on, you gotta boost me up.”

His eyes dart back and forth from the road, to where you sit, stone-faced in the passenger seat. You’ve been quiet since he pulled out of the driveway, the silence an uneasy thing that rests heavily between the two of you, and he reaches for your hand that lays limp on the seat.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” You’re chewing on your lip, still lost in thought for a moment before you speak again. “Simon. If something happens…” his blood freezes.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“We’ve never discussed it though. What to do if something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Something has already gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. It can’t get worse. It can’t. 

“Well, if there are complications and we have to choose…” He almost pulls the truck over, his heart seizing in his chest like he’s been electrocuted. A million scenarios slam through his brain at record speed, flipping open in front of him like a picture book. Everything he’s imagined before, but worse. This time, it’s not mercs, or a stray bullet, or shadowed government assassins that take you away from him, but your own body, or a doctor, or-

No. He would not be without you if there was a choice. Not again. 

“There is no choice, Sass.” His voice is gruff, and you palm your belly with a gulp. “We… I, would choose you. A million times. A million and one. There is no other choice… for me.”

“Okay.” You whisper. A tear rolls down your cheek before it’s hastily wiped away, and you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” He echoes, taking your hand in his.

You almost died. You almost died, and he wasn’t there. Johnny almost died, and you almost died, and he can’t stop thinking about the two of you wandering around trying to find the 141, trying to escape without a weapon, or comms, or anything. He can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were, how close you came to being dead. Being gone. Like everyone else. Like his family. 

The feeling fills his body with ice. It paralyzes him before panic seizes his nervous system, pouring fear into every synapse flitting through his brain. 

His family. You could have been lost, like his family.

He barges through the door of the office, eyes wild behind the mask.

“I need her gone.” Price looks up at him, perplexed.

“Who?”

“Sass. Transfer her. Put her on leave. Anything.”

“What are you on about?”

“I can’t… I can’t have her here. She’s fuckin’ with my head.” His chest feels tight, like there’s a thousand pounds sitting on his ribcage. It’s terror that is pumping through his veins right now, unbridled, and raw, threatening to wreck him where he stands.

“Ghost, calm down.”

“I can’t!” It’s practically a shout. He’s losing it. The empty echo of the dead radio replays over and over in his head. The image of Johnny, bleeding out, slumped against your small frame, the panic on your face, the two of you covered in blood loops repeatedly every time he closes his eyes. It melts into the memories of finding his family dead and then twists together, over and over until he thinks he might be hallucinating. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” Price is standing now, voice calm, gesturing to the other chair. He’s not a loose cannon, not anymore, but it’s been a long time since he’s raised his voice at the captain. Guilt swells inside him.

“I’m fuckin’ her.” He paces in front of Price’s desk. “And it’s… She’s messing me up. Can’t think clearly.”

“You’re what now?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never asked you for anything-”

“Simon-“

“and I know this is unfair. She’s great at her job, Price I know that. But I have the seniority. And I need ya to do this for me.”

“I can’t just dismiss her. I brought her here, asked her myself.” He grits his teeth.

“Price…  she….” His lungs are screaming now, his breath coming in short gasps but there’s no oxygen in this room. “It’s not… I can’t. It’s not safe.” 

“Simon, sit down.” It’s an order, and he complies, slumping into the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “Now. Start from the beginning.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“You said I would be able to try.” You doctor is sitting on a chair at your bedside, across from Simon. She’s wearing a very serious expression, and you’re wearing your ‘don’t fuck with me face’, the one he’s seen time and time again, before and during ops. You open your mouth to argue with her again, but a contraction steals your breath, your nails sinking into his skin like tiny razorblades.

“Just breathe.” He soothes, stroking over the crown of your head until you fall back onto your pillow, tense lines of your forehead relaxing as your eyes close.

“If the placenta separates any further from the wall of the uterus during the rest of your labor, it could be life threatening for both you and the baby.” She doesn’t handle you with kid gloves, and you lift a lid to glare at her. He swallows the chuckle in his throat. Surefire way to catch a fist in the jaw. 

“Fine.”  The word is hissed through clenched teeth, and she pats your hand reassuringly.

“They’ll be some paperwork to sign, and then we’ll get you prepped. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours, right?”

“I’ve been in labor for the last seven and a half hours, so no.” you deadpan, before looking longingly over to your bag of snacks. The doctor glances at him with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Riley, you’ll need to change, we can… hopefully, provide you with scrubs that fit. We’ll also give you a surgical mask, and a cap. Sound good?” He nods in thanks as she leaves, and he turns back to you, pulling the mask down to his chin to rest his cheek against your palm. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not gonna pass out in there, right?”

“Me?”

“Well, they are going to pull my guts out.” What?  You giggle, just a little, and heave a sigh. “But seriously. Don’t faint. I don’t think they have gurneys big enough for you.”

“I’ve seen plenty of guts, Sass.”

“Yeah…but not mine.”

Price announces his presence with a knock. “Heli’s almost here.” Simon says nothing. His elbows dig into his knees, fingers rolling the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger, strands of your hair wrapping around and around the tie until they become tight, little strings that make indentations. “Ghost.” He knows what Price wants. What he wants to hear. He still says nothing. “I did this for you against my better judgement.” Price says, like he doesn’t already know. When Simon looks at him, he sees the weight of their decision. The shame. The guilt. And he feels it, too. “You should say goodbye, Simon.” 

His voice is rough, on the verge of a scream, or something worse when he finally speaks. 

“I can’t.”

“So, when you get in the room, you’ll notice she’s lying on a table, and there’s a drape that’s a visual barrier between her chest and the rest of her body.” The nurse, the super friendly one that you said you liked, is talking him through what’s happening while he walks down the hallway next to her. Her shoes squeak a little bit against the linoleum, and he focuses on the pattern of the sound. Step squeak, step squeak, step- “Now, she can’t feel anything, but C-sections can be nerve-wracking, and she got a little anxious when we got into the OR.” He nods. Of course you’re nervous. You’re strapped to a table where they’re about to cut a hole in your abdomen. “She’s asked for you a few times, I promised I’d deliver.” She gives him a wink and pushes open a door. “Here he is!” She calls cheerily, and you turn to look, eyes finding his within a second, like always.

“Simon.” You wiggle your fingers towards him, and he wastes no time, sitting in the chair that the nurse pointed to and bringing your hand to the mask, right where his lips are.

“Hi sweet girl. You alright?” You nod.

“I think I’m a little high.”

“She had just a bit of midazolam, for the nerves.” Your doctor says from the other side of the drape.

“That’s alright.” He smoothes some hair from your face and tries to remember to breathe. Everything about this room sets him on the edge, and there’s a live wire running through his bones, all the way down to where his hand holds yours. There are too many people, too many lights, machines, and his skin is crawling, the desire to snatch you from the table and disappear down the hall repeating in the back of his mind, again and again. He can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong, terrible scenarios that leave you dead or the baby dead, or both. They push and pull at the logical side of his brain, fighting to get through, desperate to derail him, insistent and-

You smile up at him, all sweet, a little daft from the drugs, and everything feels quiet again. The tension between his shoulder blades lets out like air from a balloon, fast and easy.

“You ready?” He thumbs at a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. You’re looking at him, looking beneath the mask, kicking and tearing past the pieces of Ghost until you strike true, until you reach Simon. You always do.

He pushes his forehead against yours, and breathes you in, the stench of sterile hospital and all.

“Yeah, Sass. I’m ready.”

He’s pulling the balaclava back over his face when you bust through the door and ram right into him. He recoils, the reaction second nature, and his eyes find yours in the little bathroom mirror immediately. You step away, the room stretching too big all the sudden, the distance between his body and yours too far, and his brain stumbles over the realization. Something stutters in his chest, his breath catching when he looks at you, watching as you flail before you look away. 

“Shit! Fuck. Sorry.” You glance at the wall, then the floor, then turn to run before he figures out how to make his mouth work. 

“You’re alright, Sass. I’m finished.” You’re standing half in the hall, half in the bathroom, bleeding, and something twists in his gut. Blood and injury are not uncommon in the 141, but he’s surprised at how unsettled he feels when he sees the trickle of red on your shoulder. 

“Get that cleaned up.” It comes out rough, like an order, and your throat bobs with a swallow.

“Okay a little bit of pressure and then you’re going to feel a lot of relief.” The doctor says and you nod, fingers pressed into his palm.

“Simon.” Your voice wavers.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, willing himself to get lost in the hue of your irises, tuning out everything else in the room until-

A baby cries.

“Congratulations mom and dad!” Someone calls and the room spins. Mom and dad. 

“Can I see him?” your fingers are still entrenched in his, the words watery and light.

“Breath sounds are good.” A voice says, and then there’s a squalling baby next to him. A baby. Your baby. His. 

“Oh. Oh.” You’re in shock, he thinks. He’s not sure, because he might be too, and he blinks rapidly as you place a few fingers on the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Theo.” You coo and cry, smiling through the tears that dot your face. The nurse says something to you, and then she places the baby on your chest, where you cradle him with your other arm, pulling Simon’s hand up towards Theo’s back for support, holding it against his skin. You glance up at him for a second, teary happiness morphing into concern, and then back before your finger lifts from Theo’s cheek to his, swiping along his cheekbone. He presses your palm to his face with his free hand, over the mask, and closes his eyes for a second.

When you pull away, your fingers shimmer under the white lights of the operating room, and the tips of them shine with something wet.

His tears.

“I don’t see cabbage. What about romaine?” 

“No. It has to be cabbage. Or kale! But I really prefer cabbage, and so does your kid, you know. Romaine is totally different.” You babble, and he stares at the heads of green leafed things underneath the misters, eyes scanning for the label that says cabbage. 

“I don’t see any cabbage, Sass.” A woman who’s inspecting a shiny red pepper a few feet away from him looks over, curiously. 

“It’s a staple food, Si. It never sells out; it has to be there.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Ask someone.” Irritation is bleeding into your voice now, and the idea of approaching a store employee makes his skin itch. Maybe he can just buy the romaine and ask for forgiveness, or go to a different supermarket. It’s not quite midnight yet, something else could be open. 

The woman inspecting the peppers has sidled closer to him, close enough that he can see her face turned upwards towards his, eyes studying the balaclava before she clears her throat. 

“Excuse me?” He turns, eyes narrowed. 

“Who is that?” your voice rings through the speaker. “Is that a woman? Ask her where the cabbage is!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and blinks down at her. 

“The cabbage is up here.” She says politely, pointing to the top row of light green, rounded vegetables. Nearly in front of his face. 

“Thanks.” He says roughly, but she smiles at him all the same, while you call his name over and over on the phone. “I got it.” 

“Yes! Oh my god thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Bloody lucky I love you.” 

The line is silent. His heart lurches, thundering into a frantic beat that thrums through his entire body. His limbs feel numb, and he doesn’t say anything else, just holds his breath. He can hear you breathing, just barely, through the phone, but it sounds like you’re trying to hold your breath, too. Like you’re listening for him. 

“Simon-“

“I still gotta get the potatoes. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead.

“Okay, sit here.” The nurse instructs and he forces his legs to move, makes his knees bend so he can lower himself in the chair. He can’t look away from what she’s holding in her arms, the infant, the baby that is his and yours. His kid. “Skin to skin is very important for newborns. It helps regulate their heartbeat and breathing and can help maintain their temperature.” She continues, motioning for him to relax against the backrest.

“Skin to skin?”

“Yes. You’ll need to take off your shirt.” He shakes his head. He can’t do this. You should be doing this. You’re his mother. He’s… he’s not you. Theo won’t want him, he’ll want you. He- “Mr. Riley? You don’t have to, but while we wait for her to get back, it’s a good opportunity for it.”

“What do I do?” The idea of holding Theo to his scarred chest makes him feel sick.

“Once you take off your shirt, I’ll put Theo in your arms and cover you both with a blanket.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to hold him if that’s what you’re worried about.” Theo cries out, a sharp, shrill sound that draws her attention downwards before she looks back up at him with an expectant expression. Skin to skin is very important for newborns. He knows you would want him to do this. He knows that you would understand too, if it was too much, if he felt too exposed. But it’s important. Theo needs this. He needs… his dad. 

He pulls the scrub top over his head, careful to keep the mask in place, and leans back slowly against the chair.

“You’re going to support his head just like this-“ she moves him into the crook of his elbow, positioning his little legs and arms so that he’s laying flush against his chest. “and his body will just rest right here in this space… and there you go.” Simon doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move, he can hardly think. He doesn’t even feel her place a blanket over his body, curling it beneath where he cradles the baby. All he can see is Theo in his arms, so tiny, his eyes scrunched shut and small hand curled into a fist.

The lights in the room go dim, and he looks up, realizing that the nurse is by the door. “I’m going to give you some privacy. They should be finishing up with mom soon but there’s a button right there, next to the bed. The red one. Press it if you need anything and one of us will be here right away. Okay?” She gives him another encouraging smile and he nods.

“Okay.” When the door clicks shut, he finally lets out the shakiest breath of his life and reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. Theo’s eyes aren’t open, but his chest rises and falls, soothing some of the fear that has a grip on his heart. He gently touches Theo’s hand, and his tiny fingers curl around Simon’s giant one. He gets lost, staring down at the small boy. Looking at every single feature, his ears, his nose, the bow of his lips. He tries to memorize it all, the way the tuft of his hair sits, the creases of his skin around his elbows and knees, the soft pant of his breath. It fills him with emotion, so much he’s afraid it might overwhelm him, bury him beneath its weight. He knows this feeling, has felt it grow inside him since the very first day he laid eyes on you. Has watched it fight through a forest of dark and snarled roots, cutting and biting away at the things that have died and festered inside him. He knows it better than he knows himself now, knows the truth, cannot deny this knowledge that he would lay down and die for you, for Theo. He understands the pure terror that has blazed within him since that day in Belize, and he knows that he would spend the rest of his life, waiting in agony with bated breath, just to kiss you once more, or hold his child in his arms.

It terrifies him, but he knows its name.  

He knows it’s love.

Simon leans down and brushes his lips across his son’s forehead, gentle and light, before murmuring to him as softly as he can manage.

“Hey, Theo. I’m your dad."

The next fic in this series is here.

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: scars / permanent injuries / chronic pain / ]

Leo’s shell gets some permanent cracks in it due to the Krang, and as a result his shell’s pattern is all messed up.

He makes a fuss about it in a lightheartedly vain way, but it’s clear that it bothers him, more than just the chronic pain that comes with it.

The one who breaks about the cracks isn’t Leo in the end, it’s Mikey.

It’s a night where Leo can’t sleep, insomnia and the remnants of a fit pulsing through his shell keeping him awake. When making the rounds to check up on everything, he sees Mikey, crouched over some old crayon drawings, drawings that were only salvaged by some miracle.

Mikey always loved matching with his “cool blue bro” growing up. Their shell designs were something they had in common, different from the spines/spikes that their other brothers had. It felt good to share that with Leo.

To Mikey, seeing that pattern tarnished felt a little too much like their home getting destroyed. Worse, even. The two of them are complementary colors, it hits harder when things disrupt that.

And Mikey admits this to Leo, on this day where emotion kept mounting up in him until he couldn’t help but break a little. It feels selfish to say, but it’s the truth. It’s a visual that’ll constantly haunt Mikey, knowing what the cracks represent, knowing how they lost something that was just theirs to share.

Drawing Mikey to him, a hand on Mikey’s intact shell pattern, Leo admits that that’s what kills him the most too. He can deal with the pain, he can deal with the appearance, but he can’t deal with no longer seeing himself in the crayon drawings they managed to salvage from their past. Drawings that highlight their shell patterns, because Mikey always had a lot of fun drawing those.

He always loved what they decided they represented.

———

“Like links of a chain!” Little Mikey had called them as he scribbled them down in oranges and blues.

“Of course it’s like chains!” Little Leo nodded, having never noticed that before, “It, like, shows how we’re- how we’re always connected!”

Little Mikey had gasped at that, stars in his eyes as he babbled endlessly about how that meant they’re the chains holding the family together, right?

“Raphie and Donnie don’t have chains on their shells, so we gotta step up to keep everyone together!” Little Mikey said as he drew big circles around his drawings of their family, overlapping circles of orange and blue around everyone.

“Yeah! And if anyone gets lost, we’ll bring them back!” Little Leo boasted with a laugh, “No one has to be alone, we’ll make sure of it!”

“We’ll make sure of it!” Little Mikey echoed with a happy giggle.

———

‘You sure made sure of it, Mikey.’ Leo thinks, continuing to run his hand comfortingly down Mikey’s shell.

Then a thought hits him.

“Well, we got something better than just shell patterns in common now!” Leo starts, waiting until Mikey looks up to continue, “We got portals, little brother!” He grins, “And y’know, I think you’ve done a great job keeping us all together, Miguel. Sorry you had to pick up my slack.”

Mikey looks two steps away from sobbing at that, but his smile is wide, “You just got lost, of course I had to bring you back.” He leans back, out of Leo’s hold, and looks his big brother in the eyes, “That’s what we said- Raphie and Donnie don’t have portals…”

“-So we gotta step up-“ Leo continues.

“-To keep everyone together!” The finish simultaneously, laughing a little at the juvenile words.

A wry smile crosses Leo’s face, “Again, sorry I’ve been dropping the ball there. Feels like I did a lot of the opposite instead.”

He yelps as Mikey swiftly smacks him on the head.

“Nuh uh uh, none of that!” Mikey puffs out his chest, “I’ll have no slander toward my fellow portal pal!”

“Alright, alright…”

It’s not a fix to anything, more of a new way of looking at a change. Bringing that change into their lives as something familiar.

The cracks in Leo’s shell remain, and the cracks in Mikey’s hands scar over, but their family stays together all the same.

They gotta make sure of it, after all!

[biteofcherry]

A little slice of something sweet&spicy for @alexakeyloveloki on her bithday! 🍰🎉💗

A follow-up to Cherry

soft!dark enforcer Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: soft!dark Steve; hints of power imbalance; hint of innocence/corruption kink; hint of breeding kink; explicit se*ual situations;

You swallowed nervously as you walked up to the door of an expensive-looking house in the hills. The gate was wide open, two dark cars parked in the driveway. There was no sign of Steve's camaro, but maybe it was hidden in the huge garage in the separate building you passed.

The house looked like a renovated mid-century style and though you couldn't see it, you suspected there was a big swimming pool in the backyard.

The thought of which instantly created an image of Steve emerging from it - water dripping down his sculpted body, shimmering on the colorful ink of his tattoos.

You still haven't seen them, only the glimpse of those stretching up to his wrists and over his neck.

Jesus, you closed your eyes, once again feeling a wave of shame wash over you.

You met Steve two days ago. He was a complete stranger, with an aura of darkness that should make you run away.

Instead, you flew to him like a moth to a flame.

You allowed him to consume you the very first time you met him; hell, you were still trembling at the memory of the way he fucked you in his car, then right outside your apartment.

It could be just an adventure. A crazy one time thing you can brag about to your friends, for once having something really spicy to talk of.

But you kept the little piece of paper with Steve's address and dolled yourself up to meet him on the day he asked you.

Though the voice of reason yelled at you to at least have some doubts, you didn't hesitate for a single second as you put on a cute summer dress, a pair of bow sandals, and pink panties that already had a little wet spot, because you couldn't help thinking about what Steve was going to do to you on your date.

Nothing happened for a long moment after you rang the doorbell, your nervousness heightening in fear of being ignored. But then the door opened and you lifted up your gaze to look at a tall, bulky blonde man in what could be only described as surfer's style attire.

His long, wavy hair matched that vibe as well.

"Well, hello there." He grinned. "Whatever you're selling, I'm buying two of it."

A small laugh escaped your lips, which seemed to make the huge hunk's smile widen.

"I'm- um, I'm supposed to meet Steve," you explained, clenching your fingers tighter around your purse.

"Ah, the five o'clock meeting he wouldn't disclose the details of. Come on in." The guy moved aside to let you pass. "He's finishing a previous meeting, but I'm sure he'll be happy to know you're already waiting."

He led you through the sunny house to an ajar door, through which you could hear scraps of conversation.

Steve's voice you recognized right away.

He spoke firmer than when he was talking to you, giving clipped commands and harsh critique. You'd never want him to use that tone with you.

"Your next meeting is here." Surfer guy simply walked inside the office.

He moved to take a seat in one of the chairs, while you stood there in the open door like a deer caught in headlights.

You felt like that, too.

Because the moment you stepped in the doorway of the office, your eyes landed right on Steve.

He was sitting behind a desk, his dark green shirt unbuttoned halfway and the sleeves rolled up. More tattoos were on display, as well a tiny glint of a golden chain around his neck.

His blue eyes zeroed in on you; his gaze moved up your body slowly, taking every inch as if he was already imagining every single detail of what he was going to do to you and how will you look taking it all.

Then his attention shifted to a group of men sprawled on a couch on the side of the office.

"Your incompetence made me late for my date." He said to them and there wasn't even a slightest hint of playfulness to his tone.

He made it sound as if they did a severe offence to him and he was a step away from making them pay for it.

You had no idea what line of work Steve dabbed in, but it sounded like a serious business with dire consequences. Now you felt like you were an intruder who should leave, or else Steve's annoyance will shift to you.

However, when Steve's eyes returned to you, the steely glint in them morphed into softness.

"Come here, Cherry," he slid his chair back and motioned for you to walk over to him.

Your heartrate quickened as you felt eyes on you when you fully stepped inside. You tried not to glance at any of the other men in the room, instead allowing Steve to hold your gaze and lure you into his flame.

You let out a surprised gasp when Steve pulled you into his lap the moment you rounded the desk.

One of your hands touched his chest as you braced yourself at the sudden change in position. Steve's skin was warm beneath your fingers, dark blonde curls of his chest hair tickling your palm slightly.

You quickly moved your hand away, embarrassed that you touched him so openly while strangers were watching.

Steve didn't seem to mind it. He took your hand and lifted it to his lips to brush a soft kiss on your knuckles. Then he placed your hand back on his chest, while his own landed on your thigh.

Unabashedly high, almost slipping beneath your sundress.

"You're exactly on time, Cherry. You really are a good girl, aren't you?" He mused quietly, squeezing your flesh.

"Yes, Steve," your gaze dropped down and you tucked in your chin.

Steve studied you for a moment longer then turned his attention back to the others in the room.

"You have your orders and you better follow them exactly." Cold edge of his voice made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck to avoid his wrath.

"Thor, make sure they make no mistakes this time. Now leave. All of you."

You didn't lift your head even after you heard the last footsteps fading away, your gaze lingering on the twirls of ink on Steve's chest as your own heart hammered in your ribcage.

You were acutely aware there was just the two of you now left. And as much as it was what you wanted, your nervousness bloomed.

Steve cupped your chin and made you look up at him.

"I'm sorry for running late on our date, Cherry. I promise that what I have planned should make it up to you."

"But-" suddenly his charming smile twisted into a hungry smirk as both of his hands slid to your hips- "those imbeciles have worked me up and I need to take the edge off before we leave."

In a swift single move he hoisted you up onto his desk.

"With how stiff and shy you are on me now, I think you need to get off, too."

He spread your legs apart - not that you put up much of a fight - and moved his chair closer.

Steve flipped the skirt of your dress up and traced his fingers across the pink cotton of your panties. He pressed his thumb against your clit, right above a small wet spot of your arousal.

"I see you're eager for our date," he chuckled, rubbing your clit harder and watching the wet stain spread.

Your hands clenched on the edge of the desk when Steve pulled the fabric of your panties aside and inched his mouth closer.

"I bet you're sweet all over, sweet Cherry."

He took a taste with a swipe of his tongue, licking between your slick folds and flicking the tip over your clit.

Your hips bucked and your head fell back when he repeated the motion, this time in three rapid strokes. Then his mouth descended on you, biting into your pussy as if it was a juicy fruit.

You weren't sure if you came when his tongue flicked between your opening and your anus, or when Steve's mouth closed around your clit and sucked. Or maybe it was two orgasms melting into one.

Your eyelids were clenched shut and your head swimming when his fingers curled around the front of your neck. With a hand around your throat, Steve pushed you back until you lied down on the desk fully, while he stood up.

A clink of a buckle being undone reached your mushy brain and your eyes fluttered open. Just to see Steve pushing his zipper down.

His cock sprang free; big and thick and veiny.

Your cunt clenched, hungry to feel the stretch of him leave you sore again.

Steve pumped himself a few times before inching forward between your splayed thighs.

"W-wait," your hand reached up as last, barely functioning brain cells reminded you of something important.

Steve paused, as you asked, squeezing his shaft tighter. The sight of it made you drool, your thoughts threatening to melt away. But you managed to stay focused for a second longer.

"Condom. Do you have- can you put one on?" You asked, looking up at Steve with uncertainty.

You wanted him to use one, but you weren't sure if you'd really be able to stop it all if he refused to. You wanted him inside of you too much.

"Condom?" Steve quirked a brow in surprise, studying you.

"Yes, please. I'm not on birth control," you admitted, gulping nervously.

Steve's blue eyes darkened as your words sank in. He stepped closer, bare cock inches from your dripping, unprotected pussy.

"Sweet Cherry, you let me take your pretty, tight pussy raw, even though you could've ended up pregnant?"

His voice was a sinful temptation and his dirty words made your walls clench around nothing.

"Yes," you admitted, ashamed.

"Why, hm?" He resumed slow strokes of his cock as he put his other hand right above your pussy, spreading his fingers wide on your abdomen and dipping his thumb between your folds.

Because I wanted you so bad.

Because I needed you inside me at any cost.

Because I liked that you branded me with your cum.

Because I didn't care what you do to me as long as you kept doing it.

"I don't know." You bit your bottom lip. "I wasn't thinking about the consequences. I wasn't thinking at all. I just- I want to be responsible now."

"What a good, smart girl you are," Steve praised, brushing his thumb along your clit.

He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a short strip of foil packets. He ripped one open and rolled a condom on.

His hand returned to your throat as he pressed the head of his cock against your slick opening.

"We'll be responsible, Cherry," he leaned over you and kissed you softly.

"For now," he added in a dark rasp while thrusting deep into you.

And then he took you, with the same unrelenting force that left you boneless and moaning. Steve praised that you sounded sweet and needy; you thought you sounded more of a whore. You didn't care anyway, because the way he was making you feel was maddening good.

You came around him once, the second climax Steve forced out of you with a hand choking the air out of you and a pinch to your clit.

He finished with a groan; lips parted and face flushed, possessive glint in his eyes as he watched you twitch beneath him.

If he wasn't planning on keeping to his promise and taking you out on a proper, nice date, he wouldn't empty into the condom, but instead withdraw from your sweet cunt and come all over your pretty sundress.

But Steve was a man of his word.

So he tossed the used rubber into the bin, helped you clean yourself up, then readjusted your dress and helped your wobbly legs walk outside.

He could ruin you more when he took you back home later.

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #11

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Drinks with Alastor turned the heat up! Warnings: Gore, blood, Smut.

Thank you so much to the amazing @hazelfoureyes she's the author of the smut here! She was an amazing help for this, so go to her profile and give her lots of love!! Her masterlist

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz @looking1016

“Alastor, it’s me” An Alastor with a seemingly white tie ensemble only with red and black colors, opened the door to his studio. Red evening tailcoat, It’s not closed entirely, double breasted black dress shirt, high pants held up by suspenders, winged collar and butterfly bow tie, he looked amazing. That was, at your time, the highest and most formal wear for men.

“Y/n dearest, I thought you had forgotten of me” he offered his hand to you, pretending to be hurt, “Never, sorry for the delay, the comedian that arrived a while ago was a blast, made me laugh to tears” as you walked up the stairs he eyed the dress you wore, feeling disgust as he knew who had tailored for you.

With a click of his fingers, his green magic made a flash on your body, flapper’s dress red and black materialized. It had tons of black beads and shiny flowers. Your hands were covered by laced long gloves. Golden medium high heels that matched the golden headband.

“Hey, this is lovely” he smiled proud of his work, “Figured it was better than the ensemble you were wearing” You didn't ignore his bitter tone, but you didn't want to rub it in, instead you rolled your eyes and smiled as he prompt you to sit on a chair near his radio panel.

“I have a surprise for you” he pulled up an album, in between the pages were pieces of newspapers all about the Axe-man of Louisiana, “How did you brought this down here?” he put in your hands, allowing you to pass on the pages. “I have my ways” he was proud, even more so when you started showing signs of homesickness.

“I don’t regret a single one of this encounters, except the crazy as fuck letter that I wrote” which was in one of the pages, a subtle 'oh' from you made Alastor laugh, "Do you know that I read that letter on the radio? I don't know how I didn't laugh while I was doing so, but as soon as it was off the air I couldn't stop” you hit him on the shoulder playfully.

“That was my last murder, I wasn’t in my right mind, the cut was sloppy and I didn’t even reached the brain, it was a mess” he was invested in the story, you could tell by the way his smile looked more relaxed.

“The wife saw me but didn’t said anything, instead she wanted me to confirm that he was dead, as soon as I did she thanked me” part of you was pissed she didn’t felt fear, the other was at peace with that, “It made me sick to see her wounds, but I guess it didn't make sense to think that a bad man could be a good husband” your eye roll and sarcasm put an amused grin on his face.

“I’m not a good man, but I know I can be a good husband” he took your hand, knowing your point but still making his own on top, “Because you don’t abuse little girls Alastor, that’s the line between a bad man and a monster” and he was proud his mom taught him better, “You eliminated all those vermin, how you’re not in heaven?” in his mind no one so well thought as yourself should be in hell just for taking out a contaminator, “Because a life is a life I guess, not matter how worthless” not enough, he needed to make the puzzle you were less of a mystery.

“How did you died?” to him it didn’t made sense, your appearance, “The Axe-man did it” but he wasn’t satisfied, he needed to take the bodies from the closet, “Is this your real face?” taking a better posture on the chair you sternly made him explain, “What do you mean?”.

“You used a mask when you got here, even in life you were famous because you were never identified” he was truly informed, a fan of your ways , “What was my modus operandi?” you asked, eyeing a photograph of the bayou in between the pages, “Axe through the head” he answered,  “Face” you corrected him.

“I did the same with me, what I came to know later was that there was a fire caused by a misplaced candle, took years of deep care to my body to be this soft, but I had no face” that information was new, “I don’t care how much I like you Alastor, but if you try to say this to anyone else my coming back victim will be the radio demon” to be fair, that thought turned him on, just the feeling of your fangs on him again was enough to rile him up.

“Charlie gave me a face, this one-” he placed his hand on your cheek, appreciating the feeling, “For your information, dying by your hand, would be my upmost pleasure” a crack of his chair was heard before he placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“What made you do a contract with her?” he had thought that question for a while, Charlie didn’t exactly gave him an answer when he approached her, “What will you give me in exchange?” he swayed his hand in the air, the wall turning onto itself.

“The pleasure of seeing me kill him” sat in a chair was your ex-husband, almost unrecognizable in all the bruises and cuts everywhere.

You were speechless, he did that for you? Alastor turned the man that hurt you in his own punching bag, just for you. “I was angry, she wanted to help, I wanted her to die” you admitted, watching closely all the wounds on his body, “The princess will die at the end of this?!” he rose from his chair, green hue surrounding him.

With a smirk you out yourself at his level, “You sound a tad too preoccupied for someone that made her sign a blank contract” his ears pinned down his head, “I have my reasons” he added, bitterly so,  “Too bad she can’t help you with that leash” your fingers grabbed the invisible pull around his neck making him growl, “You’re despicable” he spit, his eyes turning colors, black and red dials, “And you a manipulative narcissist, hungry for power, cannibalistic fool” a growl of your own made him shiver in place instinctively.

Pulling on your hair he took your lips on a kiss, your hands flying to his neck, hugging his shoulders yearning for his touch. His tongue pushed his way into your mouth, an audible yelp got swallowed from your mouth my his.

“You two are crazy” your ex cried from his seat, calling yours and his attention. “My darling, this is one of your birthday gifts” he pointed to all the black ties around his body and the chair, “Car cables, how many watts?” his hands circled your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, wickedly smiling when he uttered “39.9” with a purr, “That’s twice the electric chair, your idea of foreplay is splendid” you kissed his cheek earning a sigh from him.

Your eyes darted towards your ex, “The mobster’s wife drowned our daughter in the river, just so you know” while he started crying his guilt out you walked up to the switch, “Start recording, I want all of hell to hear him later” he pushed a button on his panel “Of course mon cœur”.

As soon as you flipped the switch, the radio electricity that Alastor provided overloaded your ex-husband's body and made it blow into a thousand pieces, staining your dress and some of the walls. “The dress is ruined” you shook some of the blood off, before you were pulled to Alastor’s lap, “You’re a tease” you smiled, “And a manipulative narcissist” he used your own words against you, but with a laugh.

“She can’t help?” he referred to Charlie and his deal with her, “The only one that can has a short sense of humor towards you” you booped his nose, “You’re hilarious” his eye roll made you laugh, “And you…prideful-ah!” he bit you on the neck, “But you like me either way” he knew you liked him at least a little bit, “Guilty as charged” however, he knew he wasn’t the only one.

“But you like him as well” he made your heart beat painfully in your chest, “I went from nothing to have two sources of affection, I became an addict” he pressed his cheek to yours, “I…mmh” he bit his tongue, “I don’t know what I can do, whatever I choose will hurt me, and one of you” he pulled you closer while you spoke, your knees straddling his hips.

“How about both?” he thought out loud, “I didn’t take you for a sharer” ‘If that can overrule the deal, make you stay and arrange it so we won’t lose you, then’ he thought, “I can swallow my pride that far” then his confession seemed so surreal, “Is that my second gift?” he smiled trying to mask his embarrassment.

“I hope it can suffice” he whispered, his hand petting your hair, “I don’t want to seem greedy” could you really date both? “Oh you are, darling, but I bet the king and I adore you either way” head pressed against his chest, felt right, just as much as having Lucifer curl up with you at night.

“Thank you” he hummed in response, “That won’t do” you thought it for a second, “Want me to take the lead?” maybe he wanted a reward for being so good to you, “I already gave you my answer a while ago” ‘Devour me’ you remembered his words, while adjusting yourself on his lap, you could feel his erection, “All this for little old me? How flattering” the clothed friction electrified his senses.

“You know what I found out?” Your breath ghosted along his neck, little bite marks already reddening as your hands found their way to his pants. “You love being in control, but even more so…” you bit gently on his neck, “When I control you” he let a shaky breath escape his throat, making it looked like he had been holding it for a minute now.

“Hands behind your back” you took off his belt, twisting it around his wrists, tightly but not so much, “I want to thank you for the amount of trust you give me” Zipper down, you grabbed either side with your hands and pulled them down with a swift yank.  

“I’ll tear you apart if you…-” tell anyone? No, you were going to have him all to yourself, “Tempting, but I would never” you stopped your movements when you caught a magnetic scent, “Is this a new cologne?” he hummed a yes, “You like it?” you nodded excitedly, “Yes, and though the white tie dressing is sexy, is horribly tedious to undo” the red and black suit was too gorgeous to ruin, but he had that in mind.

“Claw your way through it” he furrowed his brow, “I don’t want to ruin it” the fabric was far too exquisite, “You’ll make me beg for it?” his words made your tail slightly wag, “How far can you swallow your pride?” he laughed in response, “Chérie, please claw your way through it” It was the show of strength that took him by surprise, not that it wasn’t adding to the strain of his cock against his underwear. You ripped the pant legs off in tandem, slowing down as you brought your hand to the curved bulge now open for you to enjoy. Finally, a moment to pause.

His hands wouldn’t be stopping you now, but the way his was cutting into his lip as he bit down in anticipation made it clear you were not unwanted.

A slow drag down his clothed erection, small wet spot forming at the head. “Now this, this is all for me. No denying that, no questioning.” His hips bucked up instinctively, chasing your finger for more friction. A little giggle from you, realizing how much fun you were about to have. 

Leaning down between his legs, you let your nose slid up his length. Hot breath ghosting over his head, that wet spot growing as he twitched.

“Y/N…,” he growled, “Enough.” 

You shook your head and hooked your fingers under his waistband and peeling them off. A hiss as the air hit his precum slicked cockhead. Heavy and hot, you took him in your hands. No stroking, no squeezing. Your eyes looked into his, attempting to look as innocent and confused as you could to counter the small rage overwhelmed by arousal.

“Should I stop then?” A squeeze at his base. Another raise of his hips. 

His head drooped down, a nearly imperceivable shake of his head. “Good boy” Your hand rose up slowly, then back down. Each stroke you rose further and further until your hand was rolling over his head with every pass. Clear and sticky, his precum slowly made a lovely wet sound fill the space between you two. As his breath began to hitch, shoulders tightening and drawing in you, you stilled your hand. A whimper was your reward.

Letting a beat come, feeling that pulse slowdown in the heat in your hands, you only then began again. Taking pleasure in biting at his inner thighs when you noticed his body tensing up with the next attempt to cum, the pain breaking him just enough to let you regain the control. 

You brought him closer and closer each time, managing a third before you finally gave in and let him meet his climax and paint your knuckles and his station floor. “Sloppy” you mocked, letting your finger rub at his slit. Alastor’s knees drew up, hands tugging at his restraints. 

“It’s too sensitive. Up”

“Why are you still so hard then?” Your hand twisted over his head and shaft. His legs were hitting at your ribs, body trying to escape your hand but with nowhere to go.

“You’re pushing your luck, chérie” 

You liked pushing your luck. Watching him hiss and convulse was bringing out the sadist in you. With a second to consider it, you nodded to yourself and swiped your tongue up the bottom of his cock. Salty, bitter, hot. Focused, your tongue edged along the neck of his glans. 

As he squirmed, he realized you hadn’t been made to squirm yet… nor last time. Motivation found; his smirk finally returned in full.

The sound of the leather ripping as his arms pulled them apart reached your ears too late. You knew he could have gotten free at any time but you hadn’t expected him to actually do it. You knew despite his act; he enjoyed letting you be the one pulling his reins.

A hand in your hair pulled you off his lap, another took hold of your waist. The wind was knocked out of you as he tossed you to the floor between the chair and his table. 

Alastor had had enough. You had your fun, you teased, you took control of the dynamic. He warned you, and now he would reclaim the power. 

“Allow me to return the favor. I have a debt to you, after all.”

You hissed a warning that he ignored, ripping through your dress with ease. Unfair, you thought. You hadn’t been quite as quick when you undressed him. Had you known it was a competition you’d have made a quicker order of his pants earlier.

A clawed hand slid down your pelvic mound, two fingers spreading open your lips on the way down to your entrance. “You’re already dripping. You acted so tough earlier, but you were melting.”

“Can it.”

He hummed, both fingers bending and slipping into you with a slight resistance. Though you both enjoyed a little sadomasochism, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. So preparation was a necessity. Not that you minded, hips rutting into his palm to bring his digits deeper. Your hands came to your chest, feeling yourself while his own hands were occupied. 

You hadn’t minded not finding your own release last time, but the promise of Alastor drawing an orgasm out of you made your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Not enough?” The radio static of his normal voice grew as a direct reflections of his faltering control.

 Your hands came between your leg and pull his hand away, “I want you.” Hooking your legs around his waist you dragged his lap to your core and rubbed your slick smeared folds up and down his growing length. “Enough foreplay” you growled, wild and feral expression darkening your eyes.

Happy to oblige though not eager to show it, he took his time drawing back his hips. Already so hard he didn’t need his hands to enter you, Alastor let his claws grip the flesh of your thighs as he pressed into your heat, moving your tail to the side, tempted to grab hold of it, but he ignored it. 

A brief moment passed over his face when his smile faltered, the pleasure of getting back into you breaking his focused facade. He took a breath and that smile widened again, eyes opening to lock on your face as he started immediately into a steady rhythm. He knew what you needed to cum, something from within told him exactly how to work your body on his cock to make your vision white out. A consistent and determined thrusting, the sounds of his hips and balls smacking into your body getting louder as the sweat and arousal was shared skin to skin.

The noises of your bodies hitting together punctuating the restrained moans you were biting back made his ears twitch. Debauched, a moment you let yourself be bested. Rarely did you surrender but for his dick you lied on back for him. Or on all fours. Or… his head fell forward. Hanging there he could hide his uneven smile behind his curtain of hair. He could see himself disappearing into your body. Effortlessly you were sucking him in and gripping with every withdrawal.

The buildup of your orgasm was stalled, your hand coming to your clit to push yourself over the climax. As soon as your handed started strumming at your little bud, your walls spasmed and squeezed Alastor. 

“Y/N, Are you close?”.

You nodded, eyes clenched shut. Your stomach muscles tightened and threatened to cramp your arching back. 

When was the last time you felt good about this? Wanted? Loved even? Was this it, at last you found someone that could match your unique self?

“Me too.” Alastor groaned it out, body straightening. Onto your shoulders were touching the floor of his station now, back bent with the chase of your orgasm and Alastor lifting your ass so he could fuck up into you. 

It was a fact your knees would bruise his sides as you finally came, legs wrapping around him and pulling him as deep as you could get him. It wasn’t enough, you whined with the rare display of desperation to have more of him. 

As if he felt that draw as well, he let your body back down. His body rested on top of yours, the air slightly pushed out of your lungs. With a weak and broken moan into the side of your head, he pressed your body into the floor as he came buried as deeply as he could physically manage.

“I’ll talk to Mr. vertically challenged” he breathed out, “Are you sure?” you saw spots of colors, regaining as little strength as you could, feeling your body being pulled backwards. Soon enough you were in his lap again, curled up against his chest, “You go out tomorrow, I think I can convince him” he looked down to you, with the softest look he could provide.

“Deal” you kissed his chin, he felt how your tail tangled around his waist, it was soft and warm, “Just don’t get killed” he took your lips in a kiss, “I won’t” you gave him an unamused stare, “I’m serious” he kissed you again, as if he could erase your worries like that.

“Now, let’s get cleaned up, cuddle the king so he doesn’t suspect anything” you made a pout which he found adorable, “I thought we could sleep together” he made you and him appear in his bathroom, where his shadow already made a warm bath for you two.

“I’m going to compensate for the other day, but I feel…weird” he was overstimulated, so you understood and rather enjoyed the bath and his delicate way to spread the soap across your skin, rather than object him.

After a good night kiss, you went back to Lucifer’s room, finding him in the same position you left him in. “Luce, Luci” you slid in between the covers, calling him softly to get him to cuddle, in which as soon as he heard you, regained a bit of senses, enough to fit his head in your chest and his arms around your waist.  

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

Stay tuned ;3

[carav4l]

dim light

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Summary: After the first Quidditch match of the year, Y/N founds herself in the wrong side of the bar at the club she works at. And she’s not specially happy about it. However, Theo Nott is even more pissed, and he has all the rights to be.

Warnings: violence (not developed, but a fight does take place), swearing.

Before you read: this piece is set in a CollegeAU! English is not my first language, so please take that into consideration and be nice. Also, the whole piece is written in third POV because it’s the one I’m more comfortable with. Reader’s house isn’t specified, but definitely isn’t Slytherin or Gryffindor for the plot’s sake.

Y/N had to cover for one of her colleagues that night, Aubrey, who was feeling unwell after accidentally tasting some unfinished potion they had been working on that morning’s class. So, much to her regret, Y/N had to experience the post-season party from behind the bar at the Witch’s Hour Nightclub. Y/N wasn't the biggest fan of Quidditch by any means, but she did love everything that came with it at the castle: the colorful stands, skipping classes to watch the other’s houses games, the tension during the match, and above all, the celebrations that followed.

"Can I have two strawberry daiquiris, please?"

Ginny Weasley's words were met with a nod from Y/N, who smiled hoping to conceal her frustration. As she prepared the drinks, she glimpsed her group of friends amidst the dance floor frenzy. Just about ten minutes ago, they had all been keeping her company, sympathizing with her bad luck until Y/N urged them to enjoy the night on her behalf, and they had moved towards the dance floor to never come back. With all honesty, Y/N didn’t blame them for doing so.

Once the daiquiris were ready, Y/N placed them in front of the redhead without a word, her forced smile still in place. After paying for her order, the Gryffindor left the bar to join Luna Lovegood on the other side of the room.

Y/N barely had time to stash the money in the cash register before another group of girls shouted their order at her, noticeably less politely than Ginny. Y/N found herself close, very close, to spitting on the three Sex on the Beach cocktails in front of her. She couldn't stand how people could seem to lose their manners with the slightest bit of alcohol in their system. It didn't take her long to realize that, when it came to those girls, the unjustified attitude was because it had been Y/N who had taken their order, not the curly-haired guy going back and forth behind her.

Theodore Nott seemed considerably more annoyed about working that night than Y/N. And rightfully so, given his position as chaser on the Slytherin team, which had also happened to lose the game that day. Well, if Y/N was in a bad mood, Theo seemed ready to hex anyone who entered his line of sight at any moment.

Y/N took the wad of bills the group left, or rather slammed on the counter, and turned to head back to the register. This time however, she ended up colliding with something herself, most specifically her coworker's chest. The boy’s hands shot to her waist to prevent her from falling, and Y/N felt the exposed skin between her black crop top and low-rise sequin miniskirt burn. She unconsciously grabbed onto Theo's forearm, her chest constricted by the sudden scare.

"Hey angel, seems like you really tripped over me there," he said with a grin once Y/N steadied herself, not even making an attempt to let her go. In fact, she felt like he was tracing circles on her hip with his thumb. Y/N became acutely aware of the places where Theo's skin touched hers. "You good?"

She lifted her gaze to his watercolor eyes and cursed herself for the effect they, and the boy himself, seemed to have on her. It was utterly stupid, as everyone knew that Theodore Nott wasn't available and didn't seem like he would ever be. The boy seemed way above any one-night stand or anything as trivial as college relationships. Y/N believed she could count on one hand all the girls she knew he had been involved with. In some way, she respected him for that.

"Yeah, sorry," she apologized with flushed cheeks, silently grateful for the dim lighting of the venue. "It's just that tonight's been a mess and I'm a bit distracted."

Her words got lost in the music resonating through the speakers. Theo put a finger to his ear to signal that he hadn't heard anything, then buried his hand in Y/N's hair and gently brought their faces closer. Y/N repeated her response, earning a nod and a guttural sound of agreement.

"Tell me about it," Theo sighed then, pulling his face back just enough for their eyes to lock. They were so close that their noses almost brushed.

"I still don't quite get why you're working tonight, to be honest. I thought there was an unwritten rule that said Quidditch players didn't have to work on match days."

"Well, let's just say dear boss couldn’t seem to care less about that rule," the guy said, giving a sidelong glance at Philippa Harvey, a rather ill-tempered Ravenclaw who happened to be the club's manager. She was on the good side of the bar, dancing suggestively with a guy Y/N couldn't quite place. "Let's say she made me an indecent proposal, and I turned her down. And voilà, here I am."

A pang of something close to jealousy reluctantly settled in Y/N's stomach. It's not like she had any right to feel that way, anyway. She opened her mouth to express how sorry she felt for him, both for Slytherin's defeat and the fact that Philippa had finished screwing the night for him, but the sound of someone banging on the counter forcefully stole her opportunity.

"Hey, you two! Less groping and more pouring drinks."

It was a Gryffindor from the Quidditch team, tall and big, with a rather ordinary face. Y/N assumed that's why she couldn't remember his name. In any case, he seemed pretty drunk to her.

After trailing her cheek with his thumb one last time, Theo let go of her and with the distasteful expression he had worn all night back in place, told Y/N that he would handle it. She sighed and resumed the task of putting away the money in the cash register. Once done, she walked over to where Theo was serving the Gryffindor big guy to attend another one who had just arrived at the bar.

As she was about to start making a gin and tonic for him, a shot glass was placed right in front of her. Y/N raised an eyebrow at Theo, and he just shrugged in response. "It's going to be a long night," he seemed to convey with the gesture. "We might as well make it as enjoyable as possible." She agreed, so she took the shot and brought it to her lips without hesitation. Theo did the same with his own shot, never taking his eyes off her, and Y/N wasn't sure if the rush of heat that swept through her body was due to the alcohol or his gaze.

"Have another one on me, Nott," the Gryffindor guy interrupted them again, placing another pair of bills on top of those already on the counter. "And another for your gorgeous coworker. It sucks that you have to be the one serving drinks after how we beat the shit out of you guys this afternoon, don't you think?"

Theo clenched his fist around the glass, his knuckles turning white. Lips pressed into a stern line, he continued preparing the jerk's drink without looking up from his task. Y/N continued hers, not taking her eyes off the scene unfolding by her side.

"I also think it sucks that such a pretty girl like you has to be on that side of the bar," the Gryffindor guy persisted, unabated. Y/N looked at him out of the corner of her eye, still working, grabbing a bottle of gin from under the bar and pouring it into the glass in front of her. "When you get a break, you could look me up. We Gryffindors know how to show a girl a good time."

Disgusted, Y/N opened her mouth to tell him that she'd rather get eaten by a basilisk than to let him lay a finger on her, but someone beat her to it.

"Don't you even think about talking to her," snapped Theo, slamming the drink down in front of the Gryffindor with such force that Y/N thought the glass might shatter. "In fact, don't ever look at her again."

Y/N was taken aback by such words. She glanced at Theo with a racing heart, but he didn't return the look because his gaze was fixed on the idiot. The latter laughed brazenly.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

Y/N saw a glint of anger in Theo's watercolor eyes, so she hurried to slip under the boy's arm resting on the counter and interpose herself between him and the Gryffindor. For a moment, Theo ignored her and continued to glare at the rival idiot. With a slightly trembling hand, Y/N grabbed his face by the jaw and forced their gazes to meet. If he had taken her that intimately before, he shouldn't mind her doing the same, right?

"Theo," she called him. He however, not willing to give in attempted to turn his face again. "Theo, just leave it. It's not worth it."

Y/N felt Theo's grip on his jaw tighten even more, but he nodded imperceptibly anyway.

"Fine."

"Yeah, Nott, listen to your little whore."

In the blink of an eye, Theo had jumped over the counter and landed a solid left hook on the round-faced Gryffindor. Y/N gasped in surprise at the sight. The Slytherin boy wasn't particularly known for getting into fights, not even when they happened during a match and the rest of his team and some of his friends were involved. That was more typical of Mattheo Riddle, or Lorenzo Berkshire. By Merlin, even Malfoy could be more prone to fights than Theo.

But there he was, straddling a guy who was a head taller and twice his size, punching him repeatedly in the face. Y/N figured the only reason Theo barely had gotten a scratch on his cheek was that, as she had suspected earlier, the Gryffindor was quite drunk. For a moment, Y/N just stood there, doing nothing but watching the spectacle unfold before her eyes, as if in a trance that prevented her from looking away. It didn't last too long luckily, and once she managed to move, she went straight to the dance floor, heading for the area where she thought she had spotted Theo's group of friends over an hour ago.

If it hadn't been for Draco Malfoy's bleached blond hair, Y/N didn't think she would have found them in the mass of dancing bodies. Pushing any insecurities the group might make her feel deep down, Y/N grabbed the wrist of the person who was closest to her and shook them hard enough to get their attention. Mattheo Riddle's dark eyes met hers shortly after, giving her an unfriendly once-over from head to toe. The guy didn't even bother to speak, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmm... I'm Y/N Y/L/N," she introduced herself awkwardly, trying not to dwell on it for too long. "I work here with Theo. This is actually about him. He's fighting with a Gryffindor idiot, and I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it, but the guy is like twice his size, and I can't separate them."

Surprise transformed Mattheo's face, which only confirmed the belief that Theo and fighting didn't usually appear in the same sentence. He turned to his friends to convey the message, and they all hurriedly followed Y/N to the bar where Theo was still straddling the Gryffindor, as if Y/N had never left. In less than a second, Mattheo and Blaise had each of Theo's arms and were leading him out of the club, followed by Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy.

Once again, Y/N stood still, not quite sure how to proceed. One thing was clear though: she definitely didn't want to be near the idiot once he woke up, or when his friends showed up and looked for someone to blame. Y/N approached the bar again to inform her only other coworker, a girl from her house with whom she maintained a friendly relationship of greetings and pleasant smiles in the corridors, that she was going to make sure Theo was okay. The girl nodded, and without further ado, Y/N headed for the back exit of the Witch's Hour, reserved only for staff and, on this occasion, Theo's friends.

Outside in the dimly lit alley, she found the curly-haired boy sitting on an old wooden crate, with Pansy Parkinson crouched in front of him at a distance that, for some reason she couldn’t wrap around her finger, seemed too short to Y/N. Pansy seemed to be giving him a quiet scolding even though there was no one else there but the two of them and their other four friends, standing prudently apart. Theo had his gaze fixed on the ground, and although Y/N couldn't see his eyes because of his bangs, she noticed that his jaw was clenched once again.

Y/N approached cautiously the rest of the group. The smell of tobacco from Mattheo and Lorenzo's cigarettes wafted into her nose, causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Blaise was the first to notice her presence.

"You didn't need to come out," he spoke in a calm tone, giving her a friendly smile. Y/N shrugged and returned the smile timidly.

"Blaise’s right," Lorenzo chimed in between drags of his cigarette. The contrast between his boyish face and the action itself shocked Y/N. "Pansy knows how to handle him."

Y/N made an affirmative sound before giving a proper response. Why had she come out, anyway? The answer briefly crossed her mind, but she couldn't even process it correctly, let alone speak it out loud. She decided to go for the most obvious excuse.

"I just wanted to make sure he's okay. After all, this happened because..."

"I don’t fucking care, Theodore!" Pansy's shout cut her off mid-sentence. The five turned their heads toward them. Pansy had stood up and was pointing an accusing finger at Theo. "You're supposed to be the smart one in the group. You shouldn't stoop to this crap."

"Ouch," Mattheo whimpered, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Don't play the victim, Riddle," Draco said, leaning against the alley wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "She hasn't said anything that isn't true."

"It's still pretty uncalled for on her part."

The conversation died there, unlike the ongoing one between Pansy and Theo. Y/N decided to wait until Theo's friends went back inside the club to talk to him alone about what had happened. She didn't feel up to doing it with all those strangers watching her from the other side of the alley, and there was no need to create such a scene.

The night was strangely cool for the time of year they were in, and considering how lightly she was dressed, Y/N began to shiver slightly. Thanks to Merlin, only a couple more minutes passed before Pansy concluded her scolding and headed back to the club. Y/N couldn't quite grasp the look she shot her as she walked by. It wasn't a look of complete disdain, at least not entirely, but it lacked the warm smile Blaise had given her earlier.

"Ignore her," Blaise reassured, that same smile still on his face. Shifting his attention back to Y/N, he noticed her shivering and promptly took off his green and black Quidditch team bomber jacket to offer it to her. "Here, take it. Give it back to Theo, and he'll return it to me."

Y/N barely had any time to refuse, but was grateful that Blaise didn't give her the chance to as she truly could use some warmth. She slid her arms into the sleeves of the jacket, which was considerably larger than her, and involuntarily breathed in its scent: expensive cologne with hints of mint and chocolate. Y/N couldn't help but find it somewhat addictive.

Once alone in the alley, Y/N walked over to where Theo was still seated, head down and hands tangled in his hair.

"Hey," she managed to say.

After a significantly long sigh, Theo raised his gaze to meet hers. With a tired smile, he greeted her in a hushed voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhhm," Theo barely made a sound in response, unsure of what else to say.

There was an air of something new between them, and neither was quite sure how to proceed. Y/N raised her hand with the intention of cupping his face to see for herself if what the boy had said was true, but her hand stopped midway. She attempted to disguise the motion by placing her hand on her chest.

"Thanks for standing up for me," Y/N finally said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"Anytime," Theo murmured, his voice slightly huskier than usual. In a sudden surge of courage he took Y/N's hand in his and tugged it gently, bringing her closer to him. He played with her fingers as he spoke again. "I wish you hadn't had to see that, though."

"Let's just say you could have settled for threatening him or something," she excused him, downplaying it with a giggle that made the boy smile. "But I'm still grateful you did it."

Silence once again settled between them, but this time it felt more comforting in a way. For a few moments, they simply locked eyes, trying to find in each other's eyes all that they were feeling themselves. Y/N was genuinely surprised to find herself in this situation with none other than Theodore Nott. There had always been a sort of mutual understanding between them, a silent complicity they didn't share with any of their clubmates. But Y/N had always assumed it was a simple friendship, that Theo considered her a part of the short list of people he tolerated, and that was it.

However, under the dim light of the moon that night, it felt like much more to her.

"I think we should go back inside," Y/N said in a hushed voice, fearing that if she raised her tone too much, the magical moment would come to an end.

"We should, yeah," Theo agreed, but despite his words, made no attempt to go back inside. If anything, he pulled Y/N's hand a bit more until she was practically between his legs.

With his free hand, Theo cautiously cradled her face, as if unsure if she would pull away. On the contrary, Y/N tilted her head letting it rest in his hand, unable to believe that all these displays of affection were coming from him.

"Can I ask you something?" Theo's voice caught her slightly off guard, but she nodded all the same.

"Sure."

"Never wear Zabini's jacket again," his words caught her with a bit of surprise, and her cheeks turned an even rosier shade.

"Why? Are you going to lend me yours or something?" she joked, pushing a couple of strands of hair from Theo's face, using the excuse to touch him again.

Theo's gaze darkened a bit, and for a moment, Y/N cursed herself for choosing those words. Maybe they weren't at that point yet, right? Perhaps they hadn't reached the teasing phase, and her comment might had made Theo close up. It wouldn't surprise her coming from him.

Y/N didn't dare breathe again until Theo spoke, eyes filled with certainty.

"Consider it done."

Her heart raced, and seeing the smile that transformed her face into one of unexpected joy, his did too.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 iii. picture perfect shopping 】

summary: for a debutante, one must be the most eye catching at the ball. yuu decides to take floyd shopping with them. what they didn’t realize was how picky the prankster would be when it came to their outfit…

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: floyd leech my beloved <33 i love this guy sm, and i feel like he’s one of the twsties who’d have rlly good fashion ^^

[ the perfect debutante series | or read on ao3 (coming soon) ]

"Master~" Floyd groaned, fiddling with his tie. "Do I have to wear somethin' so uncomfortable?"

Today Yuu was supposed to go clothes shopping. Floyd, who had previously looked bored out of his mind, suddenly shot up and volunteered himself. And since none of the others protested, the rest was history.

"Why not?" The corners of Yuu's lips twitched as they buttoned Floyd's vest.

Yuu supposed that they had a bit of a mischievous streak when it came to their own maids. Especially with Floyd Leech. It wasn't often that they had something to tease the maid with.

Floyd grabbed their hand, stopping them in their tracks, "Aren't I supposed to dress you?" 

"I suppose," Yuu glanced up, his eyes boring into theirs. "But wouldn't you rather do something more interesting instead?"

Floyd seemed to switch tactics, "Can't I wear my normal uniform? These pants are too stuffy."

Yuu thought about it. About the way Floyd preferred loose skirts that fell just above his knees. Or the way his apron was always stained with something or another from running around all day. Wearing fitted pants probably felt strange in retrospect.

But they had to appreciate how Floyd looked from an aesthetic point of view. The pants all but accentuated his height, coupled with a fitted coat and vest. Floyd looked the spitting image of a young master rather than a maid. (They patted themself on the back for choosing such a perfect outfit.)

"Hmm, but you look handsome like this too," They smiled because Floyd was always weak when it came to compliments.

They knew they won the argument as soon as Floyd released a long sigh "If Master says so~"

"Besides, we aren't trying to attract attention. If it weren't for the ball..."

Floyd grinned then, "Don'tcha worry, all I gotta do is get you lookin' the best at the ball, right Master?"

Turned out that Floyd was quite picky when it came to clothing. Maybe that was why Jade seemed quite apologetic as he was sending them off. What they thought would be a simple shopping trip turned out to be a quest for "only the best that fit Master," as Floyd put it.

"This material...isn't it on the cheaper side?"

Or, "Nah, this color doesn't match your eyes."

Or, their personal favorite, "Master, you're rich, so shouldn't you get a bigger rock?"

Yuu would’ve laughed at all of Floyd’s comments if it wasn’t considered rude to the store owners. The good thing was that Floyd had basically done the hard part for them. He had chosen a suitable outfit on their behalf, swathing them in Night Raven grey, adorned with gold trimmings. And then there were the boots made out of leather from a foreign land. Yuu probably would've chosen without worrying too much about quality if it weren't for Floyd, but he seemed determined to watch over their purchases like a hawk. 

Their feet were getting a bit tired, but Yuu couldn't bring themself to say no when Floyd entered another store.

"This time we'll find a good brooch," Floyd said as he opened the door, letting them into the store. "Something bi~g and shiny so that those garbage minnows won't look down on you."

"I'm sure I don't need it," They reassured.

Yuu knew why Floyd was worried. There were plenty of unsavory rumors going around about them, after all. It had been happening for a long time, ever since they attended NRC. 'The young heir is socially inept', or 'A mere teen cannot inherit the Night Raven Duchy, much less an orphan!', or even their least favorite rumor, 'The loyalty of their staff is due to their status.' It didn't matter much to them anyway. By the end of their Debutante, they would make sure that no one would be able to run their mouths about the Duchy or their people.

"Welcome, customers!" The salesman greeted cheerily. "Please have a seat." They both took a seat, and soon the scent of tea leaves seemed to fill the room as they waited. Floyd was already eyeing the display cases, eyes calculating. 

The store owner poured them each a cup of tea. His eyes glanced between the two of them before finally landing on Floyd, “What would you like to see, good sir?”

Ah. It seemed that this store owner had mistaken them to be a servant, and Floyd their master. It made sense, given the more simplistic clothing they decided to use if only to disguise their shopping trip. Floyd expression had dropped. They could feel the anger starting to radiate from the maid.

“Hey,” There was a cold expression on Floyd’s face. “Don’t look down on my Master like that.” Oh Sevens.

They tugged at his sleeve, before whispering, “Floyd, don’t—" 

“Master?” The owner glanced at them for a moment, not even noticing that he interrupted them. “Are you sure?”

And that seemed to be the final straw for Floyd.

He slammed his hand on the table with a loud bang and Yuu's heart felt like it stopped in their chest. Horror dawned on them as they watched the table shake, the tea set wobbling before shattering with a spectacular sound. CRASH! Hot tea spilled all over the surface of the table, splashing Floyd's arm.

“Floyd!" They hurriedly grabbed his arm, jerking it from the steaming puddle of tea.

Floyd continued to glare at the man, “It seems there’s a minnow who doesn’t know his place.”

They injected as much authority as they could into their voice, “Floyd Leech, I want you to calm down. This behavior is far from appropriate.” They watched as Floyd’s shoulders tensed, conflict passing his expression. The store owner didn’t dare to move either, face frozen in shock.

An eternity seemed to pass before Floyd released a harsh breath, “As your benevolence wishes, Master.” A frustrated expression crossed Floyd’s face before he was turning toward them, sinking to the ground. His forehead pressed against their knee, and Yuu fought not to comfort Floyd for a second.

Instead, they looked up. Yuu stared at the spilled tea with disdain, “Well? Clean up the mess. I'll compensate for the broken tea set.” 

“Y-Yes, of course,” The man seemed to sweat even more as he bowed. “And...may I know your name?” The nerve of him to ask after all that.

“Your ignorance astounds me. Most know me as the heir to the Night Raven Duchy.” And the owner turned white as a sheet. Good. That should teach him not to forget their face ever again. As the man stumbled out, they turned their attention to Floyd.

Yuu finally let their hand card into Floyd’s hair, “Floyd. You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘M not,” His voice was muffled, and they could feel him press his cheek against their knee. “Are you mad at me?”

They let out a light laugh, brushing the hair out of Floyd’s eyes. He was staring right at them now. “I’m not. I understand why you were offended. Now he’ll never forget my face for as long as he lives.” Floyd had a bleeding heart when it came to those that challenged their status, more than any of their other maids. And that big of a blunder coupled with the fact that the debutante was soon… It was no wonder Floyd had snapped.

"But Master..." Floyd was pouting now. "You don't hafta compensate him."

"I have to compensate him for the damageds. But the Night Raven Duchy will never give him another penny ever again," Yuu held up their palm. "Now show me your hand.”

Floyd obediently lifted his arm, which was all but soaked in tea, “It doesn’t hurt.” The skin was reddened slightly, and they frowned, wishing that they had intervened quicker.

“Still, we should have the doctor take a look later. And you should get changed,” Yuu traced over the wetness of his sleeve. “I…have your uniform. It's in our carriage, down the block.”

Floyd’s head shot up, eyes glittering, “Really?”

They nodded, sheepishly, “If you really were uncomfortable in those clothes, I wasn’t going to force you to keep wearing it for the whole— Woah—“ Floyd stood up, leaving the store before they could finish their sentence.

The owner finally returned. They wondered if he timed it so that Floyd would leave before he entered. They glanced at him, “Do you happen to have a fitting room here?”

“E-Excuse me? This is a jewelry store, but we—“ The door opened almost violently as Floyd walked back in, expression dangerously dark once more. They tapped a finger against their arm. The owner coughed, “W-We have an empty storage room at the back, p-please go ahead, your grace.”

“Thank you,” Yuu brushed off their clothes before offering a hand to Floyd. “Shall we?” Floyd seemed happy to lead them to the back, and more than happy to change back into his normal attire.

Yuu chuckled at the sight of the lopsided headband and the carelessly tied apron. Riddle and Jamil would have a heart attack if they saw what Floyd looked like as he exited the store.

Floyd stretching ahead of them, “Kinda wish I could've beaten him up a little~”

"Floyd Leech, that is unacceptable," They said with mock seriousness, as Floyd laughed cheerily.

And watching Floyd skipping down the streets, pointing to another store up ahead, well... They couldn't say no.

thank you for reading ^^ if you’d like to read more, check out my masterlist ! like the art ? look at more of dumple's works on insta !

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[monstas1ut]

Reprisal

ARMIN ARLERT x black!reader

Summary

__ armin seemed to always get the shorter end of the stick when it came to.. well.. everything. however, a new opportunity showed up right in front of his eyes when his black!crush had a falling out with her bf. maybe armin wouldn’t have recorded himself fucking her dumb if her bf didn’t bully him through kindergarten to college…

Content

__ black!reader, female reader, dom!armin, risk, dirty talk, crying out of pleasure, big dick armin, size diff(you’re bigger, not taller), pussy fingering, recording/videotape, squirting,

__ brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

Was it wrong for the blonde to admire how pretty those tears were? They fell over the russet color cheeks you possessed, showing no signs of stopping. The way your throat was closing up, your short breaths of helplessness never sounded so sweet. It was indeed wrong to think of your sadness as his victory, but Armin couldn’t help it.

That day, there was a twitch at the side of his lips that ached to smeer across his face, but Armin fought it. He wanted to smile so badly only because he knew he had gotten what he deserved. Armin could remember just how much his heart twanged and twisted when you started dating his own bully. There was no way he could catch up with you, not with his timid aura, his bulky glasses, and his attire.

Not to mention how geeky he was.

The posters in Armin’s room happened to be ‘women repellent’ as your boyfriend would call it. And Armin lacked any real style because his parent’s preferred him to wear button ups and slacks everyday. With his face stuck in books and his hand always holding some wooden pencil, he’d never have a girlfriend. Or, maybe those are just things your boyfriend packed in his head. Armin could’ve sworn he’d never have a girl to kiss, hug, or marry. That was another thing his bully preached to him.

But yet, his girlfriend was here in his geeky, woman repellent room filled with posters, books, and tiny machines. And your eyes were overflowing with desperate pleasuring tears.

And this time, Armin didn’t resist his tempting smirk.

The grey sheets of his bed had a formed wet spot that only largely grew over the orgasms. His lanky fingers were covered in that same wetness as his other hand held the device that witnessed the entire scene. As bad as it sounded, the both of you concluded that this was definitely something to be recorded. The way Armin understood your body so quickly and effortlessly, the way you’d already came over and over again. It’s been thirty minutes and the way Armin’s fingers wrinkled up from your wet hole made it even better. It felt so damn good.

“Armin~… I-… No more… Fuck~” your lustful voice made Armin’s cock hard. You in general made his cock hard. Your pretty face, your long eyelashes, glossy lips, your cute little two piece outfit. He would watch from afar how those skimpy cotton shorts matched the cropped top. It was white, and it made your skin flourish. Armin hated that your boyfriend had you all to himself.. but apparently that just wasn’t the case anymore.

“You said that a few minutes ago y/n but you’re still here with the wettest pussy ever…” you couldn’t see him because you had your e/c eyes closed from the slight embarrassment, but you could almost hear the cheeky smirk on his tongue. Armin was taller than you, but he was so puny at the same time. He was undoubtedly the nerdiest male in the school. He sucked at sports, wore glasses, kept his face in a book, and hated crowds. In his eyes, there was no way you’d fall in his arms, however that’s exactly what happened.

You and your boyfriend had a bit of a falling out, and Armin was in the hallway at the time. All you needed was some gentle care and you got exactly that… what he didn’t expect was for you to take it so much to heart. You didn’t let it go, and you even began staying around him more than you should.

Now you were spread on his bed and reaching another orgasm from just his fingers. How was he this experienced? You failed to understand, nor did you care right now. Your pussy was so achy that nothing made sense, only the sweet sensation of your insides being rubbed against.

“Right…Right there Armin.. ah-..shit.” Your moans were so pretty on camera, and Armin’s small chuckle added to the extreme hotness that displayed. “ I figured, I do understand your body more than you know..” Armin teased in a matter-of -fact type of manner. He wasn’t even surprised of the much louder moan that was released from you. He wasn’t even surprised by the way your pussy released the clear liquid on his fingers. It was fascinating how you squirted on his fingers, and the pure sound of it made him excited. That mixed with your whiny pleas were heaven sent, and it was obvious how much he loved it.

He moved his hand up to his mouth and eagerly licked up the juices that were dripping down from his fingers.

“Did that feel good? Cumming over and over again? Would you like me to bring you more pleasure?” Armin sounded like more of a cocky bastard than before, his head tilt only making you stare into his eyes with a type of hatred that meant nothing. You couldn’t hate him, right now you felt in love with him. Your pussy was in love with him, and his cock didn’t even make an appearance yet..

“Yes… Armin, please?” You whispered, almost begging with your eyes. The camera caught every emotion, every deep feeling from you which was going to anger your ex from head to toe. This video was going to break him, if not completely destroy him. It was the mere fact that you’ve done this with the boy he bullies, and the fact that he was much better at making you cum.

And the fact that his fucking dick was bigger.

The camera caught the undeniable lust from the both of you. Armin’s body only lacked his shirt while you were all spread out for everyone to see. Beautiful and brown with eyes begging for this nerd to absolutely slut you out.

“I’d like this position, just to show the camera how needy you are.” Armin muttered this to himself as he lifted you and moved you in the position of a reverse cowgirl. He was happily laid out with his blonde hair against his somewhat flat pillow. His hand kept a grip on the phone, pointing at your large, juicy brown ass that seemed to be overtaking his lower half. Armin was quite skinny, and your ass was far from that, as well as your thighs. So the picture was hot, just seeing how your thickness overlapped his body.

“Lean forward for me, pretty..” with another command, you leaned forward against his lower legs and your pussy opened up nicely for him and the camera. It was already nicely stretched from the constant use of his fingers. So, when Armin’s thick cock sprung out, it didn’t seem all that bad to imagine pushing inside of an insanely tight cunt.

“You are ethereal… an angel almost. That’s if you weren’t begging to be filled up.” With a tease, Armin let the camera capture his cock being slapped against your trembling lips. The scene captured his pc in the background, the screen projecting a computer game while a poster of Star Wars was up in front of you. Armin could already hear the wall punches coming from your ex’s room.. he couldn’t wait to send the video to him.. it excited the nerd so much that he had to be cocky about it…

Just once…

“Slip it inside yourself… see just how far a real cock can go.” Armin grumbled, knowing he was bigger than your ex. You indeed knew this too and his cock size kind of frightened you, but it made you wetter to think about. And without being a brat or being disobedient, you slowly grabbed Armin’s cock with a gentle hand before slowly aiming it towards your winking hole that was eager to be filled.

Your soft pants and moans didn’t go unrecognized as you slowly let his pink tip slip inside of you. The feeling was so overwhelming and it made your knees and arms all weak. Considering that, you were completely laying on Armin’s legs. His cock accidentally buried inside of you. It was so quick, but the feeling was undeniably strong.

“Fuckkk~… Y-You so fuckin big Armin~…”

It boosted his ego that he thought he never had, and he got it all on tape. The way you were starting to grind against him, the way you’d slightly lift your head to look back at him and the camera. All of it made him harder if that was even possible. “You love how it feels… You've never felt something as big as this in your pretty guts, now have you?” Armin asked teasingly as his hand moved to grip a handful of your ass cheek. He couldn’t help but make it jiggle and slap it with genuine love for it.

“No… no!… This the biggest dick I eva’ had…” you slurred, slowly beginning to rise your hips and drop them right back down. “Tell him that…” with a husky twang to his voice, Armin demanded you said this.. specifically towards your ex. His dominance really peeked through when saying those words, and you complied while slowly moving your lower body faster. Those musical juicy sounds started to get louder, and for some reason, Armin loved that even more than the skin slapping.

“Tell the camera.. how much better I am.. how much bigger I am than him… tell them, pretty..” Armin almost begged this, however it was overshadowed with his hostile dominance that made you tense up on his cock.. but those pretty cheeks didn’t stop jiggling on his pelvis.

“Armin~… y-your dick is-..fuck. Your dick is so much better than his… I love it so fucking much… I never felt Dick so far inside of me..” with a whiny tone, you moaned this out with struggle. The camera couldn’t help but catch the white precum on his cock, or that jiggling ass of yours that looked exactly like water. Your ass looked like you were suffocating Armin, but fuck could he tame it.

Smacking sounds came from exactly that, as well as your wet pussy being slammed against him. The rhythmic movements made it obvious it was good sex, and who knew Armin could take it? Who knew he was strong enough? This man could even keep the phone steady while being sucked in by your golden pussy. He was absolutely nerdy yet behind those glasses were dominant, lustful eyes that gained a hint of possession…

“That’s right, pretty… now surprise him by squirting on my cock.. he doesn’t even know you can do that..”

ⓒ Monstas1ut , Do not copy

[ovaryacted]

Autumn Delight

Pairing: DI!Leon x fem!reader

Summary: As you cook to welcome the change in season, your daughter plays grocery shopping with her father.

WC: 2.1k

Notes: After reading @cinnarette write for girl dad!Leon, I wanted to add on to the hype and do some fluff because that man deserves it and I want him happy. Also I know I said Death Island Leon for this one, but I imagine him older. Anyways, enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

The sun shined through the window as you hummed to yourself, the pot in front of you blowing off steam and filling the kitchen with the aroma of sweet tomatoes and fresh herbs. The scent felt nostalgic, like a soft weighted blanket that reminded you of what your mom would make for dinner after you came home from school.

The season was slowly transitioning into autumn now, a more prominent breeze shaking the leaves as they began to change color from their vibrant greens to shades of orange and dark red. Warm air now starting to cool down every passing day, tank tops and shorts exchanged for sweat pants and cotton crew necks. Soon enough, it’ll be time to go apple picking and welcome all things pumpkin, you mostly looked forward to having apple cider come back in stock at your local grocery store. 

A loaf of fresh sourdough bread rested in front of you, already knowing the cheese you needed for this meal was cooling in the fridge, ready to be melted to your heart’s delight. Grilled cheese and tomato soup were on the menu tonight, a nice hearty meal to welcome the first day of fall. You covered the pot of tomato soup, letting it simmer for a while longer. As you were ready to step to the side and tend to other tasks, you heard rambling on the upper floor of your townhouse, already knowing where the source of the noise was coming from.

Stepping out of the kitchen entirely, you went up the stairs, careful not to be too loud as your slippers moved over the hardwood steps. Walking down the hallway of the second floor, you continued until you were met with the white door to your left, wide open for you to take in the view inside.

Your husband was on his knees, surrounded by pastel green walls and soft carpet. Toys were all over the floor, a Barbie dollhouse in one corner of the room and a plastic play kitchen in the other. You leaned against the doorway and let out a snort, trying not to draw attention to the 3-year-old who walked around her bedroom with purpose. The man’s eyes were drawn to yours at the sound of your laughing, vibrant blues paired with soft wrinkles on the rounded corners of his gaze. A pearly white grin came your way, one that drew you to him all those years ago.

“You know, this place is quite small. Limited options”, Leon said, pushing a toy shopping cart that was comically small against him and skimming the shelf in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, finger on his chin as he thought heavily about what to grab next. Of course, he took this decision seriously, looking at the plastic toys resembling different foods from fake cereal boxes to ketchup bottles and eggs.

He reached forward and took a can of tuna, putting it in the cart and moving along. The cart was already full of a few things, plastic fruits and vegetables that were completely necessary. You watched him move around, going to the mini-kitchen that was set up on one side of the room.

“A drumstick in the sink? This is such a safety hazard for a grocery store”, Leon grumbled, knowing his daughter was right behind him, watching him diligently like a good sales associate. Her matching dirty blonde hair and blue eyes looked over him as he reached for the misplaced doll currently folded in the tiny microwave. He tried his hardest not to laugh, putting the doll back where he found it and gave you a glance.

Leon continued to shift around the room, finding plastic cookies on the floor and throwing them in the buggy with dramatic flare. He leaned down on the ground and found more toys littering around him. Grapes were underneath the toddler bed, toy crackers were in the hot tub in the dollhouse, and singular hot dog sausages were thrown in every nook and cranny imaginable.

Just looking at the room was stress-inducing, but the agent didn’t have the heart to be mad or irritated. If anything he was glad to have a mess like this to deal with in the first place. Had someone told him years ago he’d be happily married in a townhouse he bought with a three year old daughter that was his carbon copy, he’d laugh in their face. The image of having a loving family was a dream he had thrown away after the horrors he witnessed at 21. Being exposed to such monstrosities almost fully turned him away from ever thinking of having something more in his life besides fighting manmade monsters. He never thought he’d be able to have a life worth living outside of survival.

That was until miraculously, he bumped into you when he went to try a new cafe that opened in town. Years later having regained that dream he buried deep in his subconscious, he gets to be in a home full of love he never thought he’d get to experience. He has a reason to wake up every day, something and someone to fight for, and he wouldn’t take that for granted.

Leon shook his head and blinked at the sound of your voice, your eyes looking over him once or twice already knowing what happened. He zones out less as he gets older, but it still happens from time to time. Before, his memories used to haunt him, the traumas and burdens he carried would make his nervous system go haywire and put him in a constant state of paranoia. Now, he has moments where he’s reminiscing about his past and feels gratitude instead of self-hatred or fear. You didn’t mind, you accepted all parts of Leon with open arms, even the parts he couldn’t accept himself, and if it weren’t for your support lord knows where he’d be now.

“Hm?”, he hummed, giving you a look and silently admiring you like he often did, as if you were his guardian angel sent to ground him to this current reality.

“I asked if you could pick up some ice cream on your shopping trip”, you told him softly, your daughter now distracted and leaving her post at her fake cash register to collect all of the individual chip pieces she could find.

“Thanks for reminding me hun”, Leon said now returning to the present, shuffling to another part of the room to look for the ice cream pieces. He could only find the plastic waffle cone, not the strawberry ice cream scoop. With a shrug, he put it in the shopping cart as you held in your giggle with a bite of your lip.

Finally facing his daughter, he pushed the cart towards where she stood. Out of the kindness of his heart, he helped the toddler scan and swipe the toys, her small grabby hands reaching for whatever food item he gave her. It was moments like this you enjoyed the most, seeing just how much Leon loves the child you both created and how he treats her like the center of his universe. She’ll never fully understand just how much her dad cares for her, pure unconditional love if you ever saw it.

You couldn’t be more proud to see Leon become the father he never had, and the man he’s always wanted to be.

Leon now started to talk with his mini-twin, giving her sassy remarks as her tiny fingers threw the things she scanned back into his cart rather aimlessly.

“What? No bag? You’ve got to be kidding me”, he teased, playing the part of an angry customer all too well for your child to realize. She wagged a finger at him and pressed the button of the scanner towards his face, a beep sounding through the room as she did. She responded to him with an equal amount of sass, making you snicker under your breath and Leon had to bite his tongue so he didn’t follow you. Not only did your child inherit her father’s most noticeable features, she also got his corniness and attitude.

She continued to scan and beep all of the items until there was nothing left to pass, looking up at Leon with her hand out and demanding him to give the money for his groceries.

“Do you have change for a 20?”, Leon spoke, making you shake your head in disbelief at how dedicated he was in playing his role. He had a fake $20 bill he borrowed from the monopoly board sitting on the coffee table of your living room.

“Mine”, his daughter nodded with a bubbly giggle. She snatched the bill from Leon’s hand with enthusiasm, pressing some buttons on her cash register before the drawer opened with a ding. She pushed the bill inside and closed the drawer with no change in her hand. Leon only gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Wow. Is this how you treat your customers? You know what, I’m just going to go to Trader Joe’s down the block”, Leon playfully threw a hissy fit, making the 3-year-old laugh as she waved at her father and mumbled bye bye.

The blonde got up from his knees with a grunt, walking up towards you and pulling you in by the hips with a smile. Leaning down he kissed you on the cheek, then on the tip of your nose, and finally on your lips as you hummed against him, putting a hand on his chest and the other rubbing the back of his neck. It was an occurring routine of kissing he started years ago when you were still dating, all beginning the day he asked you to officially be his partner.

“You know our daughter is really starting to be more like you every time I see her. I’m getting scared, one of you is enough”, you taunted him, making him chuckle. You couldn’t help but stroke his stubbled cheek, loving the feel of the coarse hairs against your fingers.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get enough of me. I’m not that bad”, he grinned, offering you a corny wink that made you roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night”

“I sleep just fine knowing you’re right next to me sweetheart”, he openly flirted with you, a sneaky hand coming towards your rear and giving you a playful tap. “You’re cooking aren’t you?”

“Mhm, grilled cheese and tomato soup, all from scratch”, you told him, noticing how his ears perked up at the sound of cooked food. You learned early on in your relationship that Leon was a foodie and preferred home-cooked dishes above anything else. So you made sure to get your clutches on him by making him some Tuscan chicken pasta, aka marry me pasta, on your 7th dinner date together. Safe to say, he hasn’t left since.

“God I love you”, he declared so frankly and so often that you knew he meant it. You never questioned his devotion to you, and you can tell from the way he says it as if it’ll be the last time that it’s always sincere. 

“I know, you would go hungry without me. I love you too”, giving him another kiss on his lips and letting him savor it.

You heard a tiny voice coming towards you both, something yanking on Leon’s jeans by the shin and forcing him to pull away from you for a minute. He looked down at the smaller blonde, cerulean eyes matching his own like a reflection of himself.

“Yeah sweet pea, what’s up?”, he turned towards her, reaching down to pick her up in his strong arms like he usually did. “You want some of mommy’s food too?”

“Yes! Sammi!”, it slipped out of her mouth, clapping to herself as she got excited at the mere idea of eating whatever was being made. She was always eager to eat, finding joy in the way she gripped her small spork and made a mess of herself with crumbs on her soft cheeks.

A passionate food lover, just like him.

“Hell yeah. Grilled cheese sammi and tomato soup. Let’s go help mommy cook”, Leon said, carrying his baby girl in his arms and marching down the stairs, allowing you to hear her laugh intertwining with his own. You followed them down the steps, watching your husband tickle your daughter’s tummy, beaming from ear to ear.

A warmth fluttered in your chest, silently watching the way they’d talk and interact with one another that would have anyone think they were the same person. You smiled again, going to the stove to stir the pot of tomato soup before you started on the grilled cheese sandwiches. 

You don’t know how you got here to have all that you did in your life, but you wouldn’t change an absolute thing.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[imagination-mess]

Imagine Pro Hero Deku and Dynamight in disguise to see the new All Might exhibit that took years to put together.

There was a field trip happening with children to see the exhibit. One of them wanders off with a notebook ready on hand to have a small lizard with small wings on its back on top of his cap.

He quietly approached the two men who were quietly arguing in front of a hero suit, tugging on the red-haired male that matched his eyes. The hero’s eyes land on the child holding up a notebook with child-like writing, asking for their autograph in a very formal manner. That is the first thing he sees before glancing over at the child, who starts to be terrified under his stare. 

The other hero was wearing a disguise of black hair and purple eyes, with no freckles in sight. He kneels to the child's level before asking for the notebook. The boy immediately turns to a fresh page and shakily hands it over. 

Izuku could feel it wasn’t your original notebook because the quality of the paper felt more like a sketchbook.

Katsuki was looking at the child, who looked like he was trying to keep it together to not freak out over the heroes. His eyes shone similar to those of the male next to him when he was younger, who was taking his sweet time signing the boy’s book. He pushes the idea to the back of his head because it has been years since the other hero even hooked up with anyone.

The more he looks at the child, mayb-

The notebook with a fresh new page was put in front of him, blocking his view of the child. He takes it and signs with a different color marker the child was holding, and now he understands why Izuku took longer. It is a high-quality paper, most likely to be hung, seeing how young the fanboy is.

“How did you know it was us?” Izuku asks out of curiosity since they are wearing high-end equipment that is often used for undercover missions as disguises.

“Your scent. He smelled you.” The child with green eyes, just like him, points at the creature lying on top of the boy’s cap. Izuku stares at the creature above him that reminds him of someone from his past. The more he looks at it, the more of a stink eye the lizard is giving him, similar to one that he has but in a different form.

The book gets returned to the boy, causing the boy to grin. He immediately puts it in his backpack and whispers a thank-you to the heroes before excusing himself and running off to the group of children on the other side of the building. He was quiet with his steps as the two heroes watched him join his classmates.

It seems like he doesn’t say anything about them being there.

“You noticed it, right?"

“Now we know, we need to tell Mei that she has to cover our scents since that's how we were discovered.” Izuku obliviously attempts to change the subject, trying not to think about the possibility.

“Deku."

“Kacchan, she was found dead.”

So Bakugou doesn’t mention that your last name was on the boy’s notebook when he closed it to hand it back. They continued enjoying the exhibit, but Izuku kept glancing over at the kids whenever they were in the same room.

[scekrex]

Hey I was wondering if you could do Adam x reader where reader is a sinner who literally just spawned in the middle of an extermination so not only are they panicked about one somehow being alive, two the fact that they're body is basically completely different, and three that weird winged people are killing others. Adam sees reader and after a second or two of thinking and deciding that yeah they're cute makes up his mind and helps them. I hope you have an amazing day/night!

Thanks for request hun! I swear it was great writing it bc it was tricky to keep Adam as character accurate while also making him sympathize with reader. Here ya go, hope you like it xoxo/p

I’ll shelter and adore you more than anything

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, mentions of death, low-key canon typical violence

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

First it had all been black for a moment, a silent void that your soul seemed to travel through. Then there was light, at first it had seemed reddish, then it turned gold, the golden light transitioned to white and then you found yourself standing on solid ground.

What?

You reached for your head, your hands roamed over your skull, there was soft hair there, no sticky red blood, so liquid that coated your hair and made it all greasy. There was also no sign of your skull being cracked open even though that was what had just happened before the world had faded and turned black.

Your eyes roamed over your surroundings and panic and anxiety fueled you alongside confusion on why you were still alive.

There were winged people, they were fighting other creatures, in the hair, on the ground, all around you. Your body screamed at you to run away, to go seek shelter somewhere, to not get killed again. Which was weird enough because you had just died so why the fuck were you here and where was here to begin with. But your body didn't move, it felt like you were glued to the spot, as if your feet had melted and were now one with the ground.

A thing you noticed quickly was that all of the winged people wore black and white only, their wings matched those colors. But there was one guy, way taller than the others, he wore a purple robe with white details and golden sleeves, his wings were also golden. You assumed he was their leader.

You wanted to hide, from him especially, because if you were right and he was their leader, you were easy prey for them. You didn't understand what was going on, nor did you know where you were. Your arms reached for your legs, you tried to move, to get out of their view, to make yourself as unnoticeable as physically possible. But your body still wasn't moving. So you stood there, body violently shaking from fear and panic, what would it be like to die a second time? Would it be just as painful? Would you come back yet again and live through it all again?

“Fucking run you stupid bastard,” someone yelled at you as they rushed past your frozen body. All you could do was to look at them. Then your legs gave out and you collapsed.

Curled up into a ball your body was still shaking, vibrating even, and you felt hot tears streaming down your cheeks. That's it, you were going to die again, maybe even more painful than before. But most importantly: this time you were going to die alone, no partner by your side.

In the corner of your eyes you saw a shadow that was casted over you, a gigantic shadow with wings that were spread out, the winged creature was basically shielding your body from the few of the other winged creatures.

You saw how he leaned in, how his face got closer to your body, a dead serious expression was meeting your unsteady one. Fuck, he was going to kill you, wasn't he?

His lange hand grabbed your shoulder roughly and forced you to lay on your back, he eyed your face carefully before greeting you with a relaxed, “Sup?” You were too stunned to speak. You had expected this creature to kill you, to tear you apart until all that's left of you were little shreds. But instead he greeted you with a simple ‘sup’? Your body tried to get away from his touch, everything inside of you screamed to get away from him, that he was bad news. But you stayed, mainly because his grip on you was painfully firm, but you stayed. “Y’know,” he continued as he raised an eyebrow at you, “It’s pretty fucking rude to not answer.”

A weak and quiet, “Hey,” was all you could get out and while clearly not the answer he had wanted - he made sure you knew that by sighing heavily - he picked you up bridal style. His golden wings were still spread, you supposed he held them up in pride, claiming you as his very own personal trophy. “Where are we going?” it was more of an instinct than actual knowledge you wanted, you were pretty sure you did not wanna know where the two of you were heading to. Most likely he was carrying you in your death. “Dunno, away from the fucking battle for now,” was his response as he walked away from said battle. Why was he being nice? Was he being nice or did he just carry you away to brutally murder you? But if that was his intention then why was he leaving the battlefield? Why not kill you then and there? “Why?” you simply asked, it was all that you could get out, you were too caught up in your thoughts to talk in proper sentences. He looked down at you and for a moment there was confusion written all over his face before he understood, a simple shrug was the answer. “You looked fucking lost,” the creature carrying you explained, “Fucking scared and alone.”

Adam sighed as he forced his eyes shut, you had reminded him of himself after Eve had left him. He was alone, scared even. And then he had crossed the pearly gates and the loneliness continued, he was less afraid but still as lonely, still as broken as he had been on earth. And while you had ended up in hell he couldn't just leave you there, not when you had been looking so much like him when he had died. Adam had died alone, no one should die alone. Especially not someone as gloriously holy looking as you. Because for a sinner, you looked too much like an angel. The wings were missing, obviously they were, no sinner would be reborn with angelic wings, but he could picture you with a pair and he hated himself for it. Because hell was forever and for the first time he didn't like the thought of that, because it included you. The first man didn't quite understand where the sympathy towards you came from, maybe it was just that he had seen himself in you, maybe it was because you seemed different than the others. Has God made a mistake? Adam shook his head, no. God makes no mistakes and neither do angels. But yet he questioned why you looked so holy, so angelic while being reborn a sinner.

The inner conflict Adam was fighting against himself was interrupted by two cannibals that were walking right towards you. Adam rolled his eyes, one hand let go of you and his wing came up to hold you up instead as he raised the hand that had been holding you only moments and a golden battle axe guitar appeared out of thin air. He twirled the shiny looking Instrumental weapon, then sliced their heads off smoothly, Adam's wing had covered your eyes so you weren't able to see it, but you heard it. Heard the blade slicing through flesh, heard their heads hitting the ground. And as surprisingly as the weapon had appeared, it was gone again.

One of the black and white dressed creatures flew towards you, seemingly targeting Adam. “Sir,” the female spoke with respect as she landed next to the guy that was carrying you. She eyed you, then looked at the tall man. “No fucking comment about it, Lute,” he warned with a low growl in his voice and the woman straightened her back with a nod, “We are done, we need to leave.” The masked man looked down at you, you looked so beautiful against his golden feathers, so holy, so untouchable. Yet you were a sinner and he couldn't bring a sinner with him to heaven. So he carefully let you down, the tip of his longest feather ghosted over your cheek, it wiped the tears away. “Promise me to stay fucking safe,” he mumbled as he stood in front of you. You looked up at him with curious eyes, “Where will you be going?” And it was just then and there that Adam realized that you knew nothing. Without him you would've died on the battlefield. “Heaven babes, me and those crazy bitches are going home,” he hummed and pointed to the woman next to him. “And we're currently in…?” Adam's face scrunched up and he bitterly spoke, “Hell.”

Oh. Oh.

So he was an angel? What did that make you? A demon? And yet he had protected you, shielded and saved you. Your eyes widened at that and the man in front of you chuckled. “If you ever see my ladies again,” he once again pointed to the woman next to him, “As for Adam, I'll let these cunts know about you babes ‘n’ they'll lead ya ass to me.” You repeated his name softly, deciding immediately that you liked the sound of it. “The one and only, it's not every day that you meet the fucking og dick,” a cocky grin was sent your way and it took you a moment to process his words. “The Adam? Like Adam and Eve?” That caused the first man's expression to sour immediately, Eve was seemingly a sensitive topic, you took a mental note. “Yeah. That one.”

Lute was once again the one to interrupt, “Sir we really need to go. The seraphims will question why we were gone longer than agreed.” Adam once again rolled his eyes and grabbed your shoulders again, more gentle this time, “Stay safe babes, we'll be back in six months.” And while you weren't entirely sure what he meant by that - because back for what? - you nodded.

[s1ater]

cherry pie.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

summary. reader never would have thought about getting high until she seems to have lost all her morals in one night with a boy she had never met before.

warnings. swearing, underage drinking and smoking

ricky rocks. YALL PLEASEEE bare with me. you can probably tell this is an older story because of the format, but just disregard the first half, i know it’s the lower end of my writing. it kinda gets better 😬 (edit: this story is so mid, i’m just trying to clear my drafts)

the room danced with colors, so many colors and shades you seemed to have never seen before. unfamiliar with their cause and purpose, unsure why you couldn’t touch them; it frightened you with the way they moved around, the way they twirled around your head like little ballerinas.

you swallowed, dropping your head back against the grungy brown couch sat in the corner of one of the back rooms of connor’s house, a boy you found yourself calling on day after day for the past two months for fun, and by fun you meant sex.

but tonight, you hadn’t seen the boy for what you could count as hours. there were other things on his mind rather than a high off their ass you. other pretty girls with less clothing on their bodies and longer hair that was paid more attention to than your own.

you couldn’t care less at that point in time as you felt so deep in a haze, nothing could pull your attention. nothing, until the seat next to you sunk in from the pressure of bodyweight and another high body, seeing the same things you were seeing, feeling the same things you were feeling. 

he just had it more under control. 

“you going to stare at the ceiling all day, love?”

you rolled your head to meet the eyes of a crazed blonde with matching brown eyes. delight swirled in his irises while he looked at you with also dazed eyes, almost ceased shut from swelling of the high. you looked amazed right back at him despite sober you would have been disturbed, never seeing a person so out of their mind.

“who are you?” you stared at him, shocked. 

“your new boyfriend,” he wiggled his eyebrows, jumping and readjusting himself up against you, his arm now slinging up and over you shoulders. a new kind of energy swelling through his chest, “i say we go on a date.”

he stared in front of him focused full hearty, as if visualizing something at that moment. you squinted, looking to where he was looking as if trying to see what he was seeing, but not enough weed could put you on his level. 

“i say, we leave right now, get some pie, maybe some coke. whatever you like sweetheart, i’ll give it to ya.” “I think your sweetheart wants some space, jake,” your eyes looked from the boy who sat next to you, jake, to the boy who now stood before the two of you, an unimpressed look on his face. his arm reached out to jake, practically yanking him from your side. “alright pal, let’s go for a walk.”

you watched jake stumble into him, “but louis, she’s pretty.”

louis glanced back over his shoulder as he begun to pull jake away from the couch and toward the door, now really coming to your attention. his eyes raked you up and down before smirking a little bit, nodding to himself, “sure man, she is.” 

he begun to walk away with jake wrapped around his shoulder before you got up fast almost tripping over your feet, not wanting them to go, “wait, i want a pie.” 

he looked back at you and your disoriented self. your shoulders were slung low, making you smaller than you actually were. your hair was all staticky, hanging above your head like a crown, and your eyes; dilated and filled with innocence.

he smirked, looking you up one more time before nodding you over, cuing you to follow after him, his arm still holding jake to his toes.

the boy’s car was blue. louis’ car was blue. it was one of those old, nice, restored cars that must have been worth thousands. the interior had light brown leather seating that made noise every time you shifted and readjusted yourself due to the old springs lying beneath. it made you giggle as you sat next to him in the front seat, jake lying in the back due to him not being just high, but rather cross faded. louis had apparently found him completely plastered out of his mind once he had first arrived at the party, leading him to hand jake a blunt to finalize his out-this-world experience. it wasn’t smart, but it kept louis entertained to say the least.

louis had glanced at you multiple times as he drove through the silent streets. he seemed eager or maybe even a little irritated as he watched you bounce around, lacking the ability to sit still as your eyes darted everywhere, from street lights to stop signs to anything that’d fully occupied your vision.

“have you ever been high before?” he asked, stopped at a stop light with red lights shading upon both your faces.

“nope,” your eyes wandered across the ceiling of his car. you ran your fingers along the soft carpeted interior—strange, but very stimulating and soft—making you feel all fuzzy inside of satisfaction. “louis, i love you car.”

he chuckles lowly, directing his eyes back to the road, “a lot of people do,” his lips were turned upwards into a slight smirk. it made the fuzzy feeling in your stomach turn warm as there was something very satisfying about just the way he looked. “we’re here.”

your eyes flick to the front of you where your visions bursts with neon lights beaming from the large “diner” sign pinned against the small vintage looking building. you're quick to slip out of the car to the euphoric sight.

“y/n!"

you stopped in your tracks at the sound of your name, glancing over your shoulder where your eyes immediately find a group of boys congregating together with one single boy appointed to attention to you. 

louis. 

"hold on. give me a minute, guys," you watch louis from five feet away, brush his friends off despite the yearning looks of amusement on all of their faces, looking between the both of you. he’s far from bothered or just doesn’t notice; brushing them off before meeting you to where you stood.

it was a wednesday after school. the sweet sound of louis’ voice and sight of his captivating face was the last thing you thought you’d come across. it must’ve been a mutual feeling with the way he looked you up and down, all winded looking. 

"you're a hard person to find."

"you've been looking for me?"

"of course," he has a cigarette in his mouth.

"I almost didn't think you were real."

"of course i'm real, sweetheart," he grins harder at you. "that fucked up, were you?"

you snort. if not being able to remember half of what took place that night counted for being fucked up, you took the trophy.

"well, alright. i'll take that as you had a pretty good night."

"one of the best."

“good,” he grins, “that’s a rare occasion for girls like you.”

“girls like me?” you scoff, arching a brow. his sentence could easily be something taken for offence, but the lighthearted tone to his voice only proved he was looking to mess with you. 

“yes,” he laughs with you. “usually drinking is the only thing you’d catch a teenage girl doing for non-sober purposes.” 

you nod, agreeing, because he wasn’t wrong, “i’ve had a fair amount of experience with alcohol and let me just say, i’ll be steering clear of that for a while.” 

“ah,” he tips forward on his feet in amusement. “i could’ve guessed you’re a wild one with your liquor, y/l/n. make some questionable choices.” 

you feel your face heat up in thought, “i won’t say you’re wrong.” 

louis lets out a small huff of laughter, before pausing all movement. he stares at you for a moment with narrow brows, as if trying his best to read you, “you ever wanna smoke with me, just let me know, alright?” he patted your back before suddenly walking past and away from you. your back was to him now but you could hear pat pat pat of his feet in the grass.

you frown, your eyes finding the cracks of the sidewalk as you think of how brief and unusual that was. you feel a large hole in your chest of unfulfillment. 

“louis, wait,” you shifted around rather quickly as a reality hit you, but you didn’t make any moves to chase after him. he turned as well as if waiting for it. “you uh, you didn’t tell connor i was with you guys, did you?”

yikes.

that’s not what he wanted to hear. 

louis pinched the bud of his cigarette, nodding to himself, thinking contently to his answer before exhaling, a thick cloud of white swirling out into the air before your eyes. you feel dazed, still high from the days before, filled with such naïve joy and lost thoughts of things you couldn’t remember now.

he threw his cigarette on the ground, eyes meeting yours again, only they were hard now and filled with no light heartedness like all times before. and his voice wasn’t soft or full of amusement either but dry as he stared you dead in the eyes, “why, he your boyfriend?”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your eyes not meeting his for a while until after you thought about your answer. and it was an easy answer, no, but it was never something you’d ever consider a question. 

“no, no he’s not.”

“you sure about that?”

“not my type,” you smile slightly, examining louis’ pale cheekbones and facial features, the cold of the weather turning his complexion slowly red. your eyes drag to reach his red chapped lips.

him, he was your type. 

“enough of your type for you to fuck him,” he gave you a pointed look as if he had caught you in the act of something, and almost immediately your cheeks burned, like you were caught for something you knew you shouldn’t have been doing. 

you didn't understand why or how he knew. louis was someone you didn't know at all and what you and connor did was something you didn't tell anyone.

"you're surprised?"

"yes."

"why do you care what he knows, let alone fuck him?" he doesn't say anything more on how he knows like you hoped he would. "if he's not your type?"

you bite into your bottom lip, wincing because you didn't know the answer to it, "I don't."

"but you do," he slightly smiles but it's only out of annoyance as his voice catches up to cut you off on your lie. "I think you do, y/n. and you just don't want him to know we kissed."

"your mouth tastes like cherry."

"so does yours."

fuck.

"no, louis..." you wince, immediately regretting stopping him. "that's not what I meant. he doesn't mean anything to me."

he scoffs, "funny."

he doesn't believe you. not even close.

"you know he has label on you."

"a what?" you frown immediately, taking a step forward out of instinct.

“i’m a fool to think you’d ever stop liking him,” he holds his face, running his fingers along the sharp lines of his jawbone as he thinks about his idiotic hope that’d you so fastly fall for him as you did with connor. “foolish to think you’d drop him over one night.”

you’re even more confused now, “it was one night, louis.”

“you act like there isn’t the possibility that i’ve known you even before that night, y/n,” he has a smile that comes on his face but it isn’t something genuine. it’s annoyed. “your jerkoff of a boyfriend isn’t as secretive about you as you think.”

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

he scoffs, “you keep saying that.”

“because it’s true.”

“do you know what he says about you?”

“obviously not, louis,” four steps forward, four steps closer. “you keep speaking of ‘labels’ and whatever, but why don’t you just say it. what does he say about me that is so crazy?”

he didn’t expect the sudden brief and assertiveness you pull with your movement and words. it knocks him into a slight revelation as all he can do is stare at you and breathing, memorizing this side of you. 

“did he say i was a whore?” that was the only possible thing that you could think of at that moment that could be so bad. “he tell you i was a slut?”

it’s silent. you watch him think and the way he unintentionally avoids your hard stare with the thought process.

“ask him yourself.”

**

“has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes.”

you feel your face burn upon the comment. everything in your body felt as if was about to burst upon the simple company of louis. even though it had to of been hours since connor’s house, and the diner, and even dropping jake off at his own home, you still felt out of your mind in the best way possible. all of your sense were still high, but your vision was fuzzy and you felt lag in your movement.

how were you still high?

“you have,” you felt yourself giggle, to which he smiles with a tip of his head, watching you.

“cute,” his fingers rubbed against his mouth in thought before reaching to you. you felt yourself inhale sharply at his sudden movement and hold your breath once they reached their destination; raking through your hair. “how does he do that to you?”

“what?”

“nothing,” he shook his head, still twisting his fingers through soft strands of your hair. you feel yourself relax, watching him and the way he seemed so focused on just you. “you’re just very pretty, y/n.”

you feel your eyes slightly widen, but his face doesn’t shift at all. he’s calm, while you feel your entire body burst once more into heat. you’re itching to move, you can’t just sit still in that burning warmth beneath his stare. you feel yourself move, leaning forward on your knees so your lips meet louis’.

louis smiles against the pressure of your lips against his--he almost forgets to kiss you back because of it. 

almost. 

his hands rack up and down the front of your body, lightly pressing into the hold he had around your rib cage, as if willing to crush you beneath his grasp as long as that meant you wouldn’t leave. this contact isn’t enough even for you. you want to feel him all over and the heavy hands holding your body isn’t enough. 

you’re on his lap now, one of your hands holding the top of his shoulder while the other claps his cheek. louis feels as if his own body is about to burst beneath you... this is all he has wanted, for a while, and now that he’s got it, he feels it’ll destroy him. you’re ignorant to his feelings, but you feel just as feverish with your heart thump-thumping within your chest, as if speaking to his. 

“your mouth tastes like cherry,” your chest is heaving up and down as you pull away, your wide stare boring into his own eyes with something of delirium. 

he’s smiling wide, tipping his head back against his seat to see your face better, “so does yours.” 

now you smile, “i like you louis.”

he almost groans, rolling his head side to side at the sound of those precious words, “you’re killing me,” he pulls the sentence straight out of his mouth like it was sarcastic, but he meant it, “say it again,” he wanted it. 

“i like you,” you repeat, this time his hand is on your cheek. “please kiss me.” 

oh, jeez. 

he stares, breathless, “okay.” 

***

it was a week after your fallout with louis and you couldn’t think about anything other than that. you felt a sudden emptiness and need for something that you barely even had; louis. 

every little micro interaction you had with him ran through your mind like a record, over and over till you felt you were going to throw yourself off a cliff. and it wasn’t just the connor comment--which was something you really, really couldn’t stop thinking about--but the seemingly quick liking he had taken to you. 

it had caught you off guard, but the more you thought about it, the more curious you became as to the whole thing; which was what led you here; connor’s house, on a friday night where he was once again throwing. 

“what have you been saying about me?” you stood in front of him, connor, your vision narrowed as you stared at him, examining him as if his whole existence was strange. 

“what?” his confusion was genuine as this question was rather abrupt and you made no attempt to make introductions. 

“you know louis partridge?” 

connor looks between you and the people he currently stood with, confusion still reeking his features, “yes..?”

“what have you been telling him about me?”

“you want to talk about this somewhere else?” 

“i want a straight answer,” you feel his hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from his crowd without an answer from you. 

“which i can give you if you weren’t so vague... why are you talking to partridge?” 

“you got a problem?”

the two of you are stopped in front of a boy; jake. 

“no, man, i think we’re good,” connor pays him no mind, side stepping him fast with you still in grip, continuing to interrogate you. you ignore connor, watching jake the whole way you’re being pulled while he watches you. you feel as if the boy isn’t real, like he was someone you had made up when you were high, but there he was, staring just as shocked, but equally skeptical as you were pulled further and further from him. 

“are you listening to me, y/n?”

“what?” 

“i asked you what you were on about?” you’re now in an empty corner, secluded away from the rest of the party. “haven’t seen you in days and you’re on a tangent about a boy you barely know, what’s going on?”

you finally focus on him, barely processing the words he was putting in your ears, but you didn’t have to in order to hear the fake sympathy and concern. 

“how do you know louis?”

he shurgs, “see him every time i throw. gotta get to know my usuals.” 

“yeah, and how well have you gotten to know him?”

he shakes his head, feeling attacked, “why?”

“because i think it’s my right to know what you’ve been saying about me to him and whoever else,” the seal of your calmness breaks as you extend an arm out, ready to scold him for anything he was about to say. 

his expression drops in return, knowing any attempt to make you calm and make the situation subtle was out of his hands. connor knew you well enough to know you were too far into your frustration to calm you down. 

“what’re you talking about?”

but that didn’t mean he had to comply. 

“your new choice in men is obviously not working out for you. even they know i’m the best you’ll ever have.” 

“what?” your head drops forward, taken aback at the sudden escalation connor had taken to his approach in words. “what the fuck are you on about?” 

he smirks, pushing the red solo cup he had up to his lips, glancing around before looking back down to you, “why else do you think he lied to you about whatever it is you’re asking?”

“i can’t believe this,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “pull yourself out of that goddamn lie before you make yourself look even more like a fool. what have you been saying about me?”

“i find it best you don’t lie about this one, mate. you have an audience of witnesses,” there’s a hand on your back and a voice intervening. 

the two of you focus to louis who suddenly stands behind you, daring connor to push it. the boy looks confounded looking between you, louis, and the crowd of boys behind him. he doesn’t know what to do within the corner he had backed himself into. 

“whatever, this is my own fucking party. i don’t need to do shit,” he shoves past all of you. you all watch him storm away, not looking back, leaving you all to yourselves in the dust. 

“let’s talk,” louis says immediately the moment you look up to him, nodding off in a random direction. 

you slowly nod, following him. 

“i didn’t think you’d actually ask him.” 

a laugh gets caught in the back of your throat, shaking your head at the ignorance as he opens the passenger door to his car for you, “yeah?”

“yeah,” he slides into his own side of the car. “but then again, what would i know about you?”

“a lot, apparently. more than i would guess,” you lean your head against the palm of your hand, staring at him carefully. “you gonna tell me what he said now?”

louis looks hesitant, not even looking at you anymore as he thinks on how to answer. he doesn’t want to answer, it’s that simple, but he owes it to you to give you something sense he was the one who told you in the first place. 

“when i met connor, he talked about you a lot. a lot for someone i barely saw. it was like every party he had something new to say or nothing new at all. as long as it was you he was talking about,” he smiles to himself, thinking of all the bragging and praising he had put into you, all for connor to just... “you were like a prize to him, y/n--until you weren’t. he called you easy, but you were his. he said he could walk you like a dog because he was the only guy you thought of.” 

you feel rage and annoyance fume in the base of your chest as he speaks. he can see it form in your eyes, take over any look of calmness or subtlety from before. you make a move to push yourself back and out the door but louis is quick to grab your arm, pulling you right back to him, only closer. 

“hold on there, cowgirl,” your almost in his lap. “you’re better than that.”

“am i?” you’re squirming, almost pulling from the grasp his grasp if it weren’t for how warm he made you feel.

“yeah,” he’s smiling at you. “why waste any more of your time with him anyways when you could just be here with me?”

you couldn’t help but fall victim to the pulling sensation on your lips to smile at him. you feel that fuzzy feeling creep up into your stomach at his stare like the first time you were both alone in his car and suddenly all your anger at connor melts away.

“only if you offer me cherry pie.”

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