#day 23: gasping for air

[cumironi]

ARE YOU A GOOD GIRL? jjk men.

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. d!ck inside, gasp and moan filling the room. your boyfriend pays you a visit and one praise they have you cum just in a second, and what do they do? oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that’ they said.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, established 23 you & 31 them, praise kink, petname(s), name-calling(s), overstimulated, dirty talk,

GOJO SATORU

your dorm room was dim, just the amber glow of your bedside lamp flickering against the walls and casting shadows that danced with the rhythm of your bodies. his shirt was tossed somewhere by your desk chair, your panties slung haphazardly over your open textbook—because of course gojo had bent you over your desk first, saying something like “might as well break in your study spot properly, baby.”

but now you were on the bed, flat on your back, his silver hair a messy halo as he hovered over you, hips grinding into yours at a slow, relentless pace. skin hot and sticky, your legs trembling around his waist, your breath coming out in ragged little gasps.

“look at you,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple as he dragged his cock out to the tip, just to slam it back in. “fuck, baby—you’re taking me so good.”

your nails clawed at his back. “s-satoru—!”

he groaned at the way your voice cracked, the way you clenched down on him so tight the second he said something nice. “mm? what was that? you like that? like being told how good you are for me?”

your walls fluttered around him. violently.

his eyes widened.

“oh my god,” he said, stilling completely inside you. “no fuckin’ way.”

you were already whining, shifting your hips to chase friction, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, staring at you like he just struck gold.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “you’re gonna cum just from that.”

your face was burning. “shut up—”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. this was gojo.

“ohhh, no no, now i have to test it,” he grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. “you like being praised, baby? does it make that pretty pussy all messy?”

you whimpered as his free hand slid down, thumb circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes.

“you’re doing so good for me. such a good girl—letting me fuck you like this, letting me ruin that smart little college brain. i know you’ve been working hard all week, haven’t you?”

your hips bucked hard.

“ah—there it is,” he laughed, almost mean. “my filthy little overachiever. studying all day just to get ruined by my cock at night.”

his strokes picked up. so did his words.

“so proud of you, baby. so proud of this body—these thighs, this tight little cunt that’s soaking for me. you’re just perfect. my perfect, obedient, desperate girl—”

your orgasm hit like a truck.

you cried out, back arching violently, legs locked around him as your whole body seized beneath him. your walls clamped around his cock so hard it knocked the air out of him, and for once, satoru gojo was left speechless.

“f-fuck—holy shit—”

he collapsed on top of you, still twitching inside, and laughed breathlessly against your neck. “you just came from that,” he murmured, grinning like he just won the lottery. “from me telling you how good you are.”

you were still trembling.

“i’m never shutting the fuck up again,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “you’re so screwed, baby.”

and he meant that in every way possible.

GETO SUGURU

it was late—past midnight kind of late—and you’d just finished a soul-sucking group project that left you drained, grumpy, and snapping at anyone who looked at you sideways. which is why, when suguru showed up unannounced, you didn’t even question it. you just fell into his chest with a soft sigh, letting him carry you to the bed like he always did when you were too tired to move.

he kissed you like he missed you. slow and deep, tongue gliding past your lips like he had nowhere else to be. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped your shirt off, or how your panties were already pushed to the side, or how the heat of his cock was nudging at your folds, thick and pulsing.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips.

you didn’t.

so he sank in slow, the stretch burning just right, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist, your fingers knotted in the strands of his hair still tied back lazily. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out.

“fuck, baby—you’re always so tight for me,” he groaned, his pace steady and firm, hips slapping into yours with a controlled rhythm. “even after all this time.”

you bit your lip, already feeling your body light up like a fuse had been lit in your spine. but you didn’t say anything. not yet.

he noticed it right away—how you squeezed around him the moment his voice dropped, all deep and sweet.

his brows lifted, that soft, wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“wait,” he said, rocking into you deeper. “you like that?”

you tried to look away.

“no, no—don’t hide,” he chuckled, catching your jaw and turning your face back to his. “you’re telling me you get off on a little praise?”

you shook your head. a clear lie.

“liar,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. always so wet. always so eager to be filled up.”

you gasped—your body jolted—and your cunt squeezed around him so tight it dragged a curse from his throat.

“oh my god,” he laughed, unhinged now. “you’re fucking serious.”

he started fucking into you harder, deeper. his hand slid down your body, resting on your stomach, pressing there so he could feel how deep he was.

“i’m gonna ruin you with this,” he said, gaze dark with something close to awe. “just words, baby? just a few sweet nothings and you’re this close to cumming? fuck—look at you.”

you couldn’t hold back the noises anymore. every time he praised you—every filthy compliment, every soft ‘good girl’—your moans got louder, your legs shook harder, and your nails dug into his arms like you were holding on for dear life.

“such a perfect little thing,” he whispered, face buried in your neck. “taking me so well. doing so good, baby. you’re so beautiful like this—messy, fucked out, desperate.”

your body locked up.

he felt it, smirked, and gripped your hips tighter. “that’s it. cum for me. show me how much you love hearing how proud i am of you.”

and with a shattered whimper, you came. violently. full-body trembling, eyes rolling, breath stuttering as you soaked his cock.

he groaned into your mouth, slowing down just enough to ride you through it, kissing your lips softly like he hadn’t just broken you in half with his voice.

“mmm, my girl’s got the cutest kink,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face as you struggled to catch your breath. “you just gave me a fuckin’ god complex.”

you blinked up at him, dazed.

he grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “don’t worry. i’m gonna make you cum every single time i call you my good girl.”

and the worst part? you knew he would.

NANAMI KENTO

you didn’t expect him to show up at your dorm this late. he rarely came over without warning—he was punctual, predictable, always so polite about it. but tonight, something in his voice over the phone had made your stomach twist with anticipation. his “i’m coming over” had been low, firm, and left no room for argument.

so now you were here. back pressed against your desk, your shirt halfway open, your skirt bunched up around your waist, and nanami on his knees in front of you like a man starved. his tie was off, sleeves rolled up, glasses long forgotten on your nightstand, and you were struggling to breathe through the way his tongue moved over you—slow, devastating, focused.

“you’ve had a long week,” he murmured between licks, his voice thick with restraint. “thought i’d help you relax.”

your legs were already shaking, and you barely managed to stutter his name before he stood, towering over you, fingers ghosting over your trembling thighs. you could see it in his face—the slight pink in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw—that he was holding back.

and when he slid inside you?

oh god.

the stretch was perfect, deep, almost too much. you moaned openly, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes fluttering as he started thrusting into you slow and controlled, like he wanted to memorize the way your body reacted to each push.

and then—you clenched around him. tight.

the second he muttered, “you’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to your face. “...was that because of what i said?”

your mouth parted. you hesitated.

he stared for a beat, and then—something in him changed.

“interesting,” he breathed, voice suddenly darker. “so that’s what gets you dripping like this.”

he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, hard enough to knock a choked moan out of you.

“you want to be praised, is that it?” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw as he fucked you into the desk. “want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

you whimpered.

he caught your face in his hand, made you look him in the eye. “you’re such a good girl for me. letting me have you like this. always so polite, so obedient—until i get you alone.”

you broke. you fucking broke.

your body went stiff, orgasm ripping through you before you could even warn him, clenching and throbbing so tight around his cock that his next groan sounded almost pained.

“fuck,” he muttered, hips stuttering. “you just came.”

you hid your face in his neck.

he didn’t stop.

he fucked you through it, whispering into your skin, “you did so well, darling. came so beautifully for me. i didn’t even have to touch you.”

and then, very softly: “what a filthy, perfect girl you are.”

you nearly sobbed.

he wrapped his arms around you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you on the bed—still inside you, still throbbing hard.

“don’t think we’re finished,” he said, sliding out slow, teasing, only to push back in and make you gasp. “not when i’ve just discovered how to ruin you.”

he kissed your forehead, lips soft and reverent.

“i’m going to praise you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

and knowing him? he meant it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the moment toji showed up at your door, leaning against the frame like he owned the place, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down and a smug glint in his eyes that said trouble. the man had no business looking that good at midnight.

"heard you’ve been stressin’ over your exams," he said, stepping inside without waiting. "figured i’d help you take the edge off."

“oh?” you quipped, cocky—until his hand gripped your throat lightly, tilting your head back just enough for his mouth to meet yours. and like always, he didn’t ease into it. his kiss was tongue and teeth and a little bite to your bottom lip that made your knees weak.

you didn’t even know when your panties came off. or when he bent you over your desk, your cheek pressed against open textbooks and crumpled lecture notes. all you felt was the heavy drag of his cock, thick and slow, sliding inside until you were full—so full you whimpered.

“fuck, always so tight,” he groaned, pressing his chest to your back. “like you’ve been waiting for me.”

he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you like he was mad, like he missed you, like he needed this. every slap of skin echoed through the room, and your voice broke with every thrust. but then—

“such a good girl,” he muttered, not even thinking. just slipped out like it was instinct.

and your body snapped. you clenched around him hard, nearly choking on your moan.

he paused.

“…no fuckin’ way,” he breathed, pulling your hair to lift your head. “say that again.”

you stayed quiet. trembling.

he slammed back into you so hard your legs buckled.

“nah, princess. don’t hold out on me. you like that, huh? like bein’ called my good girl?”

you whined, breath hitching, face burning.

toji let out the filthiest, cockiest laugh. “holy shit,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “you’re tellin’ me you cream the second i open my fuckin’ mouth? shit, baby—you’re so easy.”

his hand reached around, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “go ahead then,” he rasped. “cum on my cock. be my good fuckin’ girl.”

and just like that, you shattered.

you came so hard your thighs trembled, knees giving out under you. and toji? he just held you up, praised you through it, voice low and ragged in your ear.

“atta girl… so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. makin’ a mess on me already?”

he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, lifted your leg, and slid right back in.

“oh, we’re not done,” he grinned, breathless now, pupils blown wide. “you think i’m lettin’ this kink go to waste?”

you barely had the strength to answer, still shaking.

he leaned in, kissed you like he was mocking how ruined you looked. “you’re gonna cum for me again,” he promised. “and again. and again. until you’re cryin’ from bein’ called a good girl.”

and you knew—knew—he meant every word.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it was late—quiet. the kind of silence that presses in on you thick and slow, where even the smallest sound feels amplified. sukuna’s apartment was dimly lit, just the soft, golden glow from the single lamp in the corner casting long shadows over the room.

you were straddling his lap, completely bare, thighs draped over his, your arms loose around his neck. his back rested against the couch, body warm beneath you, and his eyes—those deep, dark red eyes—never left your face. not even when your hips moved. not even when your breath hitched.

he had you seated right where he wanted you, hands gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm—slow, deep, unrelenting.

and you were a mess already.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice a low, amused rumble. “bouncin’ on my cock like you’re made for it.”

your breath stuttered, thighs twitching.

his fingers tightened on your waist just slightly. “you like that, huh? being told you’re good?”

you didn’t answer fast enough, but your body did—your eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering, your moan nearly breaking apart in your throat.

and that was all he needed.

sukuna leaned in, mouth brushing your ear with a grin that you felt more than saw.

“ohhh. so that’s what this is.”

his tone dipped—taunting, smug. “my little girl gets off when i talk to her nice.”

you squirmed, half-mortified, half turned on beyond saving.

he tilted his head, watching your tits bounce with every needy rock of your hips. then he slipped a hand up, dragging his thumb lazily across your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tight enough to bruise.

“you want me to keep tellin’ you how perfect you feel?” he whispered, suddenly more serious. his voice still laced with heat, but there was something darker behind it now. possessiveness. awe. “how tight this pussy is, how it sucks me in like it can’t breathe without me?”

your head dropped to his shoulder with a broken whimper.

“fuck—look at you.”

he let out a shaky breath, hips jerking up. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? just from me talkin’?”

you nodded, desperate, babbling nonsense against his skin.

and then he said it—soft, low, raw:

“that’s my good girl.”

you shattered.

back arching, fingers clawing into his shoulders, your entire body went stiff before it trembled against his. you came so hard around him, so violently, it knocked the breath out of you—and sukuna just held you, smirking against your throat, murmuring filth between kisses.

“knew you were filthy for me.”

kiss.

“but this? fuck, baby. that’s dangerous.”

kiss.

“gonna use that mouth of mine to ruin you every night now.”

you didn’t doubt it for a second.

and from that night on, every time his voice dropped just a little, every time he muttered good girl into your ear—you remembered exactly how it felt to lose yourself right there on his lap, under the glow of that lonely little lamp, with praise melting off his tongue like sin.

SHIU KONG

it was supposed to be just a drive. just a night cruise with the windows down and your hand resting lazily on his thigh, music low and city lights flashing by. but shiu had always been the type to snap once something got under his skin—and you? dressed like that, soft thighs bare and eyes teasing him from the passenger seat?

you knew what you were doing.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when he suddenly pulled into some dark, quiet parking lot and killed the engine without a word.

his voice was low, rough when he spoke, hand gripping your chin as he leaned over.

“get in the back. now.”

you didn’t argue.

the car door slammed, and the moment you slid into the backseat, he followed—tall frame looming, heavy with intent. he didn’t give you time to process, to breathe—just pushed you down until your back hit the leather, and his mouth was already on your neck, hands everywhere.

“you always this bratty?” he growled against your skin. “or are you just desperate to get fucked like a little slut?”

your answer was a gasp, knees spreading on instinct. he chuckled low—one hand pushing up your skirt, the other unbuckling his belt in a way that felt both urgent and terrifyingly controlled. he wanted this, but he wanted to savor it.

his fingers slid between your legs, felt the mess there already.

“fuck—this wet already?” his brows twitched, head tilting. “just from me tellin’ you what to do?”

and then, a little slower:

“…do you like that?”

your breath caught in your throat.

“do you get off on being told you’re a good girl?” he murmured, right by your ear now, voice like hot velvet dragging across your spine. “is that what this is?”

you whimpered, body twitching, thighs tightening.

his grin was all sharp teeth and danger.

“well shit. that’s easy, sweetheart.”

he lined himself up, still fully clothed, only his zipper down, and pushed in with one long, slow stroke. you cried out—sensitive, overstimulated, and shiu loved it. he leaned over you, one hand gripping the seat above your head as he began thrusting, rough and deep, the car rocking with every snap of his hips.

“fuck, you feel good like this,” he panted, watching your eyes roll back. “so goddamn tight. takin’ me so well.”

then—he tried it.

soft, breathless, dangerous:

“good girl.”

your whole body clenched.

he stilled.

“…no way.”

he looked down at you, your chest heaving, face flushed, mouth open in a silent moan, your walls fluttering around him just from those two little words.

“you’re fuckin’ kidding,” he breathed, voice shaking. “you’re actually about to cum just from that?”

you nodded, whining—too far gone to be shy.

he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that.”

and he did.

over and over, thrusting deep, whispering it like it was sacred.

“good girl.”

“such a perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“look at you, clenching around me so sweet just ‘cause i’m praising you.”

he made you cum so hard, you cried—shaking in the back of his car while the windows fogged and your voice echoed against the leather.

and after? when you were still trembling, body boneless under him?

he kissed your cheek, still inside you, and smirked against your skin.

“next time, i’m doing this with the windows down,” he whispered. “wanna see how many people can hear you fall apart when i tell you you’re mine.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

the city outside was still alive—lights flickering against the windows, muffled car horns somewhere in the distance—but in his office, it was nothing but dim lamps, the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket he laid out, and the sound of your breathless gasps echoing off his walls.

he was above you. hands planted firm on either side of your head, body stretched long and tense, every muscle in his arms flexing with control as he moved inside you—slow, deep strokes that made your whole body tremble beneath him.

his tie was still on, his shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. he looked down at you like he was trying to memorize every single twitch of your face, every broken sound you gave him.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “fuck—you feel incredible.”

and you whimpered.

he paused—just slightly—but his hips didn’t stop.

his brow furrowed, mouth parting as his eyes locked onto your expression.

“…was that it?” he asked softly, his pace slowing, hips dragging almost teasingly deep. “did that do it for you?”

your face was flushed, mouth open, eyes wide—betraying everything.

he let out a low breath of laughter, something between awe and amusement, and leaned down closer, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“oh, you like being told that. don’t you?”

your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging in.

“god, of course you do,” he whispered, hips thrusting again, more deliberate now. “you’re such a good girl for me. lying here, letting me fuck you slow—just like this. perfect.”

your whole body jerked, breath catching. and he felt it—your walls tightening, the tremble of your thighs pulling him in closer.

his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?”

you nodded helplessly.

he smirked—something lazy, dangerous—and dragged his hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing right where you needed them.

“do it. cum for me.”

then, slower—deeper—hot breath against your lips:

“be a good girl and cum for me.”

you broke.

your back arched off the floor, thighs shaking around his waist as your orgasm tore through you—so hard it hit like a wave, full-body and overwhelming. you cried out, clinging to him as your body clenched tight, trembling under his weight.

and higuruma—he didn’t stop. he kissed your temple, dragged his fingers along your cheek, whispered praises while you came undone beneath him.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost too tender for how deep he was still inside you. “so sweet. you always fall apart for me when i say it, don’t you?”

you nodded again, breathless, dizzy.

his lips curved into something between a smirk and a soft smile, brushing his mouth against your cheek as he pushed his hips in deep again.

“i’m never shutting up again, then,” he said, almost like a vow.

“you’re gonna cum from my voice alone by the time i’m done with you.”

and with the way your body responded—shaking, sensitive, already aching for more—you knew he meant it.

[deansbeer]

COACHELLA, BABY.

꒰ . ⋮ minors do not interact .ᐟ ֹ ꒱

☆ synopsis. vinnie fucks you dumb at coachella after carrying you on his shoulders all hot and sweaty.

☆ warning(s). smut | semi-public sex (?) | exhibitionism | rough sex | fingering | dirty talk | spanking | overstimulation | vinnie is obsessed and possessive in the hottest way ever | reader isn't wearing any panties | daddy kink.

☆ kari notes. like missy elliott once said "get ur freak on" <3 ummm i will say writing for him took me back to '23 and it made me SOOOO emotional ???? (ur probably wondering how tf do u get emotional writing smut ….. i don't know.) s/o to all my vinnie girlies !!! this one is dedicated to u 🤍 + divider creds to me.

you don't even realize how good you've got it until vinnie's crouching down in front of you with that stupid half-smirk and his hands extended like he's about to carry you across a threshold.

"c'mon, baby," he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours through strands of messy, sun-drenched curly hair. his skin's glowing, flushed from the heat and a few drinks, chain around his neck glinting under the setting sun. "get on."

you blink at him, confused for half a second before you realize what he means. "on your shoulders?"

"unless you wanna keep jumping like a chihuahua trying to see over people's heads."

you roll your eyes but grin, because he's right. the crowd's thick, the music's good, and you've been struggling to see the stage for the last ten minutes. and vinnie? well, he's tall and broad and annoyingly strong, so you don't hesitate. you climb onto his shoulders, hands bracing on his head as you settle in, your thighs around him, your short little dress riding up dangerously high — not that either of you mind.

his hands grip your legs, steadying you, and he lets out a low whistle.

"jesus. you're not wearing anything under this?"

you lean down just enough to murmur into his ear, "not a thing under here."

he groans, head tipping back just slightly, and his hands squeeze your thighs. "you're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby."

but he doesn't ask you to get down. doesn't tell you to fix your dress. he just stands there, solid and proud, letting you dance on his shoulders as the bass shakes the desert air. his hands linger on your legs, warm and possessive, fingers brushing higher than they should in public. you don't say anything about it. you just smile and keep moving to the music, knowing full well he's getting the best view of the night.

later, when the sun's down and the sky's dripping in neon, you find a quiet rest tent tucked a little off to the side. it’s not really private — nothing at coachella is — but it's quieter, away from the crowd, dimly lit with soft cushions and low couches, the kind of place people come to cool down or make out for a few minutes in between sets.

you barely make it through the flap before vinnie's got you pressed up against one of the tent poles, his mouth on your neck, his hands already sliding under your dress like he's been waiting all day.

"you have no idea what you did to me out there," he mutters, biting at your jaw, his voice already rough. "you think i didn't feel that little pussy against the back of my neck every fuckin' time you moved?"

you gasp when his fingers slide between your thighs, two knuckles deep in your heat before you can even catch your breath.

"vinnie—fuck—someone could see—"

"and i don't give a fuck," he groans, curling his fingers just right. "you're mine. let 'em see for all i care."

you whimper, legs shaking, and he pulls back just enough to drag you toward the couch in the corner — low and wide, with a ridiculous little armrest that's not meant to be used like this. he bends you over it, your chest pressed to the cushion, ass up, dress bunched around your hips like a fucking ribbon.

he groans when he sees you. "fuck. look at you. look at this beautiful ass. all for me."

his hands palm the curves of your ass, thumbs digging in, fingers spreading you open. he's not shy about it — not with you. not after everything you've done to him today.

you hear the sound of his belt, the low clink of metal, and then he's behind you, cock dragging through your folds, teasing your entrance.

"so wet already," he murmurs, lining up. "you been thinkin' about this all night?"

you nod, but that's not enough for him. he grips your hair, pulls you up just enough to make you moan, his voice like gravel in your ear.

"say it, princess."

"yes, daddy," you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. "been thinking about you fucking me since the second you picked me up."

he growls and drives into you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. the stretch burns in the best way, your fingers gripping the cushion as he sets a rhythm — rough and deep, his hips slapping against your ass with every thrust.

you try to hold back your noises, try to keep quiet, but it’s impossible. the music is still thumping outside, but here, inside the tent, it's muffled — and that only makes everything feel louder. the wet sound of him fucking into you, his low groans, your soft cries.

"gotta be quiet, baby," he pants, one hand covering your mouth while the other keeps your hips in place. "don't want 'em hearin' how good i'm fuckin' you, huh?"

you whimper against his palm, eyes rolling back, the pressure building fast. he leans down, mouth hot against your ear.

"you love this shit. don't even care who hears. fuckin’ filthy girl."

you nod, a mess under him, your orgasm cresting with every thrust. he feels it — the way your walls flutter, the way your body starts to tremble — and he doesn't let up.

"that's it, mama. cum for me. cum on my cock like the good girl you are."

you choke on the moan that rips out of you, muffled by his hand, your body convulsing as you come hard, legs shaking, nails digging into the cushion. he fucks you through it, not stopping, chasing his own release now.

"goddamn," he groans, pulling out just in time, stroking himself once, twice, before he spills across your lower back, thick ropes of cum painting your skin.

you're both breathing hard, the air thick with sweat and sex and the distant thrum of music. you collapse forward onto the couch, dress still hiked up, thighs trembling.

vinnie leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your spine.

"coachella, baby," he murmurs with a grin.

and you laugh, breathless, because yeah — it's definitely one for the books.

@ deansbeer is tagging you .ᐟ @titsout4jackles @daylighted @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @heartsforvin @slvthrs @lowkeycasanova @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @blue-d @stereotypicalbarbie @tinas111 @cupidzbunny @kamisobsessed @acaibcwl @coquitokisses @americanvenom13 @samslovebug @starzify ╱ wanna follow the chaos? join my taglist <3 + library!

[illusioninfnty]

"i'll do anything!" ↠ day 23 ; virginity loss

↠ bo sinclair x reader

fandom: house of wax word count: 2.8k warnings: nsfw 18+, bimbo!reader, reader has shitty friends, coercion, corruption, dubconish, fingering, blowjob, cum swallowing, dirty talk, kind of semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pervy!Bo, allusion to murder, the plot is like a bad porno but i promise this is good guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“God, did you forget to fill the tank again?”

You lean over from the backseat to take a look at the fuel gauge, and see the arrow is nearing empty. You furrow your eyebrows. “I was sure it filled up all the way,” you murmur. You try to recall when you all last stopped at a gas station, and how your friends delegated you to fill up the car while they went into the shop and bought snacks.

“Well it obviously didn’t, you idiot!” Your friend jerks the wheel and pulls over on the side of the desolate road. “This is why we never like to go anywhere with you.” 

You bite your lip, holding back tears. It wasn’t your fault that you were so forgetful sometimes, always getting distracted and lost in your thoughts.

This was supposed to be a fun road trip with your three closest friends, celebrating your college graduation nearing. But after a car karaoke session that went on for too long made you guys miss an exit, you’d been stranded on empty roads with nothing but trees surrounding you for quite a few miles now.

Your friend sitting in the backseat with you turns to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. “You should be the one to go find a gas station,” she protests. “It’s your fault we got stuck out here anyway.”

Your two friends in the front row look back at you and then at each other before nodding in agreement.

You crane your neck to look at the journey that would be ahead of you. It looked as though it continued to stretch for miles and miles with no end in sight, only the empty road and dying trees.

“By myself?” you ask hesitantly.

All three nod in unison.

You huff in defeat, unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of the vehicle.

“I’ll try to be back—”

They slam the door in your face before you can answer.

“—Soon,” you finish before sighing and starting the long walk, hoping to find some destination before it got too dark.

~

Bo was not expecting to see a pretty little thing like you around Ambrose when it was nearing dusk, especially all alone. You had your arms wrapped around your bare midsection, and even from his spot inside the gas station he could see that you were shivering from the cool air as the sun set. You were looking around frantically, and he could tell immediately that you were lost and looking for help.

He smirks. Oh, he’d help you, alright. Bo took that as his cue to reveal himself to you. He wipes his hands with a dirty rag and tosses it aside, exiting the station.

You hear the ringing of the bell as Bo opens the door, and you turn your head towards the source of the sound. You scurry on over, seeing Bo in his mechanic’s uniform.

“Sir! Hi!” you start, fumbling over your words. “You work here, right? Do you have some gas? My car—well, it’s my friend’s—but it’s, like, miles back there and we ran out.” 

Your eyes then shift to the side and he could tell you were embarrassed. “It’s kind of my fault.”

Hmm. Sir. He liked hearing that come from your pouty lips.

Bo gives you a toothy grin. “Don’t gotta worry your head ‘bout it, sweetheart. I’ll get ya all settled. Come with me.” He slides his hand across your lower back, just barely grazing your ass. You gasp under your breath at the feeling, and Bo can’t help it when his cock stirs at the sound.

As you walk into the gas station, Bo scans you up and down. He notices that you have nothing on your person but your clothes, and even then it’s just little scraps of a skimpy top and skirt—which means you must’ve forgotten a wallet, too. His grin widens even more.

Reaching behind him without you noticing, he cranks the thermostat down. The air gets cooler within seconds, and Bo revels in seeing your nipples harden as they poke through your top.

He goes to find a can of gas, rolling up his sleeves as he plucks it from a top shelf. He notices when you gulp and stare at his muscles as he flexes them subtly.

You were such a cute little doll. He was going to have fun with you.

He plops the can on the counter. You go to reach for it, but he holds a hand out. “Ten bucks, little lady.”

Your eyes bulge almost comically and it takes all of Bo’s strength not to laugh at your expression.

“Wow, that’s a lot more than I thought it would be,” you say nervously, shifting on the balls of your feet.

Bo exaggerates a sigh. “Times are tough out here, owning a small business like this. We don’t get many customers out here.” He opens his hands to motion to you the desolate town of Ambrose.

You completely buy into his bullshit excuse, nodding your head in complete understanding. “Oh my god, that sucks, like, a lot.” Patting down your lame excuse for a shirt, you look up at Bo with wide eyes, jaw dropped in surprise. “I forgot to bring my wallet!”

You were such a dumb little thing. What were your sorry excuses of friends thinking, sending you off all alone?

“I’m so sorry, sir!” You clasp your hands in front of you in a pleading manner, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. Bo holds back a groan. Jesus, those eyes could make a man cream his pants if he wasn’t too careful. “Please, is there anything I can do to pay you back? I’ll do anything!”

Bo pretends as if he’s thinking long and hard. Oh, he knew exactly what you were going to do as payment.

“You know, I get lonely sometimes,” Bo starts, a mock frown on his face. “A cute lady like you could really help a man like me out.” He shuffles up to you, and palms your ass under that sorry excuse for a skirt.

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing onto his arm. “That’s really sad, sir.” You look lost in thought for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know if I can do that for you though.” You bite your lip, looking unsure of yourself.

“Aw, you gotta be kidding,” Bo clicks his tongue, rubbing his hand around the plumpness of your behind. “I bet you’ve helped lotsa guys out, huh?”

“A-actually,” you look down in shame. “I’m a—” you lower your voice to barely over a whisper, “—virgin.”

Bo blinks. That wasn’t a response he was expecting from you. So the slutty clothes were just for show, was it?

“Oh really?”

You nod, blatant regret all over your face. “I don’t think it’ll be good for you, ya’know, since I haven’t really had any practice and all that.”

He puts a smile back on, laughing gleefully and patting you on the shoulder, rubbing a thumb between the groove of your collarbone. “Well, that’s no problem for me, sweetheart. I can teach ya!”

Your eyes lighten up. “You can?”

“Sure I can!” He starts to undo his belt, throwing it aside on the counter. “Just need you to get on your knees for me and I can show you what to do.”

His cock jumps in anticipation, looking forward to seeing your juicy, plump lips wrapped around—

“Wait a minute!” you cry out, interrupting his fantasies.

Bo pauses in his movements, his jaw ticking at your interruption. “Yes?” he askes, concealing his frustration.

“What’s your name? I don’t wanna do this without knowing it.”

He sighs and points to the nametag on his jacket. “I’m Bo.”

You slap a palm across your forehead and nervously giggle. “Oh jeez, I should’ve known to look first!”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bo mutters through his teeth impatiently. “Now lemme help you out, alright?” “Oh! Yeah, sorry!” You—finally—drop to your knees in front of him. “What do I need to do?”

The sight of you in front of him like that, so eager and pliant, had his cock jumping in his pants.

Bo lowers his jeans and boxers, his hard cock now revealed to you. He wraps a hand around the base stroking his full length as it puts it on display for you.

“That’s…big,” you murmur. You look up at him, concern plastered across your features. “I dunno if it’s gonna fit.” Your eyebrows crease together and those damn pouty lips of yours come out again.

Bo bites his cheek to conceal his smirk. This was gonna be a lot more fun than he thought. “I told you, that’s what I’m helping you with, ain’t I?”

You nod.

“Great. Now open those pretty lips up for me.”

You open your mouth as wide as you can, giving Bo a perfect hole to stick his cock into. He guides himself inside you, hissing as the warmth of your mouth envelops his length.

“Good girl,” he praises. He begins to thrust his hips slowly, your lips latching onto him as he does so. “You gotta let me move, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you mumble around him, and he groans at the vibrations that travel up his cock.

Your lips loosen and you start to suck on his cock, the suction of your lips making shivers of pleasure run down his spine. He grips the back of your head, controlling the pace of his thrusts.

“Fuck, look at you,” Bo hisses. You look so pretty and innocent with his cock stuffed down your throat, gags escaping your lips. “You’re a natural. Sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I told you—!”

Bo slaps your cheek, shushing you. “Stop talking.”

You nod obediently, the action making him pulse inside of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens as his thrusts become harder, more primal. He fucks your mouth with vigor, ignoring your gags and the way your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

He cums faster than he’s ever had before, groaning as his hot release coats the back of your throat. You cough around his cock, spurts of liquid splashing against your cheeks.

“Swallow it,” Bo commands.

You gulp harshly, your lips still secured around his cock. The extra pressure has him bucking his hips and like a good girl you swallow all of his cum. He pulls his cock out of your mouth, and you begin to cough and sputter as you regain your breath.

“Is that it?” you question him.

“Baby, I still gotta get rid of that virginity of yours.”

“Oh.” You giggle behind your hand. “Right.” You start to strip, only taking a couple of seconds since you’re practically naked already. “What do I do now?”

Bo’s cock hardens back to life at your nude form in front of him. Your nipples are hard, attached to your perky breasts that bounce up and down right in front of his eyes. He stares lecherously, licking his lips. “Now that you got my cock all wet,” Bo rubs his length, now slick with his cum and your saliva, “I can stick it in your pussy.” You bite the inside of your cheek and nod, your eyes flicking between his face and his cock. “I know I asked before,” you begin, and Bo moves to place your hand over his cock, “but will it really fit?”

Lord, he was really starting to understand why your friends let you go alone.

“Yeah, I told you, I’ll make it fit.” He lifts you from the back of your legs and places you on top of the counter. He brings his thick fingers to your pussy, sticking a fingertip inside.

You gasp and arch your body into him, throwing your arms around his broad back. Your bare breasts brush up against his chest and he relishes in the contact. 

“That feels really good, Bo!” you cry out. He adds a second finger inside of you, pushing the digits in deeper. He can feel how wet you are and the way you clench around him so desperately. Your hips jerk into him unsteadily, chasing the pleasure his fingers bring you.

He chuckles. “It’ll feel even better when I stick my cock in you.”

Bo removes his fingers, basking in the way you whine as he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing and desperate to be around him. He lines his throbbing cock with your entrance and pushes himself in without hesitation.

“Bo!” You scream, nails digging into his back. Little gasps leave your mouth as he begins to thrust in and out of you. Your pussy grips him like a vice, and it’s difficult for him to move inside you with you so needy for him.

He shushes you, gripping your cheeks and watching as tears leave your eyes.

“It hurts,” you whine to him. Your nails grip onto him as if your life depended on it.

He shoves his face into the crevice of your neck, placing kisses upon it. “Gotta relax a bit for me, okay?” he coos into your ear. “Or it won’t feel good for you.”

“You promise?” you ask through glassy eyes.

He nods, and feels as you unclench just a tad around him. Bo is able to rut himself into you harder now, and he can’t help but be more forceful with his thrusts as it causes your breasts to bounce right in front of him.

“Look at that.” He motions towards where the two of you are connected, his cock pulsing at the way your blood and juices coat the base. “Look at how we're connected now.”

Oh wow,” you gasp in awe. “That’s kinda romantic, huh?”

Bo doesn’t respond. If you wanted to put it that way, he wouldn’t stop you. He ignores the way his heart stutters in his chest.

His hips continue to pound into you, your body bouncing along with the power of his thrusts. The whines that come out of your mouth sound so angelic, and Bo has to fight the urge to kiss you.

“I—I think I’m gonna cum,” you moan out, your head thrown back and your eyes are scrunched up in pleasure.

Bo didn’t need you to tell him that. Your pussy goes back to clenching down on him, your walls tightening around his cock, fitting themselves to the shape of him. He curses quietly into your neck. He never wanted to leave the warmth of your pussy.

“That’s it, baby,” Bo coaxes you. He moves a finger to your clit, enjoying the way you jolt at the newfound sensation as he rubs circles on the bead. “Cum around my cock.”

“Cumming!” Your voice is squeaky as your legs come up to wrap around his backside, and you finally reach your peak. Your pussy tightens around Bo even more, and he can’t help it when he cums for a second time as you squeeze every last drop out of him.

You pant heavily as you come down from your orgasm, sweat rolling down your temples despite the cold air of the station that surrounds the two of you.

Bo’s own breathing is heavy, something he’s not used to much. You squirm out from beneath him as you drop from the counter, legs still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm. You bend down to gather your scraps of clothing, and Bo has to take all of his strength to conceal his groan as he watches his cum slowly leak out of your pussy.

“Leaving so soon?” Bo didn’t know what compelled him to say that. You were just some cute college kid passing through that was a chance to get his dick wet. Yet there was something about you that drew him to you, like a moth to a flame.

You shimmy back into your clothing, and he notices how you ignore the trail of his cum that runs down your thigh. “My friends’ll be mad at me if I take too long getting back.” You pause in your movements. “I can take the gas now, right?”

Bo’s heart drops in his stomach. He realizes quickly that no, he wasn’t going to let you take the gas. In fact, he wasn’t going to let you leave at all. He wanted you—needed you—here with him. He couldn’t let a pretty little thing like you just pass by him like that.

He glances outside quickly. The sky's already turned to a pitch black hue, and he knows there’s no streetlights on your way back to where your friends wait for you. He turns back to you as you stand awaiting his answer.

“It’s pretty dark out there, little lady.” You peek over his shoulder, and your eyes widen as you realize just how late it had gotten. “It ain’t safe for you ta’ be out walkin’ all alone. Why don’t you stay over at my place for the night?”

“B-but what about my friends?” A pout overtakes your face and you look up at Bo with puzzled eyes.

Bo smirks, holding you close to his chest and running a hand over your hair. “Don’t need ta’ worry about them, sweetheart. My brother’ll come an’ fetch ‘em.”

[skiiyoomin]

Hi hi!!! I love all of your writing so much, it's sooo good! I was wondering if you could do some of the MHA boys (specifically Iida and Bakugou, but after them it's up to you) comforting reader (preferably gender neutral) after a panic attack? If not, that's so fine. Again tho, I fucking love all of your writinggg it's so cute!!

ʚft. Bakugou, Iida

ʚCont: fluff⤑Back to navigation

Normally, if Bakugou was woken up at 1:23 am by the annoying ringtone of his phone with an incoming call, he would go back to sleep. But seeing your contact on the bright screen made his brows furrow in confusion, yet he didn´t waste a second picking up the call. What could you possibly need at this hour? Why were you even awake?

He barely manages to say a word before you speak in a panicked state "Katsuki? I´m sorry I woke you up, but please come over. I need you" He could hear the sound of your suffocated breaths, the deep gasps that struggle to reach your lungs. Without hesitation, he throws the sheets off him and slides his shoes on. The walk from his dorm to yours was a blur. His mind was filled with only one thought—you.. After what felt like forever, he reached your door, not bothering with knocking, knowing you´d left it open for him. His breath hitched. You were curled up on the floor, shoulders shaking, struggling for air. His heart clenched.

Your bleary tear-stained eyes were full of panic, and if he looked hard enough maybe he could see your mind spiralling with all sorts of thoughts. In an instant, he was at your side, holding your wet rosy cheeks. His calloused hands were warm against your cold skin, grounding you. You tried opening your mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but he beat you to it. "I´m here, you´re safe"

The gentleness in his tone was enough to send tears flowing down your cheeks once again. His strong arms pulled you close, anchoring you in his warmth.. His familiar scent soothed your overstimulated senses and the feeling of his arms safely secured around you brought a sense of security and safety only he can make you feel. Silence filled your dark room, the only source of light coming from the glow of the moonlight peeking through your curtains. Bakugou’s warm hands traced slow circles on your back, lulling you into sleep after the storm of emotions. Bakugou waited a few more minutes, looking down at your curled-up figure. He ran the back of his hand against the softness of your cheek, pushing back any stray hairs that had slipped out. He then picked you up, placing you under the safety of your bedsheets. Even though he knows he´ll get in trouble for this, he slides in too, tucking you into his chest and letting sleep take over him too.

Iida isn’t exactly known for being comforting. He’s stoic, logical—vulnerability isn’t his thing So when you burst into a panic attack one day behind the privacy of his closed doors he doesn´t know what to do. Your breaths were heavy and tears were running down your cheeks. He hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly before settling around you. Was he doing this right? Was this enough?

The sound of your suffocated breaths hurt him. He hates seeing you like this, but most of all he hates not knowing what to do to comfort you. For once though, he decides not to overthink it so much. So he takes your hand in his and places it on his chest, right where his heart beats in a steady rhythm. "Follow my breath okay? In...out..." He guides in a soothing calm tone. Your watery eyes try to focus on his own, and your breaths try to match his. Your lungs ached, each breath shallow and shaky at first. But you focused on the feeling of his heart beating steadily against his chest, on his soothing tone guiding you.

He felt relief wash over him when your breathing slowly returned back to normal, reassured that you were okay now. He gently tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss against your forehead. "It´s okay, you´re okay" He whispers whilst intertwining his hand with yours. He tucks your head under his chin. The warmth of his fingers threading through your hair sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was grounding. You press your ear against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat drown out the lingering panic. Safe. Grounded. Here.

[charliegyrth]

Mark Wears the Pants

A Weight Gain Story

I met Rob at the pool. I’d just finished my morning swim and he was walking out of the changing room.

I tell people that it was love at first sight, but that’s not really a thing. It was more… lust at first sight, you know?

Rob was exactly my type. He had shaggy blond hair and a long, lean face. His ears were slightly too big, but I found them very cute. He sort of had a swimmer’s body (like me), except his was just a tiny bit too skinny. I think that’s what really did it for me. Even though he had lean muscles all over his body, he looked underfed, like he needed a man to take care of him.

That’s exactly what I liked. Despite being pretty thin myself, I liked dominance. “Wearing the pants in a relationship,” so to speak. Muscly guys were hot, but they always had a bit too much swagger. I didn’t like that.

(I hope I don’t sound too picky. I just know what I like.)

I was going to take my shower, but I decided to stick around a little and watch Rob in the pool. He dove in beautifully, barely making a splash, but his swimming skills were… bad. Terrible, really. He didn’t know what he was doing. He did the breaststroke across the pool, never really settling on a rhythm, and stopped at the edge to catch his breath. He didn’t know how to time his breathing.

I watched him kick off and struggle to make it to the other side. It was obvious that he needed someone to help him, and I really wanted to be that someone.

I strutted over, sunlight drying my body, and crouched near him. “New at swimming, huh?”

He looked up at me, still catching his breath. His eyes glanced down at my bare chest before he met my eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’m Mark.”

“Rob,” he said. “You, uh, swim here a lot, huh?”

“Every day. Maybe I can help you out a bit. You look like a natural swimmer. All you need to do is learn a rhythm.”

He smiled flirtatiously.

I stiffened a little in my trunks. He definitely noticed.

I got back in the pool and showed him all my moves. That meant I got to touch him all over as I showed him different positions in the water. He knew what I was doing, and he was definitely into it, too. His speedo didn’t lie.

By the end of our first swim lesson together, he was able to take several laps without gasping for air, we learned a little about each other, and we both decided to take things back to my place.

***

Rob and I went to the pool every evening that week. Afterwards, we’d have dinner at my place. He’d spend the night but leave in the early morning to get ready for work.

It didn’t take me long to realize that Rob and I were meant for each other.

He was a few years younger than me (23) and had always been “too skinny,” as he said. He had an anxious stomach, which meant he barely ate anything and almost never felt hungry. He was self-conscious of his body, so I always made sure to show him how beautiful he was, how every part of him deserved praise and attention.

Before that first day in the pool, he’d never really exercised and barely had any strength. He thought that swimming would be the best way to get healthier.

And with my help, that’s exactly what happened. Every day, he got stronger and more confident in the pool. Pretty soon, he was strong enough to race me. I always won, of course, but he got closer and closer to matching my time.

I felt so proud of him, especially because I knew that his improvements were because of me.

I also noticed that he was eating more at our dinners. All the time spent at the pool was finally giving him an appetite. Before, he looked a bit anxious at the dinner table. Now, we spent our meals talking and laughing.

After two months of seeing him every day, I invited him to move in with me. He was practically living at my place anyway. Rob was open to the idea, but because his apartment was bigger (and cheaper), we decided that I’d give up my place and move in with him.

That was a bit of an adjustment for me. I wore the pants in the relationship, and I didn’t want that to change by shifting things into his space instead of mine, but he had a point. His apartment was better.

***

Our dynamic started to change after I moved in. I was still in charge (making more money, choosing where we went in the evenings, topping him every night), but his newfound confidence had given him a more forceful personality.

It started with little things. Switching our roles in the bedroom sometimes. Pushing back against my plans. Surprising me with presents instead of the other way around.

I didn’t complain, because I still really liked him. And sex had actually gotten better.

But then he started beating me at the pool. I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was to me. I was the one teaching him, but now he was faster than me?

The first time he beat me, I thought it was a fluke. The second time, I actually got mad.

I’d always been the fastest swimmer I knew. I’d been swimming since high school. I know it sounds petty, but I started skipping some of our pool visits. I hated that he was showing me up.

And then, I noticed that his body was changing. He was still thin, but he’d packed on some muscle, especially in his chest and shoulders. His abs were more defined, too.

I was still bigger than him, but not by a lot.

Then one evening, while I was snacking on potato chips on the couch, Rob walked shirtless into the room. He was getting ready for the pool. “You joining me today?”

I wanted to. I really did. But when I looked up at him and saw his defined pecs, I knew that he was now officially bigger than me. He looked really hot (and I loved his new tan), but I couldn’t swim with him! He’d show me up again.

“Not today, babe. Thanks.”

“Seriously? You haven’t gone to the pool all week.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was right. It had been a week. Probably more. What was happening to me?

“Suit yourself,” he said as he slipped on his shirt. It was actually my shirt, and it clung tight to his broadened shoulders. He kissed my cheek. “Okay, Mark. I’ll pick us up Italian after I’m done.” Then he was gone.

I watched his muscular ass sway under his shorts as he left. He wasn’t wearing literal pants, but for the first time, I knew that Rob was the one wearing the pants in our relationship.

As that realization hit me, I shoved another handful of potato chips into my mouth.

***

I was so focused on Rob’s body that I didn’t realize my own body was changing until a few weeks later. We were in bed together. I felt wonderfully sore.

Rob curled up next to me and his hand lightly grazed my stomach. “I miss swimming with you, Mark.”

“I’ll start back up again,” I said.

He quirked his mouth to the side. He didn’t believe me. “I hope you’re not self-conscious.”

So he knew! He knew that I’d stopped swimming with him because I didn’t like how he was showing me up!

Then he said something that made me shudder. “A lot of chubby guys go to the pool. No one’ll judge you.”

Chubby guys?

What did he mean?

Then I felt him pinch my stomach. I looked down in horror, finally noticing the roll of flab that had formed under my belly button.

I was chubby! Now that I wasn’t swimming, I’d let myself go. While Rob was hardening with muscles, I was turning into a blob.

“Honestly, I think you look wonderful.” He let go of my stomach and slid his hand under the covers. I felt his fingers reach under my ass cheek and squeeze that, too. “More cushion for the pushin’, right?”

I wanted to jump out of bed and look at myself in the mirror. I wanted to scream, too. But instead, I just lay there, frozen, accepting the fact that my stomach and ass were now soft enough to squeeze.

***

In the middle of the night, I got out of bed, careful not to wake Rob up. I snuck into the bathroom and finally saw what I’d become.

I was flabby. My nipples were poking out and a roll of fat hung over my boxers. My arms and legs had lost their definition, and worst of all, my jawline had rounded out with the start of a double chin.

I didn’t look manly anymore. I looked… pampered. I looked like some fat, lazy guy who just sat around and let his boyfriend take care of him.

And honestly, that’s what I was. I’d lost all control of our relationship, and I needed to get it back.

I had to swim again. I had to push myself harder and faster than I ever had before. That way I could lose the fat, gain more muscle than Rob, and change our dynamic back to the way it was supposed to be.

The next morning, I cancelled my morning meetings and went to the pool alone. I was going to keep swimming until I physically couldn’t anymore. I’d be there for hours.

Unfortunately, I was only in the water for twenty minutes. My swim trunks felt uncomfortably tight. My stamina was gone. I used to enjoy swimming. Now, it felt like a struggle.

I got out of the pool, my head hanging in defeat, when I noticed three guys staring at me. Well, they were staring at my wobbling stomach.

I didn’t know their names, but I’d seen them at the pool a lot. They were regulars, like I used to be. One of them looked disgusted at my softer body. The other two just gave me pity.

I raced into the changing room, which caused me to jiggle even more, and had a complete breakdown.

I lost myself and didn’t know how to get back to the old me, the guy I was meant to be.

As I stripped off my straining trunks, I thought long and hard about what I was going to do. I loved Rob, but I wasn’t happy with what our relationship had turned into. And I definitely wasn’t happy that he’d gotten bigger and stronger than me.

That’s when I came to a realization: He wasn’t bigger than me. He’d grown more muscle, but I definitely outweighed him. I didn’t have to be soft and weak anymore. I could be soft and strong. What if I kept growing, if I tried to make myself bigger?

I imagined what I’d look like with twenty more pounds. Fifty. A hundred. It wasn't the body I’d expected to have, but the image turned me on.

I’ll always remember that moment in the changing room. That was when I decided that I was going to make myself enormous.

***

Instead of going to work, I called in sick for the rest of the day, loaded up on pizzas, and stayed at home stuffing myself. I ate more food that day than I ever had before. It was painful, but I loved it.

Before Rob came home, I dumped all the boxes in the trash and sprayed air freshener around the house.

When Rob came back after his evening swim, he brought home Chinese food for us to share. I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t possibly eat anything else.

I sat with him at the table, staring at the food and feeling my stomach throb.

“What’s wrong, Mark? Still feeling self-conscious?”

That gave me the motivation I needed. I pushed through the pain and ate two plates’ worth.

I didn’t push myself as hard after that. I’d gone way too far, and my stomach had gurgled all night.

I continued overeating, though. Pancakes or muffins every morning. Fast food for lunch. And a secret dinner while Rob swam before we ate our real dinner together.

I was proud of myself for how much I could get down, and extra proud that Rob had no idea what I was doing.

He never saw all the wrappers and take-out boxes, but he saw my body. He knew I was growing.

In the span of a month, my stomach went from soft rolls to a round gut. I developed a matching stretchmark on each side. My ass and hips expanded. My double chin grew.

I sort of sprouted moobs, but they weren’t what I’d expected. Rather than fleshy breasts, I developed a small glob of fat under each stretched-out nipple. Those were very noticeable in any shirt I wore, and the way they scratched against the fabric sent shivers through my body whenever I walked.

Rob didn’t directly mention my gains, but he still made comments.

“Maybe we should get you new pants.”

“Why don’t you sit on the couch? More room to spread out.”

“You look very comfortable today.”

My coworkers’ comments were much more direct. And unkind. Most of them had known me as a fit guy for years, so my rapid changes definitely freaked them out.

Whatever. I kinda liked the ridicule. In fact, I made a point of snacking in front of them just to see their faces. They just didn’t see what Rob saw.

Because Rob, despite his avoidance of the topic, showered me with affection. When we sat together, he always had at least one hand on my new belly. Sometimes rubbing it but mostly just feeling it. And when we were in bed together, he grabbed onto every part of me. He probably knew more about my folds and creases than I did.

As I kept growing, I started taking charge again. Rob was more than happy to let me. This happened in the bedroom, where we both loved my weight pressing down on him. But it happened in our normal lives, too. I picked out where we ate. I made the decisions and invited him to places. I surprised him with presents.

By the time I reached 240, there was no denying that in our relationship, I was the big guy wearing the pants while he’d gone back to being my smaller, doting boyfriend.

***

Then one evening, while Rob was at the pool, I sat on the couch with a tray of storebought lasagna in my lap. I was feeling pretty good about myself, proud of how fast I was able to shovel it in.

I was so caught up in chewing and swallowing, though, that I didn’t hear the rain outside.

Rob came home early and caught me! For months, I’d been able to binge in secret, but now he knew.

“Mark!” he said, acting surprisingly nonplussed. “Got rained out at the pool. That pre-dinner looks delicious.”

I gulped down the lasagna in my mouth. “Hi.”

“I assume you’ll still have room for our real dinner. We have reservations, remember?” (I was taking him to Senora Reina’s that night.)

“Uh…”

He sat next to me, draping his thick arm around my shoulder. His muscles hadn’t grown for the last couple months. (With swimming, there’s sort of a limit to how bulky you can get.) “Don’t look so embarrassed, Mark. I know about all your secret meals. I’m not an idiot.”

“But… How? I worked so hard to hide all the evidence.” The dumpster behind our house was constantly filled with all my empty boxes, and I knew he never looked back there.

“Not all the evidence,” he said, grabbing the bottom of my belly and jiggling it.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought it was hotter that way.” He kissed me, licking the tomato sauce from my lips.

“And, um, what do you think?”

He took the fork from my hand and scooped up a chunk of lasagna. “I think you’re big.” (He pressed the food against my lips and waited for me to take it. I did.) “And powerful.” (He fed me again.) “And so f*cking sexy.”

Why had I tried to gain in secret? All this time, I could’ve had Rob feeding me. This was so much better.

As he told me how handsome I was in a hundred different ways, he fed me bite after bite of the lasagna until the whole tray was empty. Then he kissed me, wiped the sauce off my face, and helped me stand up.

“You better start getting ready, Mark. Our dinner reservation is in thirty minutes.”

***

With Rob fully on board, my weight increased much faster than before. He fed me every night. He filled our nightstand with donuts so that he could surprise me with some sugar while I made love to him.

We even tried funnel feedings a few times, but that didn’t really work for us. Too messy, and I didn’t like how it gave Rob total control over me.

My most productive eating sessions, however, happened while Rob swam. I sat on a lounge chair by the pool, feasted on sandwiches or burgers, and watched my boyfriend race across the pool. I no longer felt jealous that he’d gotten so much faster than I'd ever been. I was proud of him, and proud of myself for teaching him everything he knew.

The other swimmers always gave me glares, but because Rob and I were loyal customers (and because Rob taught some swimming classes on the weekends), the owners never bothered me.

***

I’m 333 pounds now. A nice, lucky number. I need help dressing myself, but my mobility is more-or-less fine. I use the jacuzzi sometimes, enjoying the way the water pressure shoots ripples through my fat, but it’s been over a year since I swam. I probably still could. (God knows I’m buoyant enough.) But it’s Rob’s thing now, not mine.

Actually, Rob just got out of the pool, water dripping down his washboard abs. His wet, sun-bleached hair looks particularly golden. He smiles as he approaches me.

“Great job today!” I tell him.

“You, too!” He glances proudly at all the McDonalds wrappers on the lounge chair next to me. He leans over me, blocking out the sun, and we kiss. “Up?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

He grabs me by the upper arms and pulls me into a sitting position. The bottom of my gut slaps loudly against my thighs. (Love that sound.)

Then, with a grunt from both of us, he pulls me to my feet.

“Beautiful day, huh?” I ask.

He takes a long look at what I’ve become. My tanned, sagging gut. My poky chest. My round, smiling face. “Beautiful,” he whispers.

Then we walk together to the changing room. Thankfully (and surprisingly), the stalls are big enough to fit us both.

I watch him change first. He strips off his speedo, giving me one last look at his small yet muscular body. Then he slips on a tank top and shorts.

Now it’s my turn. Even though I never go swimming, I always dress for the pool. (Mostly because it gives us an excuse to share the changing room.) He helps me pull down my own dry trunks. Then he slides on my underwear, playfully letting the tight fabric snap against me.

And he guides my feet into the legs of my 4XL jeans. He takes so much joy in feeling my wide, dimpled hips as he pulls up my jeans. I lift my belly so he can button them at the waist. He struggles.

“Looks like we need to go shopping again,” I say.

“Ooh! Can we?” He loves when I take him to the mall.

You know, it’s funny. I’ve gotten so fat that I can’t even put on my own pants without Rob’s help. But even with the added difficulty that my new body brings, I’m still wearing the pants in the relationship.

The End.

As always, thanks for reading!

This story will always hold a special place in my heart. It was inspired by a suggestion from the very first reader to reach out to me on Tumblr. He deleted his profile like a week later. Not sure how to interpret that. (But if you're out there somewhere, thanks for all the kind messages.)

If anyone else has a scenario or idea that they want me to write about, please reach out. I'd love to hear from you.

You can find all my stories here. And if you're interested, I included Mark Wears the Pants as the bonus story in my ebook Go with the Flow. It's about a surfer who gets very, very fat.

[aventoru]

morning routine

warning(s) : doesn't make sense bc it's not supposed to, a parody of ashton hall, crack+fluff

a/n : those crazy morning routines have taken over my fyp and i was reminded of kaiser's morning affirmations 😭

4:05 am

kaiser wakes up to the worst alarm known to man — the DEFAULT one. you’re quick to take the pillow from underneath you and smack him in the face. he smacks you back and it turns into a pillow fight. once that settles down, kaiser gets up from his luxury bed with silk sheets worth thousands of dollars and uses a remote to open the blinds. too much sunlight pours in and he’s nearly blinded by it (everybody in the comments knows this was filmed at 11am).

4:36 am

kaiser stands in front of a bowl filled with ice and pours water into it, then he proceeds to dunk his head in. you are seen walking past him in the background and fully push his head in. the football player panics and quickly lifts his head, turning around to glare at you. you cackle hysterically at his appearance. his frown deepens at that. “you look like a wet cat,” you say in between laughter. the comments agree with you.

5:17 am

kaiser arranges, then rearranges the stuffed animals on his bed (courtesy of you). he then repeatedly punches a plushie of oikawa tooru, your favorite character from the anime haikyu. you’ve shown him the video of the oikawa plushie abuse, so of course he knows what he’s doing. kaiser thinks if he’s already hopping on one trend, he might as well do all of them.

5:49 am

kaiser reads his daily affirmations out loud. he’s standing in front of the mirror, and the only thing he’s wearing is the hello kitty pajama pants hanging low on his waist. “nothing is impossible. you’re god’s chosen emperor. you’re better than isagi yoichi,” he repeats. you walk past, chiming in, “and you also bagged a hottie like (name)” before slapping his butt. he yelps as his concentration breaks and returns the gesture.

6:23 am

you and kaiser throw a party in the living room to “wake yourselves up”. the blinds are closed shut with the only source of light being the disco ball spinning above your heads. you’re still in your pajamas wearing sunglasses with microphones in your hands. 2014-2016 USUK pop songs are blasted through the speakers and you two sing along passionately. you’re surprised the neighbors haven’t filed a noise complaint.

6:54 am

kaiser gets ready for his job, you get ready for yours. he has the worst bedhead with that haircut, so you always help him in that aspect. on the other hand, he helps you choose an outfit. “you look good, babe,” he smirks as you two do an outfit check in front of the camera. “i know i do,” you respond cheekily. as a finishing touch, kaiser sprays on his godawful, headache-inducing cologne. you regret standing so close to your lover.

7:02 am

after you’re both looking prim and proper, you stand at the front door to put on your shoes. kaiser ties the laces on his cleats and before you could pick out your own pair of shoes, he beats you two it. he bends down and inserts each shoe onto your leg, fingers gently grazing your ankles. you blush at his gentle gesture and kaiser stands up. you two walk out the door together hand-in-hand.

7:03 am

you two walk straight back in and take your shoes off. it’s a day off, which is why you both have time to film this in the first place. you both get unready, and kaiser dunks his face in a bowl of ice again. this time, he forces you to do it with him.

7:33 am

kaiser teaches you how to play football in his massive backyard. there’s a mini goal set up as he teaches you to shoot. now, he’s standing opposite of you, acting as the goalie as you take your best shot. you kick the ball in decent form, just like how he taught you. the ball stays in the air for 4 minutes—

7:37 am

—then it lands on his face. you gasp as kaiser falls down, quickly rushing to his side. the damage is minimal that won’t stop him from using this to his advantage. he whines and rolls around on the grass, reaching a hand out for you two pull him up and when you grab it, he pulls you down with him. “you’re so childish, micha!” you smack him on the chest. he just smirks in return. you’re both dirty and sweaty now, but at least he’s gotten his revenge.

8:00 am

after cleaning up, you take kaiser to a flying yoga class. at some point he gets tangled in the fabric, dangling in mid-air. you nearly die of laughter as you take the opportunity to spin him around like a helicopter. he dies a little on the inside and you feel a sense of victory over the famous athlete.

8:41 am

kaiser makes you breakfast, which you enjoy together. with his athlete diet though, the foods he can consume are limited. so, after the healthy breakfast, you decide to treat yourself to dessert (aka more sugar than kaiser’s allowed in a lifetime). kaiser gives you a look of concern which soon morphs into one of affection.

you both are a little chaotic, but that makes you perfect for each other.

comment section

h1or1 : most sane morning routine 😭

bachira.m : @/isagiyoichi can’t catch a break

iluvkaiser: oikawa is anywhere but nationals

⤷ (name) : @/iluvkaiser HELP 💔

saeitoshiseyelash : (name) is a hottie

⤷ (name) : @/saeitoshiseyelash shidou i know it’s you

⤷ michaelkaiser : @/saeitoshiseyelash leave.

nikooo : 4 minutes in the air is crazy work 💀

[chimielie]

“I really like this place,” Yachi says brightly, “the owner is really nice, and he doesn’t mind when I take ten minutes to decide what I want. Once I took twenty minutes and he actually just brought me food, like, decided for me, and at first I thought that was so nice! Then I got worried that maybe I should be upset that he didn’t let me choose, but then I remembered that I could just come here again so I wasn’t missing out on anything. The food was really good, anyway.”

You hover between the cool interior of the restaurant and the summer daylight as she speaks, unwilling to walk away even though she’s holding the door open and probably letting all the cold air out. With a short yelp, she realizes how long the two of you have been standing there and crosses inside. You stand behind her in the line behind the counter, shuffling forward as you read the posted menu.

“I think I’m gonna get the salmon,” you decide. “Hey, so how are things with that girl you’ve been seeing?”

“They’ve been good!” You’re about three people away from the counter, but the first one is line is like, a really huge guy with a booming voice who has been talking forever. Maybe he knows the cashier? “She’s really pretty, and she doesn’t mind or get impatient when I’m anxious. She also gets anxious!”

“That’s great?” You pat her on the shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, Yachi.”

“Me too,” she beams at you. “What about you? Have you met anyone?”

“No,” you snort. “I’m on the apps. So dating is basically a cesspool.” The giant guy who was ordering seems to be done now, but he’s still talking, being slowly dragged away by the elbow by a guy in a cardigan and glasses. You slide your phone out of your pocket and open your dating profile. “See?”

At that moment, your phone pings with a new notification.

Atsumu liked you!

He’s not… bad looking. If you saw him in real life, you’d probably hide behind a bench or something and stalk him with your eyes just so you could look at him as long as you wanted, actually.

He’s your age, a pro volleyball player, his hair dark where it’s been shaved short on the sides but dyed blond up top. He has a kind of sardonic, dead-eyed expression in all of his photos that you think is really funny.

My love language is… arguing in missionary.

You smother a laugh.

“He’s kind of cute!” Yachi peers at your phone. “Kind of scary…”

“Please, I could beat him up,” you laugh. “I don’t know, he’s fine, I guess.”

You swipe left. He’s hot, but definitely a fuckboy. You’ve reached the counter, anyway, and a pro athlete on the apps is like, so many red flags.

You look up at the cashier.

You look down at your phone and click undo. The profile reappears.

You look up at the cashier.

“Fine, you guess?” Scowls Atsumu, 23, (volley)baller. Or maybe not, considering his Onigiri Miya apron. “Welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for ya. Geez.”

He talks in Kansai dialect, you note, which you’ve always thought is melodic. Pretty.

In real life, Atsumu is very pretty. His eyes have midtones of honey and amber that don’t show up on photo and give him a sparkling dimension that sort of detracts from his aura of evil. Even though he’s scowling at you, you want to ruffle his hair and bite his cheek.

“Um, I’ll have the salmon ball,” you say. “And, yeah. I guess.”

He scribbles so hard he breaks the tip of his pencil. With a grunt of disgust, he tosses both notepad and pencil over his shoulder.

“What, pro athlete not good enough for ya?” He points at Yachi, who squeaks. “And for ya?”

“What?” She says, looking terrified. You put a bracing hand on her shoulder.

“Your order,” he drawls.

“Oh! I don’t know.”

“Two salmon balls!” He yells to the back. “‘S on the house.”

“What?” Yachi gasps. “We couldn’t possibly—”

“You’re clearly not a professional athlete,” you say. “You’re a cashier.”

“This is charity work!” He snaps. “My teammate is right over there if ya need proof. I’m Miya Atsumu—this is my brother’s shop. I help him out on my off days.” He emphasizes his family name, underlining it on his apron with a finger.

That’s really sweet. You swoon a little inside, then shake yourself.

“You’re off every time this time this week?”

“Yeah, about,” he turns and bends over to grab his hastily discarded notepad. You do not make a secret of checking out his ass and quirk your lips into a smile when he turns back around, one he matches with reckless abandon. He has nice teeth, not perfectly straight, that imply that maybe he didn’t need braces growing up.

“Let me repay you for the meal,” you put a hand on the counter and lean across it, biting your lip, stomach singing with nerves. “Eight, next week?”

“Nah,” he shrugs you off, gestures for you to move along so he can get to the next customer in line. Your stomach drops, and so must your face. “Too far away. I’ll see ya this Friday for dinner.”

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 23. Aetos vs Aetos

Summary: After being pushed too far by her brother one last time, Dahlia challenges Dain in front of the entire Quadrant. Will Dain come to regret his words? Or will he put Dahlia in her place? Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

I don’t expect the room to go as silent as it does. But this might just be the quietest I’ve heard the Quadrant since I got here. You could probably hear a pin drop it was that damn quiet. Everyone was looking between Dain and I.

I turn my head to look at Dain who is looking at me with shock, while on his left Imogen beams at me as if I’ve given her the best present of her life. I turn my head, walking over to the mat that freed up next to me, the sound of footsteps following me from across the room. I turn to see Dain stopped at the edge of the mat looking at me. I can tell he doesn’t want to do this. If word gets back to our father about this he won’t be pleased, and Dain knows this. But you couldn’t deny a challenge. If you did it was an automatic loss. Something Dain would not want on his perfect record. But there’s no denying the battle he’s having in his head as he stares me down.

I hold his eyes as I reach down and take a dagger from one of my sheaths, his eyes following the movement. His eyes meet mine again as he reaches down and grasps his own daggers before stepping onto the mat. And I can’t help but smile as he accepts my challenge. The room is still quiet as we slowly circle each other, all eyes on us. I was surprised Emmetiro hadn’t told them to all go back to their challenges. But even he stood there and watched us.

”Don’t do this Dahlia.” Dain pleads with me quietly so only I can hear.

”I have to.” I tell him sternly as I grasp my dagger tightly.

He opens his mouth to respond, quickly snapping it shut as I make the first move. We both knew how to use daggers, it was one of the first things we were trained to use as kids. Spending countless hours in the training rings together learning how to use them. Back then we just sparred for fun, no ill intent behind the daggers or fighting. But now everything had changed. I wasn’t out to kill him. I never would be despite how he had treated me. But I needed to show him I was not to be messed with. That he no longer held power over me. Could no longer use what had happened against me. And if he ever tried to turn someone against me again, I would make him pay.

He easily blocks my first attacks, which I had expected. Dain was always good at blocking and deflecting, both with a weapon and his words. I could see it required more effort than he would have liked. We hadn’t trained together since before that day. He no longer knew how I fought, or my strengths and weaknesses. Even here he had only seen me fight a few times. And he falls right into my trap. He lunges at me, his dagger slicing through the air with deadly speed. I easily sidestep his attack, deflecting his blade with my own as a metallic clang echoes in the room, a few gasps coming from the cadets around us.

”Sloppy. I see you’ve been neglecting your dagger training.” I mutter, twisting my wrist as I bring my dagger in a sharp arc towards his side.

He grunts as he drops low, narrowly avoiding the strike, sweeping his leg out in an attempt to trip me. Like I said. Sloppy. I easily leap back out of the way, slashing my dagger downwards in retaliation. Our daggers connect again, a sharp ring sounding as the metal of the blades scrape against each other as we stare each other down.

”Why are you doing this?” He growls out as we push back and forth, Dain stumbling as we turn on the mat.

”Because I am sick of you trying to make my life miserable. Of trying to wreck any chance of happiness I have.” I snap back.

His eyes dart to the side and I follow his eyes to see Garrick and Bodhi looking at us. “They won’t make you happy Dahlia. They’re probably using you. They can’t be trusted.”

”And yet I trust them more than you.” I snap at him as I push him away from me, sending him stumbling backwards as he tries to right himself.

I use his stumbling to my advantage, rushing forward as I unleash a flurry of quick strikes which he barely deflects. Dain grunting with effort has he fends me off, before ducking under a swing I over estimate. He swings his dagger towards my shoulder, and I twist just in time as the blade barely grazes my shirt.

I feign shock, grasping at my shoulder as if he’s landed the strike and Dain takes the bait, rushing forward and slicing his dagger upwards towards my neck. I vaguely register the sound of someone yelling no before I catch Dain’s wrist mid strike, my other hand raising my blade in an upwards arc as it meets his mark, blood spirting out from his chin as I slice it open. Dain freezes as I adjust my hold on the dagger, twirling it in my fingers as I hold it to his neck. Our eyes locked in an intense stare.

”Yield.” I almost growl out as I snarl at him.

Dain grunts as he struggles in my hold. “Never.”

I feel as Dain shifts his weight, his stance shifting as he drives his knee up towards my stomach. Normally an opponent would drop their grip in an effort to get away. But we were both taught this move. So I know exactly how to counter it. I step around the leg he’s driving up towards my stomach, loosening my grip on his wrist as I swap my hands, my empty hand pressing down on his neck. I feel his weight shift off balance with the movement, and I use my momentum to push him down towards the mat. He lands on his back with a loud thud as I pin him to the mat, grasping the dagger tightly as I raise it above him.

For a few moments we just stare at each other, the whole room watching and waiting to see what happens. Dain struggling against me as I continue to pin him to the mat, blood running down his cheek and neck from the gash across his chin, his hands trying to push and shove me away. I watch the shift in his eyes as he realises there's nothing he can do. His hand falling to the mat as he taps three times.

I push off him, looking down at him as he lays at my feet, not even making an effort to move as he looks up at me. His eyes shift to my hand as I unsheathe the other dagger, tossing it and the one I’d used onto the mat next to him. I hear everyone mumble in confusion. Only those who had been disarmed handed over their weapons. Dain knows what this means though. Those daggers were a matching set to his. Gifted to both of us when we first started training by our father. Long before the incident. They were the only weapon I was ever gifted from him, the rest I had paid for myself, or earned in fights. With them now discarded on the floor at Dain’s feet, I was now rid of anything tying me to my father.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝒫𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔯𝔢𝔧𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 Until dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Meeting them an year after the prank and Hannah and Beth’s disappearance. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Romance and/or smut. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set during the events of the game at chapter 1. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Pinning. Anal sex. Sex in the open. Matt and Emily broke-up before the events of the game. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Chris is a flirt.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words counts: 9000 words (around 2000 for each character).

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝓂𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

You sat on the bench just outside the cabin, the cold biting at your exposed fingers as you scrolled through your phone for the hundredth time that evening. Your heart was doing its best impression of a jackhammer as you opened your chat history with Mike Munroe yet again.

The threads were littered with messages, both casual and charged, and no matter how many times you scrolled through them, you couldn’t stop your face from heating up at his words.

Your thumb hovered over one conversation in particular, a mix of texts and a photo that had been on your mind all day for weeks.

Mike [7:13 PM]: So I just left the gym. Guess what I saw?

You [7:15 PM]: A treadmill that wasn’t terrified of you for once?

Mike [7:16 PM]: Wow, rude. My cardio game is STRONG.

You [7:18 PM]: Sure it is. What’d you actually see?

Mike [7:20 PM]: Someone broke one of the bench press racks.

You [7:21 PM]: He broke it? Like snapped it in half?

Mike [7:23 PM]: Nah, he was just being an idiot and overloaded it without a spotter. It cracked. Dude nearly took his head off.

You [7:25 PM]: Jesus. That’s terrifying.

Mike [7:27 PM]: You tell me.

He followed the message with a photo. You’d stared at it for longer than you’d ever admit.

In the picture, Mike stood in the gym. Behind him, the cracked bench press was visible, but your eyes had been glued to his frame for far too long. Sweat glistening on his skin, his simple white tank top clinging to his broad chest. His hair was slightly mussed, strands sticking to his forehead, and there was a teasing grin on his face, one brow raised in a way that screamed smug.

You could still feel the way your face had burned after seeing that photo. He was infuriating in the best way possible.

The soft thud of snow against your chest startled you so completely that your phone slipped slightly from your grasp. You barely managed to grab it before it hit the bench, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you looked down at the patch of snow now scattered across your clothes.

A triumphant shout rang out and you looked up to see Mike standing a little ways up the slope, his grin wide and victorious. “Bullseye! Right in the heart!”

Your lips twitching into an unwilling smile. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” he replied, jogging down the hill toward you, his cocky grin never faltering. “That was an incredible shot. You’ve gotta give me some credit.”

“Credit for assaulting me?” you shot back, though the humor in your tone betrayed your mock annoyance.

“Hey, it’s a tradition,” Mike said as he reached the bench. Without breaking stride, he vaulted over the wooden fence separating the path from the seating area, landing beside you with graceful ease. He plopped down on the bench so close to you that his knee pressed against yours, the faint scent of his cologne and winter air clinging to him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Now,” he said, pulling you just slightly closer, “you gonna forgive me, or do I need to buy you a hot chocolate to make it up to you?”

Your laugh came despite yourself and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “You think one hot chocolate is gonna cut it?”

Mike gasped theatrically, his free hand clutching his chest. “I thought you knew I was a man of many talents, but clearly, I’ve been underestimated.”

“And what talents are those, exactly?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“For starters, I have an excellent aim. That’s already been proven. I also happen to be fantastic at keeping people warm. Very cozy. Ten out of ten, highly recommended.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips made it clear you weren’t entirely serious.

“Ridiculous or amazing?” Mike asked, tilting his head in mock thought. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of his arm around you and the easy humor in his voice made it hard to keep up any pretense of annoyance. “So,” he said after a moment, his tone softening slightly, “how are you doing? Really.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “I’m… okay,” you said after a moment, though the uncertainty in your voice was impossible to miss.

Mike’s grip on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly, a silent reassurance as he waited for you to continue.

“It’s just…” you began, your voice quieter now. “I wasn’t sure about coming here. I mean, after everything that happened with Josh’s sisters…”

Mike nodded, his expression growing more serious. “Yeah, I get that. It’s… a lot, being back here.”

“I was surprised he invited me,” you admitted, your fingers brushing over the hem of your coat. “It’s not like we were super close, you know? And with everything that happened, it just feels…” You trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Weird?” Mike offered gently.

“Yeah,” you said with a small nod. “

Mike was quiet for a moment, his thumb absently brushing over your shoulder. Then, with a small, playful smile, he said, “Well, at least there’s one good thing about you being here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Me,” he replied, his grin widening.

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I try,” he said with a wink, but his tone shifted to something softer as he continued. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you came. And if you ever feel like it’s too much, or you’re not sure if you belong here, you can come to me. Anytime.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you found yourself looking up at him, your chest tightening slightly at the warmth in his expression. “Thanks, Mike,” you said softly.

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for,” he replied, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The sound of soft crunching snow caught your attention and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something moving just beyond the bench. You turned your head slightly and were greeted by the sight of a magnificent, curious elk with wide, inquisitive eyes and soft fur that glistened under the sunlight.

Beside you, Mike’s arm instinctively tightened around your shoulders, his fingers pressing against your jacket in a protective squeeze. It was only when he took in the elk’s nonchalant demeanor that his tension eased.

“Careful,” he said softly, his voice low and cautious.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, your tone calm as you gently slipped out from under his arm, much to his clear disappointment. He sat back, watching as you reached for your bag.

Fishing through it, you found the remainder of a snack you hadn’t finished earlier. Unwrapping it, you extended your hand toward the elk, holding the fruit out in your palm.

The elk stepped closer, its warm breath brushing against your hand as it sniffed at the offering. With surprising gentleness, it began nibbling on the fruit, its large tongue lapping at your palm as it ate. You chuckled softly, the sensation tickling your skin, and Mike fell silent, his gaze fixed on you.

He couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic about the way you smiled, your laugh so unguarded and genuine as you interacted with the massive animal. The sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in your hair and illuminating your face in a way that left Mike completely mesmerized. His mind spun with thoughts he couldn’t quite put into words.

God, you looked so good like this.

He glared at the elk. That thing was getting all of your attention and he found himself growing annoyed with the creature.

“Lucky bastard,” Mike muttered under his breath as he drank in the sight of you.

When the snack was finished, the elk gave your hand one last affectionate lick before lifting its head and turning away, ambling back into the trees with a serene grace that only added to Mike’s begrudging admiration of the animal.

As you looked down, brushing the moisture from your hands, your gaze fell on the perfect mound of snow at your feet. An idea struck, and your lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention. “Could you check my bag? I think I might’ve left my phone in there.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,” Mike said, blinking as he snapped out of his trance. He leaned forward, reaching for your bag with a slight frown of concentration.

The second his focus shifted, you bent down, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it quickly into a tight ball.

By the time Mike turned back to you, his hand holding your bag the snowball has already been launched, striking him squarely in the chest.

“Bullseye!” you declared, grinning triumphantly as the snow splattered across his jacket. “Right in the heart!”

Mike stared down at the mess for a moment, then looked up at you with wide eyes and an exaggerated expression of betrayal.

“That’s it,” he said, dropping the bag unceremoniously onto the bench as he bent down to scoop up a handful of snow, his voice a mix of disbelief and humor. “You’re dead.”

He soon hurled a snowball at you. You dodged to the side, laughing as the snow missed you by inches and you started collecting more snow for your next attack.

What followed was a chaotic, exhilarating flurry of snowballs and laughter as the two of you launched attack after attack, dodging and weaving across the snow-covered ground.

The next throw was fast and while you managed to shield yourself with your arm, it distracted you just long enough for Mike to close the distance. He tackled you rapidly, his arms wrapping around you as the two of you tumbled onto the soft, powdery snow.

You landed on your back with Mike hovering over you, his weight carefully balanced so he didn’t crush you. His face was flushed from the cold and exertion, but his grin was wide and triumphant, his breath visible in the chilly air.

“Gotcha,” he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands pinned your wrists gently in the snow.

Your laughter faded as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

The intensity in his gaze was unmistakable, his usual playful demeanor softening into something deeper as he took in the sight of you your flushed cheeks, your bright smile, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.

His heart was pounding in his chest.

Mike’s hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his grin turned softer, more sincere. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured, his voice warm and full of meaning.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both bold and tender.

The snowy ground beneath you was cold, but the heat radiating from Mike’s body made it feel distant. His kiss deepened, growing more fervent, his lips capturing yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

His arms encircled your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him, your bodies pressed so closely together that you could feel every contour of his broad, muscular frame.

The kiss was unrelenting, his tongue exploring every part of your mouth with a possessive fervor. His light beard scraped against your skin, the sensation adding a sharp edge to the soft heat of his lips.

When he finally pulled away, both of you gasping for air, he didn’t go far. His mouth trailed down your jawline, leaving a burning path of open-mouthed kisses. He moved to your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there before sucking lightly, his tongue darting out to soothe the marks he left.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless.

You shivered beneath him, your hands clutching at his jacket as he kissed lower, his teeth grazing your collarbone. His hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly as his mouth returned to your neck, sucking and nipping with a mix of tenderness and urgency.

When his lips found yours again, the kiss was almost brutal in its intensity. His tongue slid against yours, dipping into your mouth to claim and explore, the wet, heated clash of it making your head spin. He shifted his weight slightly, pressing you further into the snow, his hands moving with purpose as he tugged at the waistband of your pants.

The question was silent but clear, his dark eyes meeting yours with an unspoken need. You nodded quickly, unable to trust your voice not to betray how desperate you felt in that moment.

His lips quirking into a brief, cocky grin before his focus returned to his task.

He pushed your pants down just far enough to expose your ass, the cool air biting at your skin for only a moment before his hand was there, warm and firm, kneading the soft flesh. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you slowly at first, the friction maddening in its contrast to the urgency in the rest of his movements.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and rough as he watched your reactions. “So perfect. All mine.”

The words sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching as his fingers pressed against your entrance. He didn’t waste time, his impatience evident as he worked his fingers inside, the stretch a sharp but delicious contrast to the heat building in your core.

His mouth returned to your neck, lips and teeth working in tandem to leave marks that were sure to bloom into dark bruises. His free hand continued to stroke you, the combined sensations pulling soft moans from your lips that only seemed to spur him on.

“Let me hear you. Let me know how good I’m making you feel,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, your body arching into his touch as he added another finger, the stretch pushing you closer to the edge. His movements were fast, efficient, as if he couldn’t wait a second longer.

When he finally deemed you ready, he withdrew his fingers, the loss leaving you gasping. He leaned back slightly, his hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants as he freed himself, the sight of his length sending a mix of anticipation and nervousness through you. He was big, thick and achingly hard, the head glistening with precum as he stroked himself once, twice, before positioning himself at your entrance.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though the urgency in his movements remained.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you braced yourself. Slowly, he pushed forward, the thick head stretching you in a way that was both intense and indescribably good

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he slid further inside, the tight heat of you nearly driving him mad.

The stretch was overwhelming but addictive, each inch filling you in a way that left you gasping. Mike paused once he was fully seated, his breath ragged as he let you adjust.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself still.

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured, “Good,” he rasped, his voice thick with pleasure as his hands roamed your body.

He pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in, the force of it sending a shudder through your body. His rhythm started slow, deliberate, but quickly grew faster, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, until the cold snow beneath you felt like a distant memory.

One hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face up so he could kiss you again, the angle messy and desperate as his tongue delved into your mouth.

The noises spilling from you only seemed to drive him further, his hips snapping against yours with a growing intensity. His hand left your jaw to grip your length again, stroking you in time with his thrusts, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, his voice rough and breathless as he buried himself deep inside you.

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body tightening around him as your release built to a crescendo.

“Come for me, I want to feel you.” He murmured, his tone commanding yet tender.

With a cry of his name, you came, your body clenching around him as your release spilled over his hand.

The sensation of you tightening around him was enough to send him over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust into you one last time, his release spilling deep inside you as his body trembled with the force of it.

Mike collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of emotion.

And in that moment, with both of you painting heavily from the heat despite the cold surrounding you two, everything felt perfect.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

The crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound breaking the silence as you trudged down the icy trail, your breath visible in the frigid mountain air from cursing softly to yourself. The bag with your clothes was still in your car at the base of the mountain. Now you had to descend the trail and take the cable car again, with the sun already starting its lazy dip below the horizon.

Halfway down the path, you spotted Matt sitting on a rock, his shoulders slumped under the weight of unseen burdens.

His usually sunny demeanor had been replaced with a shadowed expression, his body language heavy and defeated. When he noticed you, he straightened, his dark eyes lighting up momentarily before dimming again, his face attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, the lodge is that way, you know,” he called, his voice tinged with forced humor as he gestured up the mountain.

You sighed, brushing a hand through your face as you tried not to think about all the long path you still had to do. “Yeah, I know, big guy. I left my damn bag with my clothes in the car.” You gestured vaguely down the path, your tone dry. “So now I’m on an impromptu adventure to go get it before the sun sets and I freeze my ass off”

Matt pushed himself up, brushing snow off his jacket. “You’re going down there? Now?” There was a faint note of concern in his voice. “It’s getting late.”

“Not like I have a choice.” You gave him a crooked smile, shrugging. “I’ve got these, don’t worry.” You flexe an arm in an exaggerated manner, earning a faint chuckle from him.

“Right,” he said, his grin flickering but quickly fading. His gaze dropped to the snow for a moment, as if he were weighing something heavy. Then, hesitantly, he glanced up again. “Mind if I, uh, tag along? You know, to keep you company…” His voice faltered briefly, but he picked it up again with a nervous laugh.

There was a vulnerability in his expression that tugged at you. His usual playful energy was subdued, like a lamp turned down to its lowest setting. It was unlike him this quietness.

“Sure,” you said, stepping forward and reaching out to grip his arm lightly. Your fingers brushed against the solid muscle beneath his jacket and he stiffened slightly under your touch, blinking at you in surprise. His throat went dry and his thoughts raced in a jumble of half-formed realizations.

You probably didn’t mean anything by it. But God, it felt like more. He tried not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering to you.

He had always admired you. You’d always been a little out of his league, at least in his mind, but that didn’t stop the small crush he’d harbored before everything went sideways. He thought about the way you smiled, the way you’d always been so kind to him. Maybe this was his chance to be someone you could see as more than just a friend.

For a beat, he didn’t say much, just walked alongside you in silence until you were face to face with the cabin. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. “Uh, I could help with your luggage, you know. If it’s too heavy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your curiosity piqued. “luggage?” you teased lightly, quirking your lips into a smirk, “Matt, it’s just a bag. I can manage carrying my own clothes.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his gaze dropping to the snowy ground. “Seems like that’s all I’m good for, anyway.” His tone was soft, mostly murmured just for himself, but you caught the self-deprecating edge to it instantly.

You stopped walking, turning to face him with an offended look on your face. Matt nearly tripped over his own feet trying to stop alongside you.

“Matt,” you said, crossing your arms and fixing him with a look. “You cannot be serious right now. That’s all you think you’re good for? Carrying stuff? For other people?”

He blinked at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Don’t even try to defend yourself,” you stepped closer and poked a finger lightly against his chest. He looked down at your hand, the warmth spreading across his cheeks making him look ridiculously adorable.

“You’re telling me that’s all you’re good for? So what about all those insane jumps you pulled off last winter for your team? Or the fact that you can probably outrun anyone in your sport group? I'm still convinced you could play blindfolded. Not to mention your ridiculous strength. I mean, seriously, have you seen your arms?”

“I-uh… I guess—“ Matt stumbled with his own words at the series of compliments thrown his way.

“I’m not done,” you interrupted, a playful edge to your tone as you continued, stepping even closer. “It’s nice to be with you. You’re fun. People like you, Matt. I should be offended on your behalf for even thinking something so dumb. You’re so much more than that.”

Matt stood there frozen for a moment, his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Finally, he let out a breathless laugh, his face breaking into a shy, almost bashful smile.

"Uh… wow," he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly. "I, uh… I didn't know you thought about me like that.”

"Of course I do," you grinned, giving his arm a playful squeeze before turning back to the trail. “Now come on, Matt. We still have a long way to go.”

As he followed you inside the cabin, his mind was spinning. The way you’d smiled at him, the way your voice had been filled with both teasing warmth and genuine sincerity flipped something in him. Any lingering doubt he’d had about his feelings for you dissolved right then and there.

Matt was officially, unequivocally head over heels.

The cabin swayed slightly as you stepped inside and took a seat close together, the old structure emitting a low groan that sent an unsettling vibration through your feet. You reached out instinctively, your hand landing on Matt's arm to steady yourself. His bicep tensed under your grip, solid and warm, the fabric of his jacket doing little to mask the muscles beneath.

Matt's breath hitched and his gaze darted to your hand for a split second before snapping back to your face. He noticed the way your expression tightened, your lips pressing into a thin line as you glanced out the window.

He didn't say anything, not wanting to draw attention to your nervousness.

When the cabin finally stabilized, the creaking subsiding, you exhaled in relief and your grip on his arm loosened. You pulled your hand back, murmuring something about how rickety the cabin felt, but Matt barely registered your words.

A pang of disappointment tugged at his chest.

He had already missed the moment, hadn't he? He cursed himself silently, his heart aching at how quickly the fleeting connection had slipped away.

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as the cable car began its slow descent. You stared out the window, your face lit softly by the golden hues of the setting sun.

You didn't notice it at first, but when Matt turned to look at you fully, the sadness on his face was unmistakable. It was the same defeated look you'd seen earlier when you'd first run into him, only this time it cut deeper, like a wound reopening.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked suddenly, his voice low, almost a whisper. His eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart twist. "With Emily, I mean. What could I have done differently?"

You turned to face him, your brow furrowing as frustration bubbled quietly in your chest. "Matt…" you started, your tone soft but firm. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But-"

"No, listen to me." You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder and his breath hitched again, his gaze flicking briefly to your hand before returning to your face. "You keep talking like you have to justify what happened, like if you had just been better somehow, she wouldn't have left. But that's not fair to you, Matt. Not even close."

He opened his mouth to protest, but you didn't give him the chance. The words came tumbling out, your frustration mingling with the need to comfort him. "You can't keep putting yourself in her shoes, trying to figure out what you did wrong when the truth is, you didn't deserve to be treated the way she treated you. You deserve good things too, you know?"

Matt's lips parted, but he said nothing, his throat working as he swallowed hard.

"And for the record," you added, a hint of teasing creeping into your voice to soften the intensity of your words, "It’s her loss. She's going to regret losing the best boyfriend she ever had. Meanwhile, you'll be off living your best life."

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at the ground. "You really think that?"

"I know that," you replied, grinning now.

The smile on Matt's face grew, spreading slowly until it lit up his entire expression. He looked back up at you, his dark eyes shining with something warm, something vulnerable. For the first time in what felt like forever, he believed he deserved something good.

And right now, that good thing was sitting inches away from him.

You smiled back, though the intensity of his gaze when he looked up again sent a jolt through you. His face lit with an expression you couldn't quite place but it made your heart race all the same. You realized, belatedly, just how close the two of you had leaned toward each. His knee pressed against yours, his breath warm against your cheek as the cabin swayed gently.

Matt hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between yours as if searching for permission. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he raised a hand and cradled your cheek, his palm broad and calloused but impossibly gentle. Your breath caught as his thumb brushed lightly against your skin and before you could second-guess the moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The cable car rocked gently as the winter landscape stretched endlessly beyond the frosted windows. The dying light of the sunset bathed the mountains in fiery hues, the soft orange and pinks painting the snow with an ethereal glow. It was breathtaking. Something you'd expect to see on a postcard or an oil painting.

But as stunning as the scenery was, it couldn't hold a candle to what was happening inside the cabin.

Your hands were pressed against the cold surface of the mirror door, its frosted sheen reflecting the two of you in the dim light. Matt's sturdy body was flush against your back, his warmth sinking through your clothes and grounding you against the cool glass. A pair of warm lips were on your neck, slow and deliberate, each kiss sending a ripple of heat down your spine.

"Is this okay?" he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was soft, tentative, but there was an underlying hunger in it that made your stomach tighten.

You nodded, a small sound of affirmation slipping from your lips as his hands roamed over your body, strong and sure yet trembling ever so slightly.

One of them slid down to cup your ass, his fingers flexing against the curve as he pressed you closer to him. The heat of his touch burned through the fabric of your pants, making your breath hitch. Matt paused, his lips lingering against your neck as his grip faltered for a moment.

"I want to make sure you're okay," he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and desire.

"I'm okay," you assured him, your voice breathy but steady. Turning your head slightly, you caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "I want this, Matt. I want you."

His eyes darkened at your words, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed his forehead briefly to the back of your head. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Matt's hands moved to your waistband, his fingers hesitating for a moment before undoing the button and zipper. He slid your pants and underwear down, baring you to the cool air of the cabin. His hands returned to your skin immediately, kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he let out a low, reverent sigh.

"You're so… perfect," he murmured, almost to himself, as his hands explored you.

Broad palms sliding over your hips, thumbs brushing the curve of your spine, fingers dipping lower to tease. He was taking his time, making sure you felt every ounce of his care and adoration.

When one finger pressed gently against your entrance, he paused again. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice earnest. His movements were careful and deliberate as he pressed the finger in slowly. The stretch was slight but noticeable and he paused to let you adjust, his free hand stroking soothing circles on your hip.

"You’re okay?" he asked, glancing up at your reflection in the mirror.

"Yes," you breathed, a small smile curving your lips. "You're doing perfect"

His expression softened at your words, his insecurity melting away under the weight of your trust. He added a second finger, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked to prepare you. The tension in your body eased under his care, the warmth of his touch chasing away any discomfort.

By the time he added a third finger, you were panting softly, your forehead resting against the mirror as you pushed back against his hand. Matt pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, "You're so good for me."

When he finally pulled his fingers away, you felt both relief and anticipation flood through you. You heard the rustle of fabric behind you as he undid his own pants and then, the unmistakable warmth of him pressed against your entrance.

Matt's voice was soft but filled with need as he asked one last time, "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, your voice firm despite the breathlessness in your tone. "I want you, Matt. Please."

The groan that escaped him was deep and throaty, filled with both desire and relief. He pressed forward slowly, the stretch of him filling you inch by inch as you gripped the mirror for support. He paused when he was fully seated, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tried to steady himself.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the fullness of him. "Yeah," you managed, "You feel incredible."

Matt let out a shaky laugh, his head resting on your shoulder as he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His hands slid up and down your body, gripping and caressing, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The cabin swayed gently with his movements, the creak of the structure blending with the soft sounds of your shared pleasure.

As he found a rhythm, his lips returned to your neck, peppering kisses and soft bites along your skin. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless moan, and he groaned in response, his hips snapping forward with more urgency.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Each snap of his hips sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, your moans echoing softly in the small cabin.

Matt's lips found your neck again, sucking and biting gently as he thrust into you, his hands roaming your body as if he couldn't get enough. One hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, angling it to pull you into a heated kiss as his other hand squeezed your ass, pulling you closer with every thrust.

The glass behind you fogged with your combined heat and the view outside was forgotten entirely as Matt buried himself inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants against your ear.

"I'm close," he warned, his voice hoarse, and you nodded, your own climax rapidly approaching.

"Me too," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body tensed.

His thrusts grew erratic, his grip tightening on your hips as he chased his release. When he finally came, it was with a deep groan, his body trembling against yours as he spilled inside you, warmth flooding through you.

The warmth of it sent you over the edge, and you cried out, clutching him tightly as pleasure washed over you in waves.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the quiet hum of the cable car the only sound as you both caught your breath. Then Matt wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "So are you," you replied with a small, tired smile.

And for the first time in a long time, Matt felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

Josh sat hunched over on the massive leather couch in the lodge's main room, his elbows digging into his knees and his head cradled between his hands. His fingers tangled into his hair, tugging lightly as he mumbled to himself, barely audible words blending into the eerie silence.

"Keep it together," he murmured under his breath, fingers curling tightly against his scalp. His voice was barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the wind howling against the windows. "Just… keep it together."

He repeated the words like a mantra, but they did little to quell the storm brewing inside him.

His sisters' faces flashed behind his eyelids, Beth's soft smile and Hannah's nervous laugh, and his stomach twisted like a vice.

His foot tapped a frantic rhythm against the floor and his gaze darted toward the hidden cameras he'd planted days before. They were all in place, every angle meticulously planned.

But it didn't feel controlled. Nothing ever felt controlled anymore.

The sudden knock at the door made him flinch. His head snapped up, his heart racing in his chest. It wasn't time yet. It was too early. He froze for a moment, his mind spinning.

Quietly, he rose from the couch, his socked feet making no sound against the hardwood floor. As casually as he could manage, he glanced around the room, his eyes darting to the hidden cameras he had set up earlier. They were all still there, their little red lights glowing faintly in the shadows.

Satisfied, he moved to the door, pulling it open with a practiced smile ready on his lips.

But the smile faltered the moment he saw you standing on the porch.

Josh didn't know what to do. His heart lurched painfully in his chest as he took you in, the cold wind brushing past you and ruffling your hair. You stood at the edge of the porch, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, your shoulders hunched slightly against the cold.

"Hey," you said softly, offering a tentative smile.

Josh's throat felt tight and it took him a second longer than it should have to respond. "Hey," he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

There was an awkward pause, the kind that would've never existed between you before. Before his sisters. Before he pushed you away.

"Uh, come in," he said finally, stepping back to let you inside.

You nodded and stepped over the threshold, your boots squeaking slightly against the polished wood floor. Josh closed the door behind you, the lodge suddenly feeling much smaller with you in it.

He watched as you looked around, your expression shifting as your eyes moved over the familiar space. The place hadn't changed much, but he knew this place probably felt as haunted to you as it did to him.

"You're early," Josh said, breaking the silence. His voice sounded strange to his own ears-too casual, too detached.

"I wanted to talk to you," you said, turning to look at him. "Before everyone else got here."

Josh swallowed hard, his heart pounding again for a completely different reason.

"Oh."

Another pause.

He gestured to the couch. "Uh, sit? If you want, I mean."

You nodded and moved to the couch, sitting down on the edge as if you weren't sure you belonged there. Josh sat a little farther away, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees.

For a while, the conversation was surface-level-small talk about the weather, the drive up, little things that didn't mean much but filled the silence.

But even as you spoke, Josh couldn't stop his mind from wandering.

You looked good. Just like he remembered. Better, even. There was something about the way the firelight caught your face, the soft glow making you look almost ethereal.

He hated himself for pushing you away, for hurting you, for letting the walls he built around himself trap you on the outside.

He found himself fixating on the sadness in your eyes. It hadn't always been there. You used to look at him with so much warmth, so much trust. Now, you looked… fragile.

It made him sick.

He realized you'd said something and forced himself to tune back in, nodding as if he hadn't just been drowning in his own guilt.

"…I was worried about you," you were saying, your voice tinged with hesitation. "I mean, I still am."

Josh swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers curling into fists on his knees. He didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to admit that he wasn't okay without opening the floodgates.

"I missed you," you added after a moment, your voice quieter now.

That was the breaking point. Josh's breath hitched and he looked down at his hands, his vision blurring slightly at the edges.

"I missed you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Josh felt you shift slightly closer, your presence grounding him in a way he hadn't felt in months.

"I don't blame you for shutting me out. I know you were hurting. I just…" You hesitated, your voice breaking slightly. "I wish you'd let me help you."

Josh's chest tightened painfully, guilt and longing warring inside him. "I didn't want you to see me like that," he said, his voice raw. "I didn't want you to pity me."

"I never pitied you, Josh," you said firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "I love you."

Josh's heart pounded as your words lingered in the air.

It was both a balm and a dagger.

He wanted to believe it was still true. That somewhere, beneath the sadness in your eyes and the awkward distance between you, that love remained. But as you sat there, your voice soft and soothing, his thoughts began to twist, spiraling back into the familiar chaos that had consumed him over the past months.

His gaze drifted to the cameras he'd hidden, their red lights blinking faintly in the dim light. He hadn't planned for you to arrive early, hadn't prepared himself to see you alone, so exposed. You were supposed to be with the others, part of the game, part of the plan.

But now you were here, sitting so close, your presence stirring something raw and conflicted inside him.

Should he spare you?

The question lingered like a shadow in his mind. You weren't supposed to be here, not yet. If he told you to leave, to get far away from this place before the others arrived, he could keep you safe. But if he kept you here, then what? Would you understand him when it was all over?

Only one thing became clear to him.

He didn't want to lose you again.

"Josh?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, grounding him, and he realized he'd been silent for too long.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as he met your gaze. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice rough. "I was… thinking."

"About what?" you asked, leaning forward slightly.

Josh hesitated, his fingers twitching against his knees. "About us," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, your lips parting slightly in surprise. "Us?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair.

"I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. About what I did. How I pushed you away."

Your expression softened, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. "Josh, you were hurting. I understood that."

"That doesn't make it okay," he said quickly, his voice gaining a sudden intensity. "I shouldn't have shut you out. I shouldn't have—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

"I shouldn't have let you go."

The silence that followed was heavy, but Josh pushed through it, his eyes locking onto yours.

"You were the best thing in my life," he said, his voice raw and unsteady. "And I ruined it. I ruined us. And for what? So I could sit here and drown in my own misery?

"Josh—"

"No, let me finish," he said, his hand reaching out to grab yours. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I don't expect you to forgive me," he said softly, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your hand. "I don't even know if I deserve it. But I want to try. I want to fix what I broke, if you'll let me."

You didn't respond right away and the silence stretched between you. Josh's mind raced, doubt creeping in like a cold wind, but then you squeezed his hand gently, your expression softening.

"I missed you," you said simply, your voice trembling slightly.

Josh's breath hitched, and he felt something warm and fragile bloom in his chest. "I missed you too," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Josh felt his paranoia waver, the weight of his plans slipping to the back of his mind as he leaned closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, your breath warm against his skin, and he hesitated for just a moment before closing the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant and unsure. As your lips moved against his, it deepened. Josh's hands cupped your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he poured everything he couldn't say into the kiss.

It ignited something in Josh he hadn't felt in so long it nearly overwhelmed him. A year's worth of bottled-up emotions exploded all at once as your lips pressed against his, soft but insistent.

His hands slid up to cup your face, his fingers trembling slightly as they moved to tangle in your hair. He kissed you deeper, harder, his breath hitching when you pressed closer, your body fitting perfectly against his.

When you broke away for air, both of you gasping, his lips trailed along your jawline, then down to your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

"Josh," you murmured, your voice breathy, and the sound of his name on your lips made his knees go weak.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as his hands gripped your waist. "I need you so bad."

Your answer was a soft moan as you pulled him back into another kiss, your hands tugging at his shirt, your urgency matching his. He let out a low groan, helping you push the fabric over his head before his hands found their way under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your warm skin.

He wanted to memorize every inch of you, to re-learn every curve and angle of your body. The feel of your skin against his palms sent his mind spiraling, and he found himself unable to focus on anything else.

Somehow, the two of you managed to stumble off the couch, your hands fumbling with each other's clothes as you made your way to his room. Josh couldn't stop kissing you, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

When you finally reached his room, he pressed you against the door, his chest heaving as he looked at you. Your shirt was hanging off one shoulder, your lips swollen from his kisses and the sight of you made his heart ache in the best way.

"You're so handsome," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "God, I want you."

Josh let out a shaky breath, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he lifted you, carrying you to the bed. He laid you down gently, his eyes raking over your body as he climbed on top of you, his lips finding yours again.

Every kiss filled with unspoken emotion as his hands roamed your body, his touch reverent as if he were afraid you might disappear. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your pants, his breath hitching when he felt how warm and soft your skin was.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly as he pulled back to look at you.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. "Yes, Josh. I want you."

His heart swelled at your words, and he leaned down to kiss you again as he carefully removed your pants, leaving you bare beneath him. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his hands trailing over your thighs as he whispered, "You're perfect."

He reached into the drawer beside his bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. His hands trembled slightly as he poured some onto his fingers, the anticipation building in his chest as he positioned himself between your legs.

Your trust in him is evident in the way you relaxed beneath him. Josh's heart pounded as he pressed a finger against your entrance, the slickness of the lube making the motion smooth. He pushed in slowly, his breath hitching when he felt the tightness around his finger.

How was he supposed to handle this?

He worked you open carefully, his free hand stroking soothingly along your thigh as he added a second finger. Your soft moans filled the room, each sound going straight to his already hard cock.

Josh added a third finger, his movements deliberate as he stretched you, preparing you for what was to come.

When he finally pulled his fingers away, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock aching with the need to be inside you, his breath hitching as he pushed forward slowly, the tight heat of you surrounding him inch by inch. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he bottomed out, his body trembling from the sheer intensity of the feeling.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first.

Josh's hands roamed your body, gripping and caressing as he poured every ounce of his emotion into his movements.

When he finally reached his peak, his body tensed and he let out a deep groan as he spilled deep inside, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he buried himself as deep as he could.

The only sounds audible were your ragged breaths and the faint creak of the bed beneath you. Josh collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

You pressed your gloved hand against the cold rock face, steadying yourself as you climbed up the wall near the lodge gate. The gate had been locked and you'd found yourself scaling the icy terrain instead of taking the easy way in.

As you hoisted yourself onto the top ledge, you heard a familiar voice from below.

"Hey! Was there a lot of traffic, or did you just take the scenic route?"

You looked down to see your older sister, Sam, standing at the bottom of the wall with her hands on her hips, a bemused expression on her face.

"It was a nightmare," you shot back. "Endless hours of brake lights and honking. And to top it off, there was a note from Chris on the gate saying it's locked, so I had to climb up here like I'm in an action movie."

Sam groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. "Of course it's broken."

"Your turn, big sis. Want me to guide you?" You said with a grin, holding out a hand.

Sam rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smirk tugged at her lips as she grabbed onto the wall and started to climb. You stayed close, offering encouragement and holding out your hand when she struggled for the final push. "C'mon, I've got you."

With one last huff, Sam grabbed your hand and you pulled her up and over the top. The two of you jumped down together, landing with a satisfying crunch in the snow below.

The path to the cabin cable was peaceful, the sound of snow crunching underfoot the only noise. The trees stretched overhead, their branches heavy with snow and the cold mountain air was sharp but refreshing. As you approached the cable car station, Sam pointed toward a bench near the platform.

"There's Chris’s bag," she said, gesturing toward the familiar backpack sitting against the wooden bench.

"But no Chris," you added, scanning the snowy clearing. "Chris?" you called out, your voice carrying through the stillness

There was no response, only the faint rustle of wind through the trees. You frowned, walking a few steps forward as your gaze swept the area. "Where'd he go? He wouldn't just leave his stuff out here, right?"

"Maybe he is inside the bag," Sam suggested, her tone humorous.

You were about to call out again when you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Turning, you spotted Sam crouched near Chris's bag, her head bent slightly as she stared at something in her hands.

"Are you snooping through Chris's phone?" you asked, your voice filled with mock scandal.

Sam looked up at you, her expression unapologetic as she smiled. "No," she replied, holding the phone out of your reach.

"Uh-huh. And you didn't think to invite me?" you teased, stepping closer to her. "Come on, let me see."

She laughed, shielding the screen with her body. "No way. I know what's best for you, little brother."

"Oh, come on," you protested, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse of the screen.

"Trust me," Sam said, her tone teasing as she stood up and held the phone behind her back. "You don't need to see this."

"That just makes me want to see it more," you countered, crossing your arms.

Sam laughed again, but as you reached for the phone, she turned her back to you completely. For a brief moment, her expression softened as she glanced at the screen. The chat was still open on your conversation with Chris, and she debated what to do.

Should she tell you how Chris saved your name?

Her lips twitched as she imagined your reaction, the flush of embarrassment that would spread across your face. But ultimately, she decided against it for now.

The stillness of the snowy clearing was shattered by a loud rustle and a sudden, unexpected voice.

You and Sam both jumped, a startled yelp escaping her as you instinctively took a step towards your sister. Chris appeared from behind her, grinning like a kid who'd just successfully pulled off a prank.

"Geez, Chris!" Sam said, her hand clutching her chest as she glared at him.

"Did I accidentally hire you as my secretary?" He pointed at the phone on Sam’s hand before taking it back.

You rolled your eyes, your lips curving into a smirk. "Sorry, sir. We didn't realize your bag was a classified area."

"Alright, alright. I'll take better care of my precious belongings in the future, starting with finding new friends. Now come here. I've got something to show you." he said, motioning for you and Sam to follow him.

He led you a little further down the path until you reached a small clearing. A wooden structure loomed ahead. A rustic shooting range, complete with a rifle resting on the counter and several targets set up in the distance.

Chris turned around, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "Ta-da!" he announced, gesturing grandly at the range.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So, your 'cool find' is a place to shoot stuff?” She shook her head in disbelief.

Chris turned his full attention to you. "What do you say? Are you interested in seeing just how great my aim is?” Chris said, his grin widening as he moved toward the old rifle propped up on a stand.

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk growing. "Alright, Chris. Impress me."

“Gladly," Chris said, his grin turning smug as he stepped up to the line.

“You’re about to see a true marksman in action." He picked up the rifle, turning toward you with a cocky tilt of his head.

Sam snorted, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "This I've gotta see."

He took his time setting up, his movements exaggerated just enough to make you roll your eyes. He aimed the rifle, his gaze narrowing as he focused on the first can.

The shot rang out, the sound echoing through the small space as the can flew off the railing. Chris straightened, a satisfied grin on his face as he turned to you.

"Not bad," you admitted, leaning against the wall.

"Not bad?" Chris repeated, feigning offense. "That was a perfect shot!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Everyone could hit something so big that close."

"Challenge accepted," Chris said, aiming for the next target.

As he continued to fire, his tone grew more playful, his remarks directed almost exclusively at you.

"If you ever find yourself in a zombie apocalypse, I'm definitely the guy you want by your side," he said after hitting another can.

"Good to know," you replied, your smile widening.

Sam clapped her hands together, breaking the moment.

"Alright, lovebirds," she said, pushing off the wall. "Let's move this along before we freeze out here."

Chris laughed, shaking his head as he set the rifle back on its stand.

The cold air hit your face and you couldn't help but glance at Chris, his easy grin still firmly in place. He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly and for a moment, the chill of the mountain didn't feel quite so sharp.

The hum of the cable car grew louder as it approached, its bright light piercing the snowy dusk. You, Sam, and Chris made your way to the platform, the crisp mountain air biting at your cheeks as you walked.

"Finally," Sam muttered, hugging herself with both her arms. "I thought this thing would never get here."

The three of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of snow crunching underfoot the only noise. But as the cable car slowed to a stop, Sam turned to you, her brow furrowing slightly as she remembered something.

"Hey," she said, tilting her head, "did you lock your car?"

Her words hit like a bolt of lightning. You froze, your mind racing as you tried to recall the last few moments before you'd left the parking lot. Had you locked the doors? Pressed the button on your keys? The memory was frustratingly blank.

"I…" you began, but the uncertainty in your tone betrayed you.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Go check before you give yourself a heart attack."

You let out a groan, already turning toward the trail that led back to the parking lot. "I'll be right back. Don’t wait for me."

As you jogged away, Sam turned to Chris, who stood awkwardly on the platform, shuffling his feet. His gaze flickered between you and the cable car and he hesitated, his mouth opening as if to speak but then closing again.

Sam raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle war in his expression. "Well?" she said, nodding toward your retreating figure.

Chris's eyes widened slightly. "Uh, you mean…?"

"Go," Sam said, her voice warm but firm. She smiled knowingly, crossing her arms as she stepped toward the cable car. "He'll appreciate the company. And, you know, you might actually get to talk to him."

Chris blinked at her, his hesitation melting into a sheepish grin. "You sure? I mean, I don't want t-"

"Chris," Sam interrupted, her smile widening. "It's fine. Go."

Grinning proudly now, Chris nodded and took off after you, his boots crunching against the snow as he jogged to catch up.

"Hey!"

The sound of Chris's breathless voice made you turn, and you couldn't help but laugh as you saw him bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving. "Out of shape already?" you teased, folding your arms as you waited for him to recover.

Chris shot you a mock glare, though his grin betrayed him. "I'll have you know," he said between breaths, "I am in excellent shape. I just… wasn't prepared for the sudden cardio." He protested, straightening up and adjusting his glasses. "This altitude is killer. Plus, I'm carrying, like, two extra layers."

You shook your head, laughing softly as the two of you began walking back toward the parking lot. Chris stayed close to your side, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he glanced at you every now and then, his grin lingering.

When you finally reached your car, you pulled the keys from your pocket and pressed the button. The lights flashed, confirming the doors were locked, and you let out a relieved sigh.

"Well, crisis averted," you said, slipping the keys back into your pocket.

You glanced at the next cable car making its slow descent down the mountain, its light barely visible through the snow. With a shrug, you turned and hopped onto the hood of your car, brushing some of the snow away before settling down.

Chris hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, leaning against the side of the car with his arms crossed. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as he watched you.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated, your fingers idly tracing patterns in the thin layer of snow beside you. "I don't know," you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's weird being back here after… everything."

Chris nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah. It's been a lot, hasn't it?"

"More than I thought it would be," you said, letting out a soft sigh. "Part of me wasn't sure if I even wanted to come."

Chris was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. Then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "You know, we could just bail. We'll head to my place, order a ton of pizza and spend the whole night beating my game library. What do you say?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the suggestion managed to ease some of the tension in your chest. "Tempting," you admitted, shaking your head.

"The offer's always on the table," Chris said, grinning. But then his smile softened and he took a small step closer. "In all seriousness, though…"

He placed a hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "I think this is a good thing," he said, his voice steady. "Coming back here, I mean. It's a chance to… I don't know, start over. Maybe even get things back to how they used to be."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the earnestness in his gaze. "You think so?"

"I know so," he replied, his grin returning. "And, hey, if it gets to be too much, you've got me. Anytime you need to vent, or take a break, or… you know, crush me in Mario Kart or something. I'm here."

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way, and you felt a small smile tug at your lips. "Thanks, Chris," you said softly.

"Anytime," he replied, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before he stepped back.

Chris felt your hands on his shoulders. His breath hitched as he looked down at you, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the soft, warm smile on your face.

God, you look so good when you smile like that.

The thought came unbidden, but he didn't push it away. How could he? You were so close, your face lit by the soft glow of the sun’s distant light and the way you were looking at him was enough to make his chest tighten.

Chris couldn't help but notice how much brighter you seemed in this moment, even though he knew this place carried so many heavy memories. The fact that you could still smile like that, still radiate that warmth despite everything, left him feeling both in awe and completely unworthy of you.

And then you spoke, your voice pulling him from his thoughts.

"Hannah and Beth's disappearance," you began softly, your smile faltering just slightly, "it made me realize how quickly everything can change. Like, in just a couple of minutes, your whole life can be flipped upside down. It scared me," you admitted, your voice quieter now. "It made me think about how much I keep inside, how much I don't say because I'm too afraid, or I think it's not the right time."

You paused, letting out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "But who knows? Maybe tonight some monster will show up and kill me in the snow. So…"

Chris blinked at your attempt at humor, though his heart was already racing. He felt a rush of nervous energy flood through him and when you tilted your head up to look at him, the sudden proximity made his breath hitch.

"What—" he began, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound steadier. "What is it you wanted to say?"

His eyes betrayed him, flickering down to your lips for a fraction of a second before darting back up to meet your gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of excitement and panic swirling in his mind as he waited for your response.

You hesitated, your expression shifting into something more vulnerable. Chris could see the nerves in your eyes, the way your hands fidgeted slightly against his shoulders.

"I like you, Chris. " you began, your voice barely audible. You took a shaky breath, your gaze dropping briefly before meeting his again. “I've liked you for a long time."

The confession hung in the air, your words fragile but sincere. Chris froze, his mind racing as he tried to process what you'd just said. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

His gaze flicked to your lips again, the movement unintentional but impossible to stop.

"You…" he began again, his voice shaky. "You have no idea how long I've—" He cut himself off, his breath catching as you leaned in, your eyes never leaving his.

The first brush of your lips against his was so soft, so tentative, it felt like a spark catching fire. Chris's breath hitched, his body going rigid for a split second before he melted into the kiss, his hands lifting to rest lightly on your waist.

The world seemed to fade away. Everything disappeared, leaving only the warmth of your lips moving against his.

Chris's heart pounded as he tilted his head, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips moved against yours with more confidence now.

You made a soft sound in the back of your throat and the noise sent a jolt of electricity down Chris's spine. He couldn't stop himself from pressing closer, his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if to anchor himself to the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping softly for air, Chris didn't move far. His forehead rested against yours, his glasses slightly fogged from the warmth of your breath.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. "I've liked you too. For so long. I just… I didn't think…"

He trailed off, his words failing him as he searched your face. His heart ached at the mix of nervousness and hope in your expression and he let out a shaky laugh, his lips curving into a small, self-deprecating smile.

"I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to say it," he admitted softly. "You're amazing, smart and funny. I’m just some guy that cracks jokes with an awful aim."

"Your aim isn't that bad," you teased, your voice lighter now as you leaned into his touch.

Chris laughed, the sound soft and breathless. "You're my best shot," he said, his tone turning teasing but his eyes holding a depth of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

You smiled, your hands sliding from his shoulders to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. "You're such a dork,” you murmured fondly.

"Yeah," he agreed, his grin turning sheepish. "But I'm your dork now, right?"

Your smile widened, and before you could reply, Chris leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was deeper, more confident, his hands moving to cradle the back of your head as he poured every ounce of his feelings into the movement.

His lips were soft but insistent, his touch firm yet tender as he held you close. The warmth of his body against yours was enough to chase away the chill of the snow around you, leaving you completely caught up in the moment.

Chris didn't care about the cold, or the time, or the fact that the cable car was probably waiting. The only thing that mattered was you.

When you pulled back again, your breath mingling in the cold air, Chris let out a soft, almost dazed laugh. "Wow," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was… wow."

Your smile returned and Chris felt his chest swell with something he could only describe as pure happiness.

Note: Do you have a favorite among the four? I think you all know which one is mine, but I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3 I’m also open to any feedback or constructive criticism you might have.

[vivid-ink]

"The Love Shack" Part I - The Proposition

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI Word count: 6.1k Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting

Author's Note: OMG I had to split this into two parts! It was getting too long to do as a oneshot. 😳 But here is the first part and build-up to the juicy as hell NeteyamxReaderxLo'ak threesome. Part II will be uploaded tomorrow! Enjoy Part I! Note: I personally don't use the term 'y/n' so in this story, the reader's name is Neyomi. The name is not used often, I just don't like the 'y/n' term.

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers.

And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself…

It was a mistake you’d made once, venturing out into the vast Pandoran woodlands after eclipse towards the old, abandoned outpost you knew the brothers had annexed for their use. You’d told yourself you had gotten sidetracked and lost. That you’d been so caught up in your own thoughts that you’d unintentionally veered off course on your forest stroll and found yourself in the outpost’s vicinity by accident.

You knew that wasn’t quite true. You’d been curious.

The other young women gossiped. Women from everywhere in the clan; warriors, hunters, weavers, cooks, gatherers, all sharing surreptitious murmurs about the nighttime activities that the olo’eyktan’s sons partook in with them. They whispered of the delight and the pleasure of their clandestine experiences with bothbrothers.

Lo’ak was playful and flirtatious in general, so you could easily see how he fit into the role of an unrepentant womaniser. But Neteyam? Neteyam, who you worked alongside nearly every day as his second-in-command during platoon hunts and warrior patrols… Neteyam, who was next-in-line to be olo’eyktan after his father, who commanded the respect of the clan and its council… Responsible, reserved and gallant Neteyam?

You hadn’t wanted to believe it.

So, when you’d found yourself near the old war outpost one evening, your tingling feet had carried you closer despite the admonition in your mind. Padding on silent feet towards the glow of firelight, the breathless sighs and blissful cries had echoed in the sultry air around you from within the outpost shelter. The sensual sounds had entranced you and you’d found yourself unable to tear yourself away from the area where you were hidden, something you recounted now with no small amount of shame.

And when the noises had ceased and three women had departed the outpost, closely followed by Lo’ak and Neteyam, the hitching breath that was your gasp had caught in your throat.

There was nothing illicit about what they were doing. Na’vi were passionate people; as long as there was consent and security all round, sexual freedom was embraced in their culture. You were just surprised by Neteyam’s involvement in such group liaisons. It was difficult for you to reconcile the charismatic and modest side of him that you saw in the daytimes with such lubricious nighttime activities.

After your inadvertent discovery, which had confirmed to you that the natter you’d heard of was true, you’d tried your best to forget about it. Neteyam was still the same man he was; charming, respectful and a great platoon leader. Nothing about how he chose to spend his nights should’ve affected the way you perceived him, and yet you couldn’t look at him the same way.

Every morning, Neteyam would discuss patrol plans or hunting strategy with you just as he always did, but you struggled to meet his eyes for longer than a moment now. He would joke with you and rib you, but your laughs were awkward and less carefree than before.

You were… disappointed? Not disappointed in him per se, just disappointed in general. Or perhaps envious was the correct word… Envious of the other women for having him… But the proud part of you refused to entertain the thought. You weren’t going to be jealous; it was beneath you. After all, Neteyam was your direct report and you were a firm believer that not screwing the crew kept things running smoothly.

He hadn’t commented on the change in your behaviour around him, but you knew he’d picked up on it. You would catch him from time to time watching you through his golden eyes, and though his expression was cool, there was enquiry swirling about in their depths, a certain scrutiny in them as if he was attempting to figure you out.

Things got even more uncomfortable when it became increasingly apparent with time that nearly all the other women appeared to have engaged in a dalliance with the brothers at one point or another.

It made you feel like you were on the outside of some big secret that everyone else was in on except you. But you dug your heels in nonetheless. You weren’t going to participate in these lustful group affairs where you would just be another body writhing amongst the others. You’d had your share of intimacy with men in the past and you weren’t a saint, but there was just something about sensual play in a group that made you uneasy.

So, when your best friend, Tula, came sauntering up to you in the pa’li (direhorse) pen that morning after receiving a lascivious grin from Lo’ak who was going past, you were immediately suspicious.

Narrowing accusatory eyes at your friend, who appeared almost giddy with contentment, you asked, “What’s all that about?”

“Oh, you know,” Tula trilled, aiming for a nonchalant tone and failing miserably when she giggled and waved at another young woman, Neneka, who winked at her craftily, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tula.” Her name was ground out from between your clenched teeth as you surveyed her calculatingly. You’d known Tula since you were both young children and you knew her inside-out. She was more like a sister really. Something was up and you knew it.

Thankfully, Tula was not much of a liar and the two of you never kept secrets from each other. She caved under the heat of your assessing gaze, “Neneka convinced me to go last night, alright?”

A shocked gasp left you and you ushered her to the side of the pen, away from the other warriors, “What? What happened to you and I sticking all this nonsense out together, huh?”

“Shh! It wasn’t even that bad. It was just some fun in a small group. Everyone had a good time.” Tula hissed in return, her ears flicking fretfully while she tried to placate you.

“Like a group orgy?! How many of you were there?”

Rolling her eyes with a long-suffering sigh, Tula grasped at your forearms to stop you flailing them about, “No, it wasn’t an orgy, it was simply some playful touching and massage. It was just Neneka, myself and Miria who went.”

“Let’s see, five people massaging private body parts together?” You spluttered incredulously, and when Tula didn’t refute your statement you took it as agreement and exclaimed in a cross whisper, “That’s an orgy!”

“Well it was worth it! Honestly, I understand what all the other women have been saying now. It was amazing. They’ve got these things, I don’t know what they’re called, these tawtute (human) things that hum against you-”

You could feel your eyes growing larger and larger as you listened to Tula, the sting of betrayal sharp in your chest. You and Tula had made a pact that neither of you would participate in these clandestine activities. You had successfully stuck it out together over the last few moons, despite all the others falling victim one by one to whatever enchantment the Sully brothers seemed to have cast over them.

Eywa, you wondered if their father, the olo’eyktan, even knew what mischief his sons got up to in the darker hours of eclipse…

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, Neyomi. It’s all harmless fun.” Tula chastised sharply, tossing one side of her braids over her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest.

“You didn’t even tell me that you were going.”

Tula’s hairless brows rose, her forehead crinkling in confusion, “You wouldn’t have wanted to go and I knew you’d react like this if I told you!”

Sniffing sullenly, your face twisted into an unimpressed moue, “So, did you sleep with both of them?”

Tula scoffed and adjusted her bow where it was slung around her torso. She pushed past you and began making her way back to her pa’li, “No, I didn’t. Miria might have chosen to explore things further with Lo’ak, but I was content to just experience those tawtute things.”

“Did Neneka sleep with Neteyam?”

Tula glanced back at you as you trailed after her and her expression gentled. Clearly she hadn’t missed the slight edge in your voice, “There was touching between them, but nothing beyond that. I don’t even think they kissed. It’s not always about sex, you know. Sometimes it’s just a comfort to find and bring pleasure to someone else without going all the way.”

“Right.” Something light unfurled in your chest at her words; what was it? Relief? 

Saddling up her mount, Tula sighed as she watched you fiddle distractedly with the buckles and straps of your pa’li’s saddle. She reached out to place a gentle hand on your elbow, “If it makes you feel better, I hear Neteyam really only likes to watch. He isn’t quite as open with his affections as his brother is.”

Feigning casualness, you turned and shrugged at her, “What anyone else chooses to do with their body is not any of my business. I just feel the whole ruse is a bit much and not my thing.”

It was Tula’s turn to narrow her eyes shrewdly at you, “Yes, but I know your feelings for Neteyam make it all the harder to stomach.”

“I don’t have feelings for him.” You replied with a conscious effort to keep your tone even, “I just find him very attractive.”

Vaguely, you wondered to yourself if your former statement was completely truthful. The latter statement certainly was.

Neteyam was nothing short of beautiful in your eyes; he had a handsome face, was tall, broad and well-muscled. To be fair, Lo’ak was too, but there was just something about Neteyam that appealed to you a little more over his younger brother. As for not having feelings for him, you’d sounded fairly convincing, but the words had tasted like a lie on your tongue.

The snort that Tula emitted was far from ladylike, “You keep telling yourself that. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn. You think he’s attractive, so wouldn’t it be fun if you came along and got to explore him in a more sensual light? He’s only your boss during work time.”

Rubbing down your pa’li’s legs in preparation for the long day ahead, you felt heat bloom in your cheeks and neck at the thought. You knew you were in major denial. The feminine side of you very much wanted to get to know Neteyam in that way, just not in front all the others, where you would have to share…

“No.” You countered, patting your mount’s muscular neck affectionately, “I’m not going to just show up and invite myself along.”

“But that’s what everyone does! You go along if you want to and bring anyone else who’s keen. You don’t need a personal invitation or anything. It’s free and easy. Come on, I know you’re a little bit curious.”

You were about to hiss a caustic retort at Tula about not wanting to be just another piece of meat in a line of women when a deep voice spoke from behind you.

“Who wants a personal invitation?” Shit. Lo’ak.

You startled and froze, feeling something clench uncomfortably in your belly at the scare.Your panicked response flew from your lips at the same time as Tula’s answer.

“No one!”

“Neyomi does.”

The incensed expression you shot Tula would have speared a yerik (hexapede) dead in an instant, but after a lifetime of knowing you, she was immune to your dagger-sharp glares and simply blew a raspberry in your face.

Lo’ak gave a dark chuckle, “Is that so?”

Sucking a slow and measured breath through your nose, you steeled yourself to face the younger Sully brother. Swivelling on your heels, your gaze locked with Lo’ak’s orbs of amber which glinted in the daylight, bright with mischief. He grinned, the pointed tips of his canines peeking out from behind his upper lip in a roguish smile.

“Nope, Tula’s lying. I’m not interested.” You stated matter-of-factly.

Tula crowed with laughter beside you, “No I’m not! Why would I lie? I’m trying to help you.”

“If it’s a personal invitation you want, you can consider it done.” Lo’ak added, “I think you might be the only girl left who hasn’t come by to take a look at least. You’re more than welcome to come and play.” He finished his sentence with a suggestive wink, which earned him an emphatic gag and eyeroll from you.

Despite your exaggerated show of repulsion, the good-humoured laugh that Lo’ak gave in response caused a flurry of involuntary flutters in your belly. Most of his dread-locked braids were tied back behind his head, but the few loose beaded strands bobbed and swayed as he laughed and you reluctantly admitted to yourself that he was just as striking as his older brother was.

Lo’ak’s jaw was more angular than Neteyam’s, sharper in the chin where Neteyam’s was squarer. His eyes were slightly more wide-set within a strong browbone. Neteyam also wore his hair differently in his usual signature loose braids, but aside from these differences, both brothers looked remarkably alike. Both as tall as the other and equally strapping. Definitely blood brothers; two incredibly good-looking blood brothers…

“For the last time, no.” You hissed with a scowl, the points of your ears pinning flat against your head, “I’m not going to be a part of some group orgy. It’s not my thing. I don’t like to share.”

Lo’ak’s brows raised at your last comment and he smirked, committing your remark to memory. You were too busy to notice the scheming expression on his face as you aimed several swats at Tula, who was now whining at you to loosen up and ‘let go and live’.

“It’s alright ladies, no need to get mean.” Lo’ak conciliated, watching as you snarled at a thwarted Tula who appeared very unimpressed.

A familiar hooting whistle sounded from outside the pen and it immediately caught your attention. Neteyam was rounding up the day’s patrol party for briefing prior to setting off. With a brusque farewell to Tula and a muttered promise to catch her later, you stomped off towards the rest of the hunting party where they were gathering. As second-in-command you were required up front with Neteyam and you didn’t want to keep him waiting.

Lo’ak, however, was having far too much fun with his joshing around. He caught up to you in a few long strides, walking alongside you, “I meant what I said. Your invitation remains open, if you change your mind.”

You pursed your lips at him and shook your head in vexation, “Piss off, skxawng.” There wasn’t any real heat in your voice though. He chuckled again.

You liked Lo’ak as an individual. He was amiable and had a great sense of humour. Though he could be annoying, as he was being right now, you could never stay mad at him for very long. He inevitably always found his way back into your good graces with a sharp quip or a good joke.

But just as you were about to put the morning’s conversation behind you and move on with your day, Lo’ak fired another crack at you, “Or maybe it’s the wrong brother asking.”

You should’ve scoffed at the quip and sauntered onward. Or just played it cool and laughed the statement off, but instead your feet faltered in their steps and you ground to a halt. You were anything but cool when it came to Neteyam. He was one aspect of your life where you could never feign anything other than what you really felt, especially when your emotions were strong.

The delicate points of your ears flicked self-consciously, the tuft of your tail ceasing its swaying to lie low and still by your calves. You turned wide eyes up at Lo’ak. It was the wrong reaction if you’d wanted to keep your secret and persuade Lo’ak otherwise…

A haughty smile split Lo’ak’s face from ear to ear as if he had just made the discovery of some rare species of exotic animal. He cackled before moseying onward towards the patrol party, calling nonchalantly over his shoulder, “I’ll let him know.”

“Lo’ak, no!” Rooted to the spot, you felt equal parts infuriated and equal parts stricken while you watched him disappear into the crowd of assembled warriors. Eywa help you… The last thing you needed was for Lo’ak to make things any more awkward than they already were between you and Neteyam.

Clenching your fists and pressing your lips into a tight line, you stamped your way to the front of the party to flank Neteyam in your usual spot by his side. You saw Lo’ak smiling smugly at you from the second row of warriors and your eyes narrowed to slits as you glowered back at him.

Seeing your disconcerted state, Neteyam’s forehead crinkled in question at you and he murmured, “Everything alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Your response was short and clipped.

An embarrassed blush was already colouring your neck and face after your exchange with Lo’ak, so you kept your gaze ahead of you, knowing that meeting Neteyam’s eyes would only increase the hot rush of blood to your cheeks. You could feel the familiar tingle of his calculating gaze beside you before a soft and husky chuckle left him. It was unexpected and you instinctively turned your head to look at him.

Big mistake.

Neteyam’s handsome face was peering down at you and a smirk was dancing across his lips. You felt your tummy squeeze and a burst of flutters erupted. By Eywa, why was he looking at you like that?... Great goddess, you were standing in front of the entire party and everyone was watching…

Clearing your throat loudly, you greeted the gathered warriors and called them all to attention, essentially forcing Neteyam to look away and begin his own address.

Neteyam briefed the party of the day’s plan: A patrol out to the southern-most border of Omatikaya territory. He’d already mentioned today’s patrol strategy to you the previous day, so his voice was drowned out to a hum in the background of your consciousness as your inner thoughts consumed you.

Fuck, if Lo’ak told Neteyam you were attracted to him, would it cause a conflict of interest in your professional relationship with him?... Would Neteyam be too uncomfortable to have you as his second-in-command?... You loved your work and you loved working with him. Eywa, the shame of being removed from your position would be mortifying…

The rustling scatter of the patrol party in front of you pulled you out of your thoughts and back to the present. You’d zoned out through the entirety of Neteyam’s briefing, you realised. The warriors were all making their way back to their pa’li now to get into their departure formations.

The sight of Lo’ak ambling towards you and Neteyam spurred you into motion and you strode away with a huff. You didn’t want to be caught in any more awkward exchanges today, especially in front of Neteyam.

Neteyam’s eyes trailed after your retreating form, noting the annoyed whip and lash of your tail. His gaze slid higher, appreciating the lithe length of your toned thighs and up further to the pert rounds of your bottom. He bit his lip and shook the gathering collection of unchaste thoughts from his mind.

Pulling his armguard onto his right arm and adjusting his cummerbund around his waist, Neteyam’s attention snapped to his brother when Lo’ak strolled up to him snickering. Neteyam put two and two together immediately, surmising that his brother had clearly ticked you off this morning.

“You better watch yourself, bro.” Neteyam cautioned mildly, “She’ll kick your ass, slice it up and serve it to you for dinner.”

Clicking his tongue with a cock of his head, Lo’ak agreed, “That’s why she’s your second-in-command. But hey man, she can kick my ass, and use and abuse it as much as she likes when we play in the evenings.”

That last sentence piqued Neteyam’s attention. His ears pricked upward in full focus, seeking more clarification from his brother, “What do you mean?”

“I told you getting Tula onboard was key.”

Neteyam eyed Lo’ak fixedly, “Has Neyomi agreed to come to next week’s meet-up?”

“Nope, she’s still being stubborn but she’s definitely curious. She was just asking Tula about last night.” Lo’ak informed. He gave a suggestive purse of his lips then and continued with a cheeky leer at his brother, “Although I might have discovered a few titbits that might sway her.”

***~~~***

The mossy ground was plush underfoot as Neteyam stole through the verdant underbrush on silent feet. Eclipse had settled over them and the evening atmosphere was alive with bioluminescence. A mild draught was swirling about and he lifted his chin and parted his lips, inhaling through his nose and mouth to scent the air lightly. The familiar smell of your sweet scent tantalised his nose and danced on his tongue, tasting a little like fresh fruit with a natural honeyed note to it that made his mouth water, and made rather carnal images fill his head.

Yes, he very much wanted to taste you… He wanted to taste the supple skin of your neck, to lick the tips of your fingers and kiss other more sensual parts of you…

Vaguely, Neteyam wondered to himself if you suspected at all how much his mind like to wander when you were near him during hunts and patrols. He wondered if you had withdrawn from him recently because you had noticed his subtle staring; he wondered if perhaps you had doggedly refused to come to the old outpost with the other women because you didn’t feel the same way about him.

But if what Lo’ak had tipped him off about this morning was true then the aforementioned reason was not at all the reason for your stubborn evasion. Hopefully his gentle plan to sway you would work in his favour and pique your curiosity enough to coax you into coming by.

He could see your seated form not far from where he was currently positioned behind some eyaye ferns. Your back was to him, your tail curled on the ground behind you, its tuft flicking intently back and forth while you concentrated on your task at hand. He could see a long branch protruding outward to your side where you held it in your left hand, while your right hand was making rhythmic strikes at its other end. It seemed you were crafting a new hunting spear.

Your aptitude for crafting tools and weapons was one of the many things that drew him to you. Your finished pieces were always well-made, intricate in design and beautiful to behold. You were also a proficient warrior; skilled during hunts with a good mind for strategy, and level-headed enough to hold your own in high pressure situations. He was fortunate to have you as his second-in-command. Those were some of your best character traits.

As for your physical traits, well… If Neteyam was honest, he had to admit that there wasn’t anything about your body that didn’t appeal to his male instincts. You were very appealing…

Deciding to make his presence known, Neteyam intentionally shuffled through the broad leaves of the ferns and cleared his throat lightly. He figured sneaking up on you and startling you wouldn’t endear him to you, which could be detrimental to the result of the little proposition he had to for you.

Your reaction was instant, your ears swivelling in his direction, closely followed by your upper body as you heard his approach. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, surprised, though you didn’t make any move to get up.

“Hey,” Neteyam greeted coolly as he strolled over to you, “Can I join you?”

“Ah, sure?” You replied, sounding a little uncertain, “Tula is meeting me here soon though.”

Biting his bottom lip and looking somewhat guilty, Neteyam shook his head with a sheepish smile, “Tula isn’t coming to meet you. I asked her to set this meeting up so I could catch you to talk.”

Puzzlement lined the contours of your face and you set the spear you had been carving down before you, “Why did you need Tula to do that? You could’ve asked me yourself.”

Neteyam emitted a short bark of laughter and pulled one of his hands down his face, “I would’ve if you hadn’t avoided me all day today.”

He watched you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, clearly caught out by the truth of the situation. Your attention returned to your spear and you picked the branch up again to resume your whittling. You murmured, “Ok, what’s up?”

“I should be asking you that. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual lately.” Neteyam began gently, “And then today you insisted on bringing up the rear of the patrol party instead of riding up front with me. You’ve barely even acknowledged me today.”

You shifted uncomfortably on your crossed legs, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I didn’t think you were being rude, I just thought it out of character for you. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, nothing’s wrong.”

Neteyam wasn’t convinced. You didn’t appear to be lying and yet your response didn’t feel entirely sincere either. You still weren’t meeting his eyes.

Your behaviour had definitely changed around him in recent moons. It had started as mild awkwardness at first, but as the weeks had gone on it had become clearer to him that you were putting up walls and putting distance between the both of you. It was a perceptible contrast to your usually robust work partnership that was felt comfortable and strong in trust.

“Look, if I’ve said something or done something to upset you, you’d tell me, right?” He broached.

“Yeah, if it was reasonable and I wasn’t disrespecting your rank.”

Neteyam thought that was an odd answer. He expected a simple yes or no, along with a reason if applicable. He mused to himself, so whatever was bothering you… you obviously felt it was unreasonable to bring up with him…

“So you are upset about something. A work decision I’ve made?”

“No! It isn’t about work.” You were getting flustered now, which was something Neteyam wasn’t used to seeing on you. It was yet another hint that you were upset. You carried on, “It’s nothing. It’s a ‘me’ thing, no big deal. Everything is fine. I need to get back home.”

Half-finished spear in hand, you tucked your carving knife back into its sheath at your side and nimbly rose to your feet, making to leave.

Recalling what Lo’ak (and later Tula too) had told him, Neteyam resolved to get to the point. You clearly weren’t going to tell him, so he might as well come right out with it and ask.

Getting to his own feet, he quickly strode after you as you marched away back towards camp, “So it’s not because I haven’t issued you a personal invitation to come along to the outpost?”

Neteyam almost smacked into the back of you as you halted in your steps and whirled around to face him.

“What? No!” You almost shrieked, “Lo’ak is so full of shit! I don’t want an invitation to your guys’ love shack!”

Neteyam noted the purpling blush that was staining your cheeks and the indignance that was flashing in your wide amber eyes. You were beautiful in your bother. He couldn’t help it. He smirked, fighting the urge to laugh when his expression only seemed to aggravate you further.

“Love shack? That’s quite a good name actually. Maybe we’ll start calling it that.”

You blinked dubious eyes at him and your ears lowered a fraction. You huffed out a jaded laugh and gave a slow shake of your head, “Ugh I can’t believe you. I never expected group liaisons to be your thing. But it’s none of my business and you can do what you like. It isn’t my place to judge. It just surprised me is all.”

Neteyam took a tentative step towards you, “Why does that surprise you?”

You swallowed hard, noticing the way Neteyam had begun to close the distance between you. Part of you was regretting the way you had just run your mouth and admitted you were perturbed by his choice of nighttime activities. You should have just kept your gob shut and gone home. Now you were cornered and he was asking questions.

The mild breeze that had been blowing before had vanished and the air lay heavy and thick around you. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but you could really smell Neteyam. A fragrant musk was pouring off him and Eywa help you, he smelled so good…

Aware that Neteyam was still waiting on an answer, and not wanting to appear affected by the close proximity you now shared with him, you spoke measuredly, “You’re just so polite and proper all the time. I guess I didn’t expect you to have such a wild streak.”

Neteyam took another precise step in your direction and he was close enough now that you could run the flats of your hands up his chest without any trouble. He was close enough that you couldn’t look at his face without tilting your head back. The atmosphere tightened with a type of enticing tension, cocooning you both in a tantalising void that made it very difficult to notice anything else apart from each other.

All Neteyam could smell in the humid air was you, the lovely perfume of your scent assailing his senses and making every fibre of his being ignite with desire. It made his blood pump fast and hot through his veins with the increasing pace of his thumping heart. You thought he didn’t have a wild streak?... Oh, how he yearned to introduce you to the red-blooded male that existed within him…

“The side of me you see when we work is only one side of me. I’ve got a fun side too.” Neteyam breathed softly and there was a gravelly note to his voice that you’d never heard before.

It was deep and captivating, and it breathed over you in hot shivers that made your nipples peak behind the covering of beads and leaves over your breasts. Ever so slowly, his head tipped downward towards yours and he took yet another step towards you, bringing the both of you almost front to front with nothing but a scant sliver of space left between you.

He continued, “Being my father’s successor demands that I maintain a certain conduct during professional and official clan affairs, but the mantle gets tiresome to bear. And I am just a man under it all, with needs and desires like any other.”

“Mm hmm.” Your acknowledgement was a wordless and breathy squeak. You felt as if you were caught in some trance and it felt like you were in a dream. Neteyam was gently sniffing you now, the lightly twitching of his nose tickling the skin of your temple and your cheek. The position put your own nose a mere inch or two from the skin of his neck and jawline and the musky scent of him was delectable in your nostrils and on your tongue.

“But my participation in these group liaisons really bothers you, why?”

Neteyam’s question wasn’t a rhetorical question, but there was a strange mocking hint in his voice that implied he suspected or knew the answer to his own question. You were unable to answer anyway. Your voice had abandoned you for the time being as a lump had taken up residence in your throat. You may have been unable to speak, but it didn’t stop your brain forcing you to confront the answer to his question within yourself.

You knew why Neteyam’s involvement bothered you. You were just in denial about it; too proud to admit that you didn’t like the idea of him mingling with other women because you were jealous. It was also true that you weren’t keen on group flings, but the main reason you had refused to go to the outpost until now was because you didn’t want to go along and see him and share him with others.

Neteyam hadn’t displayed any obvious interest in you previously, but it was evident even to you now that he was attracted to you. The concentrated muskiness of his scent was unmistakeable for what it was: arousal. Even with the intimate nearness of his frame to yours, neither you nor he made any move to touch each other with your hands.

Feeling a twinge of remorse for being judgemental and making presumptions about his character, a whispered apology fell from your lips, “Sorry for being presumptuous. I shouldn’t judge you.”

His response was equally quiet, “Don’t apologise, just come to the outpost tomorrow night. Consider this your personal invitation.”

Neteyam’s nose caressed the soft skin of your cheek and the action elicited an involuntary shudder from you. He stepped back a little to look you in the eyes and his own eyes were glowing bright. There was obvious desire swirling in their depths like heat through molten gold.

Despite the palpable lust between you, your conscience decided to make itself known and doubt began to stir in your gut, “I don’t know, Neteyam.”

“It’ll be just you and us. No one else.”

Oh… That proposition sounded rather tempting…

Neteyam’s use of the word ‘us’ reminded you that Lo’ak was part of the picture too. You, Neteyam and Lo’ak in a secluded space exploring the possibilities of sensual indulgence… You were a little shocked to find that the sentiment did not repel you. Instead, you felt a spear of anticipation low in your belly.

Seeing and sensing your internal deliberation, Neteyam gave a gruff chuckle and joked, “I outrank you. You have to do as I say as my subordinate. Just come to outpost tomorrow night. You’re free to do as you please and leave when you wish. It’s a safe space, I promise.”

Pursing your lips at his playful attempt to pull rank on you, you scoffed, “You can’t do that. You can’t make me come.”

You realised your poor choice of words too late, and it was clear that Neteyam had picked up on the innuendo as well.

A brazen grin flashed across his handsome face and it was the most conceited you had ever seen him look, “Oh, I’m sure I can.”

Parting your lips to object and make yourself clear, your words were stolen from you when Neteyam swiftly closed the gap between you to slot his lips over yours.

You stiffened in surprise for all but a moment before your legs turned weak and you sagged against him, the forward pitch of your body forcing one of your hands to anchor itself against his chest for support. It helped that Neteyam also looped a muscular arm around the small of your back, clutching you to him.

Eywa have mercy on you… The warm, moist draw of Neteyam’s lips over yours was intoxicating. You were hardly cognisant of the fact that you had dropped your half-finished spear from your other hand as your arms intuitively shifted to snake their way around his neck. Separating for a quick breath, you were about to lean upward towards him for another kiss when he moved to pull away.

You almost whimpered in disappointment. Maybe you did. You didn’t know. Still spellbound by the heady ambience, you gazed up at him speechless.

Neteyam chortled at the sight of you; eyelids a little heavy, cheeks flushed, lips parted as your shallow breaths puffed from between them. You looked ravishing and you had tasted even better. He raised a hand to cup your cheek and his thumb swiped in a provocative drag over your bottom lip.

“Just a little taste.” He crooned, and he let his hand drop then. He began to walk away slowly, but he paused a few moments later and turned to address you one last time, “Tomorrow night, paskalin (sweet berry). After last meal.”

You watched, rooted to your spot, while Neteyam disappeared into the luminous phosphorescence of the night.

Great Mother, what just happened?

Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd HERE

Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who have read and enjoyed Part I! Stay tuned for Part II. You'll need to bring a towel for that... things get very, very juicy. Reblogs, likes & comments are always so, so loved! Let me know if you'd like a tag for Part II. 😄 Taglist so far: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @questioningconstellationsstuff @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles

[rosemariiaa]

~A wish for us~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: this was supposed to be released way earlier… sorry! I write it in a poem style, it felt better that way lol. surprise for blondies birthday!! was planning on doing angst ngl to y’all but i wanted to be nice! happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── theme: fluff

enjoy!!!

Azzi leans against the doorframe,

watching as Paige steps into the room,

blue eyes sparkling with delight at the decorations—

purple balloons hanging in the air,

a vibrant celebration of another year,

another chance to love.

In her gaze, Azzi sees the look of love,

the kind that makes time stand still.

—

She remembers that morning,

both girls bare, wrapped in the white sheets,

sunlight pouring in,

Paige, a whirlwind of joy,

“Did you really do all this for me?”

Laughter spilling over, disbelief painted on her face,

the way her skin glowed in the light, radiating happiness.

“Of course,” Azzi replied, heart swelling,

as she presented the silver infinity necklace.

“Something special for someone special.”

Paige gasped, eyes wide,

“Is this really for me?”

Azzi nodded, feeling the moment wrap around them.

“I love you,” whispered against her lips,

a promise sealed with a kiss.

—

Later, as the day unfolds,

Azzi watches Paige bounce around the table with excitement,

but stops when a pout forms on her lips,

“Are you seriously taking all day to post for my birthday?”

Azzi chuckles, teasing, “Good things come to those who wait.”

“this is not funny Fudd.”

A playful grin spreads across Azzi’s face,

her heart fluttering at the sight.

When Azzi finally shares the post,

the heart she added isn’t their usual one—

just a pink heart, regular, dull, and definitely not them.

Paige stomps over, hands on her hips,

“Excuse me? You put the wrong heart!

Change it now!”

Azzi laughs, hands up in mock surrender,

“My bad, birthday girl, my bad.”

With a quick edit, the familiar heart returns,

and Paige beams, rushing to Azzi,

kissing her all over,

“Phew, much better! I knew you loved me.”

—

As the evening winds down,

the purple round cake sits before Paige, candles flickering,

and with a deep breath, she closes her eyes.

In that moment, a wish forms,

her heart whispering the words—

“I wish for a lifetime where I wake up next to her every day, where her smile is the first thing I see and her love is the constant I can count on. I wish for us, always.”

With a puff, the flames extinguish,

the room filled with soft applause and laughter.

“What’d you wish for?” Azzi leans in,

curious, teasing.

Paige smirks, “That’s not how it works, you know.”

But then, softening, she adds,

“Honestly? I wished for us—

that we’d always have this,

always find our way back to each other.”

Azzi’s heart swells,

the sincerity wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

Azzi leans in, voice tender,

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Paige’s eyes soften,

“I feel the same way.

You’ve transformed my life Az, I didn’t know that was even possible..

I didn’t know love could be and feel this safe, easy, good.”

“Neither did I,” Azzi confesses,

feeling lucky, feeling loved.

“In your eyes, I see my forever,” she thinks,

grateful for this moment, this life, this love.

—

The night brings quiet moments,

Paige’s voice soft, “You know, you’re such a good person.

You give so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Azzi feels her heart tighten,

Every word heavy with love,

binding them together in an unbreakable bond.

—

As they make love in the still decorated room,

every touch ignites a fire within,

a deep connection that feels infinite.

“I know there are many paths ahead,

but I choose you every time,”

Paige whispers, tracing circles on Azzi’s bare skin,

and Azzi knows—

this is home.

Together, they’ll face whatever comes,

hand in hand, heart to heart.

———-

rosie’s note: this was kind of short sorry 😣!! on another note i wanna wish paige a very happy birthday, that girl is definitely something, all 23 years of her but i love it and i love what she’s accomplished from highschool to now, ily P boogers 💌

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Troubleshooting

Nathan Bateman x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 23: Begging

Summary: Nathan can't say no to a challenge.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry).

Warnings: reader who has trouble orgasming by just penetration alone, p in v sex, cream pie, pet names, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 765

“Nathan please,” you gasp, grabbing hold of the edge of his desk desperately as he pounds into you from behind.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I got you.” He mutters, his voice gravely with the strain of holding back. He grasps your waist, keeping you still as he thrusts inside. 

You whine, tears in your eyes from being on the edge for so long. Part of you wishes you hadn’t told Nathan that you couldn’t come by penetration alone, but you didn’t realise quite how much of a personal challenge he would take it as. More fool you.

It feels so good, which is most of the problem. It makes pleasure spike and burn, but it never quite crests, never lets you get completely there.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, you know that?” He growls, spreading his feet wider apart to change the angle. 

If you were a little more coherent you’d throw a sarcastic comment back at him, but the time for frontal lobe thinking was long past. 

“Please!” The sob breaks in your voice. It was bordering on painful how much you needed it, how desperate you were to come. 

Your slick dripped down your thighs, the slap of skin echoing loudly with every thrust. 

“You can do it, baby,” he moans deep in his throat, “I know you can, I know you can come.” 

“I can’t,” you tense, your muscles aching from tightrope walking you along the precipice. 

“You can, you can,” he groans, the sound vibrating through you. “I believe in you.” 

It would almost be sweet if you didn’t want to cry. Pleasure twisted along your nerves, pulling them tight but refusing to snap. Sweat dripped down your back, as he moved, trying a different angle, different speed. He’d been trying for what felt like forever. Unable to stop troubleshooting until the problem was fixed. 

You gasp, as he thrusts shallowly, tensing, your blood buzzing as he hits the same spot in quick, rapid succession. 

“Nathan!” 

“There you are, there you are,” he mutters, part of you wants to hit the smug grin off his face that you just know is plastered to it. “Little more.” 

It’s good, mind-numbingly good, but it’s just not going to get you there. Your clit throbs, yearning for the smallest touch to send you over the edge. 

You sob, your arms weakening. Your left gives out for a second, buckling and you yelp before Nathan grabs you, keeping you from falling and smacking your head on the corner of his desk. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he pulls you close to his chest, kissing your neck greedily as he grinds his hips, keeping his cock deep inside. 

His beard scrapes along your skin and you moan, gasping for air. You couldn’t do this, this was too much, you needed to tap out, to-

He squeezes your left breast in his hand while his other runs down your stomach, his fingers rubbing your clit once and then you scream. 

Your orgasm hits you so hard, tensing every muscle as you convulse and cry out. Pleasure spikes up your spine, cutting under your skin and making your eyes roll back. You gasp out his name, practically vibrating and pulsing along him as your body finally collapses into pure bliss. 

Nathan groans, growling as your walls squeeze and milk him harder than he can ever remember. He shutters, barely managing to thrust one more before he comes deep inside, filling you to the brim. 

He holds you close, slumping back into his desk chair and taking you with him. 

You let out a little huff of air as you land. 

Nathan nuzzles your neck, sucking lightly and whispering sweet words. 

“So much for, ‘you can get anyone to come on your cock alone.’” You mumble, but there’s no heat in your words, too blissed out. 

He chuckles. “Guess you’re a problem I’m going to keep having to try to solve.” He holds you tight, rubbing your arms soothingly. “You okay?” 

You nod. 

He kisses your cheek. “Sorry I couldn’t keep going,” he mutters, “you just sound and feel too good for me to not indulge you.” 

You glance over your shoulder at him, pulling a face. “Indulge me?” 

He grins, “oh yeah,” and slips his hand down between your legs, he brushes his fingers over your clit and you jump, wriggling and moaning softly. “I don’t think I showed here enough attention, did I?” 

“Nathan,” you try to say warningly, but it comes out wanton. 

His grin widens, “I know you got one more in you.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 6: Silver linings

genre: FINALLY JUST SOME PURE COMFORT FLUFFFFF

word count: 6151

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: weeks pass you by without much happening and you need to remind yourself: you believe in silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEE! It took me so long to feel like they were ready for this but oh my god, the wait was so worth itttttt! what are you excited about with this chapter? Let me know in the comments! <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments! also, I would love to dedicate this chapter to the lovely @donttrustlove who reads and comments on every chapter I post <3

“We have a few emails coming in for the manager position, do you want to check them out?”

You two are sitting on his kitchen counter like this is the most natural thing to do at two in the morning. Spencer has work the next morning but still insists that it’s fine and that he wants to keep you company. You think he still feels guilty about the fact that, if not for him and his weird connection to Cat, you would have never been put into this tricky of a position. So he makes up for it where he can– he brings dinner whenever he knows he’ll be home late because he knows you’ll be waiting for him to eat; he makes a mean cereal bowl in the morning whenever he has time; he leaves books he knows you are yet to read by the small table next to your armchair because that is now your armchair and he would never steal that away from you. 

In your own efforts, you also try to make him feel a bit more comfortable with the reality of everything, and you don’t bug him much to go outside, anymore. You don’t call him all panicked and gasping for air whenever he goes on work trips either, instead choosing to spend those lonely days in the endless company of Penelope. Officer Kaper has gotten better and been cleared to work again, and having him with you whenever Spencer isn’t brings you some sort of comfort and guilt. This man had become a target thanks to you and suddenly, you don’t quite read the fantastical stories of princesses and their faithful knights. The way your stomach weights down whenever they eventually get hurt to protect the fairest lady of the land does not sit right with you anymore– you refuse to believe that romance is hurt and pain for one and comfort and safety for the other. 

At this point two weeks had gone by without you even noticing. Suddenly, you jumped from day 9 to day 23 and with the month mark approaching, so is your need for answers. Cat has been silent ever since the attack on Officer Kaper’s house, and so is her partner. For a second, it’s almost like she’s teasing you, like she’s throwing a taste of freedom in your face only to later pull the carpet from right under your feet. Spencer must feel like this too, considering how jittery he has been lately. At this point, you know how to recognise the different gestures of those pretty hands, and the way he fidgets with his fingers while reading War and Peace yet again tells you that he is not, in fact, reading the book, but trying to read himself. You don’t quite understand him fully yet, and that is okay; Spencer has shown you that even if it takes time, he is worth waiting for. 

You still don’t know what happened to him, weeks ago, when you two were discussing Josh. You still don’t know what made him choke on his own words or what had his body limp and stripped of energy in your arms, but the truth is that you don’t really care what it was. Not yet. For now, you are just happy that Spencer showed you a side of himself that you had never seen before, and that he has been less… overbearing about your job. Actually, he had been the one that told you to check your emails for applications, suggesting stating the interview process so that you can make a schedule to possibly go back to the store. “Are you serious?” You whispered to him, eyes wide and waiting for Derek to pop out from the kitchen shouting ha! Gotcha! 

“Of course,” He smiled and nodded and the rest is history. 

The chairs are so close together that your legs brushes against his every time you lean forward to squint at the computer, but at this point, you two don’t even notice it. Cuddling on the couch after a mentally taxing conversation had unlocked new heights for you two, and though he does miss the way your cheeks flushed red whenever your fingers brushed, he prefers how now you just smile, honest and bright, whenever he’s closer than he should be. You don’t know that, but Spencer thinks your spoiling him rotten with these smiles. In your defence, however, smiling at him is just the easiest thing in the world. “Okay, what do we think of this one? His name is–“

“No.” 

Your head whips to look at him, eyes wide behind your glasses. “But I didn’t even finish my sentence!”

“There is a weird gap in his resume,” Spence points out with a smug smile. He likes showing off to you, you’ve noticed. 

“I can ask him about it during the interview process! Spence, he used to work at–“

“Next.” 

You know he won’t budge when he gives you that tight-lipped, dimples-showing smile of his. “My god, you are hard to please,” You grumble and poke him in the stomach with your elbow, already scrolling to the next email. 

When you feel his arm falling onto the back of your chair, you lean back a little into his touch, humming to keep yourself awake. “I am not hard to please,” He says easily. “I just won’t accept you hiring mediocre men to do the job you’ve been doing flawlessly.” 

The way he emphasises men makes you chuckle. “But a mediocre woman is okay?”

“A bit better,” He admits gruffly, and you laugh. “This one seems promising!”

“Give me time to read, Spencer!” You groan, leaning forward again and nodding while your eyes scan through each line. “Okay, she seems good, Mr. Picky. Studied English Literature, so she’ll obviously have some literary background, has previous experience managing bookshops and cafes, has dealt with stock and suppliers before…” The list goes on and on, and you write her name down on the notebook to your right. That’s where the names Penelope will be running a background check on go, per Spencer’s insistence. 

“Wait a second,” Something about the name, so visual and palpable in your little notebook previously filled with facts and memories of Spencer, makes you frown. Why does it sound so familiar? 

Abigail Harrison. 

“What is it?” He hums, chin once again finding perch on your shoulder. Little by little, you start to think that that is where he belongs, leaning on you, relying on you. “Who is Abigail Harrison?” 

“I don’t–“ But then you see it, the address on top of the resume and you hold your breath. “Abigail.” 

“Abi– Wait, the new neighbour? That Abigail?” His arms go around you, and now you’re in an awkward angle, half falling off the chair, half leaning on him, but you don’t mind. What you do mind is the uncomfortable, suspicious feeling in your gut. “Oh. That’s fine.” 

“You don’t think it’s a weird coincidence?” Turning to look at him, you bit your lip in unsureness. 

“Not really– if anything, I think it’s a very logical series of events,” He shrugs and you feel it in your own body. “She clearly has the experience and is obviously looking for a job, so why not one that fits her as an employee and is just a five minute walk across the street?” 

As if sensing your worries, Spencer moves, yet again doing the unpredictable and dropping a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Having one thing to worry about it not enough, apparently, so he gives you another one, and now you know for a fact you won’t be able to sleep any time soon. He’s been doing things like this lately, and you think it’s because he’s finally getting used to your presence next to him at almost all hours of the day. His phobia of germs seems to be pushed aside when it comes to your skin, and if he washes his hand right after letting you go, you don’t take it to heart; it’s just who he is. But with cheek kisses and forehead kisses starting a list, this is yet another one for you to tally up– shoulder kisses. All five stars, ten-out-of-ten-would-do-it-again, though you don’t really ask him for them. You just wait. Living with Spencer has taught you patience, amongst many other things, and for him you don’t mind exercising it to its fullest, excited for your list to grow even longer. 

“Garcia already ran her name through the database,” He whispers in your ear, hands going up and down your arms in a gesture that tells you he knows you’re nervous. “She’s clean, sweetheart.” 

This is new too. 

Letting out a strangled noise at the changes that kept on coming, you nod, mind completely shifting focus. “Yeah, okay,” You breathe out, eyes slowly fighting to stay open and not because of the time. “I uh, I’ll reply to her and ask her to come in to the shop for an interview…”

“That sounds great, but it also sounds like it can be done tomorrow when you’re not almost falling asleep,” Oh, sweet, innocent Spencer. Before you can even protest, he shakes his head, smiling like he’s trying to hold it back. “We’re going to bed, Y/N. I have work tomorrow and now, so do you.” 

Any and all protests fall disappear from your lips– the prospect of getting to go to work after only being able to keep the store’s website open actually has you excited enough to make you sleepy. The contradictory emotions will surely bit you in the ass when you actually lay down next to Spencer, but you don’t care. You get to open up the shop again and that alone is enough to make you squeak in glee, naked feet thumping through the wooden floor. He always bugs you to put on socks, afraid that you’ll get sick with the cold breeze that manages to push its way in despite the windows being shut, but you like feeling the cold on your soles. It always sends a little zap of life up your body and you enjoy it the same way kids enjoy hopping in the mud despite the mess– it makes you feel alive. 

There is a rhythmic routine to how you and Spencer get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth behind you, and you usually wash your face first, so that while he does it, you can braid your hair ready for the night. At first, you didn’t really worry about that because you two did your best to stay in your respective corner of the bed. You tried putting a pillow between you too but after the first time you kicked it off of the bed, you never bring it to the room with you again. Then you tried just paying attention, but that made you lose a significant amount of sleep and you ended up cranky for days. Giving up and accepting that, like it or not, you will end up waking up in Spencer’s arms, legs tangled with his and mouth drooling a little on his shirt, had been the best thing to do to move forward. Now, you two don’t pretend that anything else will happen, and before you’re even asleep, he opens his arms with a grunt, your signal to scoot closer and enjoy your very own space heater of man. “Alright, alright, I’m here,” You mumbled, happy with the way your body is warm but your feet are cold. So cold, in fact, that the moment one brushes up against his, Spencer yelps. 

“What the hell was that?” He gasps, eyes going wide in shock. 

“What?” You ask, smiling mischievously. 

It would be unfair to say that the fear from early in the days has disappeared. It hasn’t– you’re still scared. Sometimes, it tackles you like a football player, abruptly and with so much force that you’re left breathless and immobile for a few minutes. Other times, it creeps up behind you, and you have time to prepare yourself. Despite the sudden appearances, however, your fear has lost that constantness that it had before. It’s duller, to the point that at times it’s just not there at all. And you quite like it, everything considered… it gives you space to breathe. It also gives you space to be– not be anything specific, but just be. And the more you can be, the more your personality starts to come back, peeking through the curtains you had set between yourself and the world. 

Spencer always knew you were a playful woman, but this just confirmed it. “Y/N, don’t you–AH! Oh my god, these are death machines! Put some socks on!”

“Never!” You shout before fully pushing your feet against his legs. 

Laying there, feeling Spencer squirm underneath you and then going off on some random fact about why it is important to keep your feet warm, is when you remember. 

You are a believer in silver linings. 

And you believe Spencer might just be yours. 

————————————

The shop looked exactly like you had left it, which made you happy and sad at the same time. Took you almost an hour to leave the house that morning, Spencer practically having to drag you away from the mirror with promises that “You look beautiful, Y/N.” Officer Kaper is waiting for you by the door when Spencer drops you off with a kiss to your cheek and hurried steps down the street. 

From then on, it’s a frenzy of cleaning. You try to convince Officer Kaper– or Mike, as he told you to call him– that he should sit down and guard the door, but he’s having none of it and instead, carries the not so heavy boxes of brand new books that you ordered as soon as you got news you’d be coming back to work. This is exciting to you, this return to normal, but it also makes you somewhat anxious. Once all of this is resolved– and you’ve taken to thinking about it with the mindset that it is not if it will be resolved, but once it is resolved– what will happen to you and Spencer? Living with him has its perks and the biggest one is that you get to actually see him with some sort of frequency. You get to experience having him in your life instead of just someone who comes and goes as they want. If you go back home, even if just across the street, right above your store he visits everyday… will you still feel this connection you do right now? Will you still get forehead kisses, and sneaky touches of his hand, and his pinky hooking with yours when you pass by?

None of that matters, though, when you hear the bell ringing through the shop. A customer. “Hello!” You call out from the shelves, making your way to the front. A buzz of anxiousness runs through you, though you quickly put it out; there is a literal police office standing guard by the door. You are safe. 

You are even safer when you see it’s Abigail, the downstairs neighbour. 

“Hi! I’m a little early, I hope that’s alright?” 

Oh god. With all the cleaning and organising, you lost track of time. “Oh gosh, yeah, of course!” You say, pulling your hair down from the mess on top of your hair and smoothing it down. 

You want to make a good impression on her. Out of all four interviews you have today, you hate to admit that Abigail seems the most fit for the position. Her experience is almost immaculate and her immediate availability is almost too good to be true. In fact, Abigail as a whole, with her warm smile and welcoming aura, seems too good to be true. As much as you believe in silver linings, she just seems like a straight up miracle. 

“Please, sit,” Pointing to the foldable chair by the corner of the counter, you smile. “We don’t really have a sitting area yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” Abigail’s voice is bright and peppy, and you should like her. You do like her, actually, but even so, you can’t quite ignore the nagging feeling in your gut. “I also brought a copy of my resume in case you didn’t have mine readily available–“

“I have it here, but thank you!” So far she has been nothing but delightful, and to be honest, it’s almost like she is a missing puzzle. The way she fits in the store is almost weird, and maybe is the way she is dressed so similarly to you, or how she looks like someone who would manage a bookshop, all plaid and cardigans and pretty smiles. 

Pretty.

Abigail is pretty and that’s when it downs on you that you feel a little jealous. You are not ugly by any means, but the idea that Spencer will go to your store only to look at another woman– a younger, prettier woman– has you holding your breath. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” 

Snapping out of it, you blush in embarrassment. You’re being crazy and you know it. “Yeah! Sorry, my mind went somewhere else for a second. So uh, why don’t we start with you just telling me a little bit about yourself and what do you want to work here, I guess.” You sound as unsure as you feel, and you suddenly regret saying no to the list of questions Spencer offered to make you. 

“Well, we’ve met briefly when I was moving into the building,” She giggles. “But my name is Abigail Harrison, recently moved to Washington D.C. from New York City–“

“I’m from New York!” You exclaim, big smile spreading as you finally place the familiar intonation in her voice. 

“No way! Where? I was born and raised in Brooklyn!” And suddenly it all makes sense– her cool nerdiness, her extroverted nature, her ease to fit in. This girl is definitely from Williamsburg.

“Oh, I was raised in the West Village but then moved to uh, Upper East Side,” The memory of moving in with Joshua is an uncomfortable one and makes you immediately change the course of the conversation. Throughout this interaction, you have to remember to be nice, but also serious. You don’t want to give her the impression that this will be an easy job, specially not with how reluctant you already were with hiring someone. “So, why do you want to work here? Besides the close proximity, of course.”

“To be honest, I–“ And there is a pause. It’s not long nor weird, it just sounds like she’s thinking, but Spencer likes to point out your own pauses whenever you try to lie to him about your strategy during nightly backgammon, and it’s become a sort of a bad habit you’ve gotten from him. Squinting, you let her continue. “I just really like the store. I know this sounds a bit ridiculous, but I walk past here every morning, and every morning, I prayed that it would be open. Everything inside looked so… homey. So familiar. And I’ve worked with books my entire life, you know? I thought… it was fate.” 

There is a redness in her cheeks that makes you squirm in your seat, nape of your neck suddenly feeling a little clammy. “Fate…” You mumble, nodding while looking down at the blank notebook on your lap. Right now, you are torn– you are trying to understand what is it about Abigail that makes you so hesitant while also fighting against your gut simply because the more she talks about her experience, the more you know she has to be the one. 

“…and after almost five years as a manager, I’ve found that I have a really good method of keeping things in order,” She finishes, nodding eagerly for you to show her any reaction. 

“That is really good to hear,” You gulp, getting your head back in place. “So just to reiterate, this would be a full time, part time position, of sorts. I would still come in some days in the week, and you would be acting manager whenever I am not here to oversee things. Whenever I am here though, you would be a very welcomed extra pair of hands and company. Believe it or not, we tend to get quite busy during lunch time and it was getting a bit too much to be here by myself.”

“So we’d still work together some days, right?” Her excitement is so clear in her voice that even Officer Kaper turns to pay more attention to you two. “Like, we’d still get to be a uh, a team?”

“Of course,” You say, nodding stiffly and looking at the clock. “I love working in a collaborative environment and I wouldn’t leave you alone in a new job straight away. We’ll start with training days and go from there.”

“That sounds incredible!”

“Yeah…” Looking at Mike– you are doing your best to abide by his wishes and call him by his first name– he gives you a little nod of recognition. “Anyways, do you have any questions for me?” When she shakes her head, you get up and offer her a hand to shake. “I’ll be making a decision by today end of day. I have a couple of other people to interview, but I’ll let you know either way.” 

Is it just you or is her hand lingering a little? 

“If you don’t call me, I know where to find you,” She says, her little laughter giving out the fact that this is supposed to be a joke. But you don’t laugh. And neither does the armed policeman by your door. 

“Ha ha,” You say, trying your best to be nice regardless. “That you do!”

“Your boyfriend is lucky to have you, I bet he gets lots of books for free,” Abigail is a chatterbox, that much is clear, and with every try for a conversation, the more you feel like she’s just digging for gossip. For a minute, you actually think you are back in high school. 

“Wha–“

“Or is that not your boyfriend?” 

You don’t really know what to do, and it shows. Which is why you’re not surprised at all when Officer Kaper, your one and only hero, steps in. “Sorry to ask, ma’am, I should’ve said something before, but would you mind me checking your ID? We are conducting a security check system for the businesses in this area, there has been a rise in robberies lately and this is just for precaution.” 

“Oh my! Of course,” After that, it doesn’t take long for her leave. 

There is not even a minute of silence until a customer walks in and you have to slap that fake smile in your face again. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up in a way that makes you a bit too aware of everything, and that, in turn, makes your heart skip a beat. Nervously glancing at Mike, you keep trying to remind yourself that you are safe, that you have someone to protect you. It’s hard to focus on your work when Spencer’s voice echoes in your head making up a list of everything that could go wrong. Your job is very open to the general public. People can easily see inside. You don’t know what they have in their bags. His habit of mouthing off whatever comes to mind is not coming back to bite you in the ass. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Officer Kaper’s questions snaps you back to reality.

“Huh? Oh! No!” Shaking your head, you awkwardly lean over the counter to try and ignore the sure blush on your cheeks. “She’s talking about Spencer.” 

“She knows Doctor Reid?” It’s clear from his tone that this arises some suspicion in him. 

“She just moved into the building and we met her when we were coming out for a second,” You shrug. You don’t want to feed your panic and you also don’t want to leave the man who got injured because of you on edge and scared. Abigail is just a bit taller than you and definitely stronger, with the body of someone who seems to care about her healthy appearance, while you… well, you prefer sitting on your armchair all afternoon with a cup of coffee and a book in your hands. A bit of a cliche, yes, but your life overall was a bit of a cliche, if you think too hard about it. “Spence thought it was better to let her believe whatever.” 

“Hm, I’m sure he did,” Mike said with a dramatic wink, wiggling his brows in that suggestive way that makes you chuckle so desperately that he has a hard time not laughing at your reaction. “You know, I think Doctor Reid has a crush on you.” 

“Ex-Excuse me?” You sputter out, eyes wide at how easy it is for this man to voice something that has been swimming in your head so insistently. 

Spencer having a crush on you is not that wild of a thought, when you think about it objectively. It’s the Proximity Principle. You read about it once back when you were in college and it’s kind of stuck– people are more likely to form close relationships with other people they spend significant amount of time with. Unfortunately, though, you also know that crushes are also dependant on a certain fantastical factor, something that allows humans to project a lot of their needs onto the one that holds their affections. Predicting Spencer’s needs is actually not hard either, and the more he tells you about himself, the more your heart break for the boy that lives inside that man; the one that is afraid of being abandoned, the one that misses his mother dearly, the one sees a family in the coworkers he spends so much time with. You see how you can fulfil this role for him, you’re not blind nor stupid. His smile gives him away, to be very honest, with how bright and big it gets when he notices you waiting for him to get home, sitting in your armchair, reading the book he left for you next to it. Or how he tries to hold it back, that gorgeous, beautiful smile, when he hears you calling his name, all whiny and shy at the same time, to ask him something so ridiculous and out of pocket that he can’t do anything but laugh. 

You are the sense of belonging he never had. 

The same way that he is the sense of consistency you’ve always craved. Though in your case, you know that he is so much more than that. 

In his… well, you will never know until you ask. 

And my god, you’re not ready to ask.

“Yeah, a crush,” Officer Kaper shrugs, walking to the counter and smiling like a kid saying something naughty. “He used to talk about you all the time, before all this. The pretty bookseller.” 

“Now you’re just enjoying making me squirm,” You say, squinting at him despite how his words make your heart race. 

“Maybe I am,” He jokes. “But I’m serious! You two are obviously into each other… right?” 

“Officer–“

“Mike, please!”

“Mike,” You sigh with an attitude, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “Are you trying to profile me?” 

His silence is enough of an answer to make you gasp. 

“It’s not like that–“

“Mike, do you want to be a BAU profiler?!” The way you whisper makes all of this feel like a big secret ever. Your body is leaning over to try and get closer to him, and you’re so excited about knowing this that it makes you bounce a little in your feet. “Why didn’t you say something before? I’m sure Spence would help! You can ask him all the questions and–“

“I already too the FBI entrance exam once and didn’t get in,” He interrupts you with such abruptness that something in the air shifts. This is not fun anymore. It’s tense. “It’s fine. I’m happy doing my part here with the MPD.” 

“You are,” You nod. “You really are. Thank you.” 

That is the last of the small talk for the day, the next interviewee coming in before you can say another peep. 

————————————

“Did you have a good time at the store today?” 

This is the first time that you are not the one doing the waiting. Or the cooking. Or– “Did you clean?” You ask, a bit shocked with how spotless the entire place looks even though the air smells like tomato sauce and… something else? 

“Why do you say this as something so hard to believe?” Spencer is baffled at your expression, laughing incredulously. “I live here! This is my apartment! I’ve been living by myself since I was 18!”

“I just never seen you clean!” You defend yourself with a lighthearted laughter.

“I’m thirty years old!”

“That just means you’re old,” And you two fall back to the usual teasings while you walk around the living room, dropping your coat and bag on the couch, and moving into the kitchen to help with whatever you can. “Oh my! And you even cooked! Careful Spence, you’re spoiling me… I might just want you to make me dinner everyday from now on.” 

Spencer just shrugs with that little shy smile playing on his lips. “I could get used to spoiling you…” 

“I could get used to being spoiled,” You mumble, eyes unwavering from his. Letting the tension of the moment grow, you push your hair behind your ears. “Can I help with anything?” 

“Not really, I made sure to start it really so it would be ready when you came home,” He says and turns into a ball of excitement that is all limbs and fast words. You love him like this and so you listen, like you’ve been yearning to do all day. He tells you that this is a recipe that Rossi taught him a while ago, and the wine is the exact same one he recommended back then, and just as he says, when you look closely to the busy workspace on the kitchen isle, there they are– two glasses half-full. In a very Spence fashion, he goes on and on about the exactness of the ingredients and how the whole idea that cooking is about ‘feeling it’ is kind of stupid, but the more he talks, the more breathless you find yourself. 

There is wine. 

There are entrees, and it looks like Spencer did his due diligence, buying your favourite crackers from the deli nearby. 

There are main dishes, sides, dessert; and you guess it is some sort of a tiramisu, catching the smudges of chocolate powder and coffee by the sink. 

And then there is Spencer. There is Spencer back home early. Spencer wearing his favourite purple sweater. Spencer with his combed hair. Spencer without his phone? Now you are suspicious, looking around with a confused frown on your face.  

“Is everything okay?” 

“Where is your phone?” His satchel is also not where he usually leaves it, gone from it’s perch by the door. 

“My phone?” He asks, sounding as confused as you. “Why do you need my phone?” 

“I don’t, I just never seen you without it.” 

“Oh,” That makes him laugh. “I don’t need it today.”

“Why not?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” Spencer catches you by the shoulder and brings you back to the set dinner. “Just sit down and enjoy this. We finally have some time to spend together.” 

“You would never let anything kill me,” You say so easily that it can’t be anything else other than the truth. “Why don’t you need your phone?” 

He snorts and turns to mix something in one of his many pans. “Because Hotch and Rossi forbade the team to call me tonight. Derek said he’d be on call instead.” 

“That’s awfully nice of Mister Muscles,” You comment offhandedly and there is something about the way you notice Spencer tensing a little that makes your smirk.

“He has a girlfriend, you know.”

“Oh, I know– I heard it all from his baby girl, who is not his girlfriend, but is a big fan of that couple,” You say, happily smiling while munching on a cracker. “Why?”

“Just checking if you knew. A lot of girls are usually… taken… by Derek’s looks and charms, but he’s off the market now. I think Savannah is here to stay.” 

Crinkling your nose at the though of dating Agent Derek Morgan, you quickly shake your head. “God, no, I’m not– No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is objectively handsome, but he’s not my type.” 

“Are we talking about the same Derek Morgan?” He scoffs without turning to you. “He is everyone’s type…”

“Not mine,” You repeat, silently getting up from where you sway your feet. With muted steps, you walk around the kitchen isle to stand behind him, fidgeting with your hands in a moment of unsureness. 

Maybe you are reading this wrong. Not every man that does a nice gesture is interested in you, you know that mainly because you never really believe people are interested in you at all, but it’s getting progressively hard to not look at everything he had done for you and not think it is a date. 

Before you can overthink this, Spencer is moving backwards. “Oh? What is your type, then– oh fuck!” Your arms go around his waist as soon as he bumps into you, and you don’t let him squirm away, even though he tries. “Y/N, wha-what are you doing…?”

Gently, you let your head fall onto his back, forehead pressing close to his nape. Silence reigns until you are ready to speak, but Spencer waits, tense and oh so patient. “Spencer,” You whisper with your broken voice, nerves getting the best of you and making you shake like a chihuahua. “Spencer, is this–“ 

Sweet as ever, his hand moves from the counter, where his knuckles are white with how hard he grips it, to a slow touch to your hand. Brushing his fingers overs your skin, he whispers back. “Is this what?”

“Spencer is this a…” Why can’t you bring yourself to say it? 

Around you, there is noise. You hear the neighbours upstairs, the click-clack of their shoes echoing until they are gone. You hear the heater pipes reading themselves to work through the night once again. You hear the food in front of you two bubbling and sizzling. And my god, do you hear him… you hear his heart, beating, racing, so strong and fast, that you smile to yourself. This is all Spencer– every noise, every shake, every thump and thud of that amazing, loving heart of his.

“It is.” 

Your arms squeeze around him in shock. “I didn’t even say it.”

“By now, you should know you don’t have to,” The soft cadence of his perfect pronunciation tells you that he is feeling confident and calm, and you bask in it for a second or two. Until he hits you with the million dollar question. “If Morgan is not your type, who is?”

“I want to say it, though.”

“Who is your type?”

It’s a weird battle of stubbornness between you two, but you don’t mind. You would fight this war forever, if it meant this– feeling him alive and breathing and laughing. “Let me say it,” You ask, smiling coyly even though he can’t see it. “Please.” His adorable little laughter sends a wave of ripples down his back and you press your face closer to feel it. “Say it then.”

“Spencer Reid, is this a date?” 

“I was hoping it would be,” He says and pauses. “Y/N Y/L/N, am I your type?” 

“I don’t really have a type,” You say slowly, pulling back a little to nudge him to turn around. You only smile when you see his eyes– those curious, curious eyes– that constantly look for answers for his questions. Sometimes, you don’t have answers, but he looks for them anyways. First in one, then the other. Spencer looks at you carefully, slowly, like you are something worth committing to that memory of his by the detail. Like he wants to remember you even when he closes his eyes. You see it, how you make him feel like he belongs, with your open smiles and blinking eyes. But you also see, for the first time, how you are also so much more. “But if I did, it would be you.” 

You are a believer in silver linings. 

And yes, Spencer might just be yours… specially with the way his lips feel against yours. 

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

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[milgram-en]

Trial 1 - John Doe Voice Drama (Side-by-Side English Translation)

Preface: I’ll say this upfront: The John Doe VD translation on YouTube has a lot of mistranslations. Some things are just pulled out of thin air, especially with Kotoko’s dialogue. I hope this translation can help clear things up and, since the original text from the scriptbook is also provided, you are free to double check the translations itself and develop your thoughts from there. As Yamanaka has said in his Twitter 部外者からの表面的な理解は、攻撃とたいして変わらないからね (A shallow understanding from someone on the outside can feel just as violent as a direct attack). Translators have an ethical duty to respect the original writers and the speech community (the language and its culture) in their translations. Otherwise, it can contribute to a lot of harm. Especially when it comes to portrayals of persons that come from and are shaped by our present-day world, mistranslations of the themes found in this series can result in a lot of violence down the line. Google Docs version of this translation. If using/reuploading/reposting this translation, do not remove the translator's notes, do not color code the translations, and do not change the translations. Any additional Translator's Notes will be found in the replies. Check the original post before reblogging as TLs are occasionally revisited and edited.

ミルグラム監獄内尋問室 MILGRAM PRISON INTERROGATION ROOM 薄暗い尋問室。 A dimly lit interrogation room.

尋問室でミコトが椅子に座っている、足をぶらつかせ、暇そうな態度。 ふと、深い溜め息をつき、 Mikoto is sitting on a chair in the interrogation room, legs dangling, looking bored. Suddenly, he lets out a deep sigh. ミコト　「はあ～〜」 MIKOTO: Ha… 思わず、天を仰ぐ。 Unbeknownstly, he looked up towards the heavens. ミコト　「……こんなとこで何やってんだろ、僕」 MIKOTO: …What am I doing in a place like this? I… エス　「本当にな」 ES: Truth be told, I wonder that as well. ミコト　「うわっ！」 MIKOTO: Ah-! エス　「ま、それを明らかにするのもミルグラムの仕事だ」 ES: Well, it’s MILGRAM’s job to make that clear. いつの間にか尋問室の扉は開いており、エスがじっとミコトを見ている。 驚いて椅子ごと倒れ込みそうになったミコト、あわてて、 Before you knew it, the door to the interrogation room was open and ES stared at MIKOTO. MIKOTO gasps—startled—and almost falls out of the chair. ミコト　「ちょっと！びっくりさせないでよ、看守くん。ドアを開ける時はノックするってそこそこ常識じゃない？」 MIKOTO: Hold on-! Don’t scare me like that, Warden-kun! Isn’t it common sense to knock before opening a door?  エス　「うるさい、指図するな」 ES: Shut up, don’t tell me what to do. ミコト　「横暴なんだけど！」 MIKOTO: Isn’t that tyrannical of you though?! ミコトの言葉に取り合わず、エスは向かいの椅子に座る。偉そうに足を組む。 ES disregards MIKOTO’s words indifferently, taking none to heart, and sits in the chair opposite to him. They cross their legs arrogantly.  エス　「尋問を始めるぞ、囚人番号9番、ミコト」 ES: Let’s begin the interrogation, Prisoner Number 9, MIKOTO. ミコト　「いやいや、尋問って言われても……別に何も隠してることなんてないってば」 MIKOTO: Hey, hey- no- Despite calling it an “interrogation”... I’m really not hiding anything. [T/N: Calling something an “interrogation” implies questioning someone in order to get information that may or may not be hidden. Interrogations can sometimes use threats or violence. (Cambridge Dictionary)] エス　「名前、年齢」 ES: Name. Age. カヤノミコト KAYANO, MIKOTO ミコト　「えーっと、榧野尊23歳……じゃなくてさ、僕はずーっと君に話があったんだよ看守くん」 MIKOTO: Uh, well… Mikoto Kayano, 23 years-old… Ah, well I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, Warden-kun. [T/N: ES uses the katakana spelling of ミコト (mikoto) which frames and highlights MIKOTO’s difference from Es, him the Prisoner and Es the Warden. Katakana is typically used for words with an outsiderness (ex. foreign loanwords), for emphasis, and/or to make something seem “louder” in some aspect. However, MIKOTO uses kanji spelling of his name 榧野尊 (kayano mikoto) which is the proper and legal way, attributing to him a groundedness in humanity compared to the alienation that spelling something in katakana can make. This is why, instead of translating 榧野尊 as “MIKOTO KAYANO”, it was translated into “Mikoto Kayano” instead.] エス　「なんだ？手短に済ませろ」 ES: What? Make it short. ミコト　「ねぇ、いつ終わるのこれ？」 MIKOTO: Hey, when is this going to end? エス　「はぁ？」 ES: Hah? ミコトの質問が想定外だったエス、怪訝な顔。それを見てヒートアップするミコト。 ES looks puzzled. They were not expecting MIKOTO’s question. Seeing this, MIKOTO gets fired up. ミコト　「いや！そりゃそうでしょ！急にこんな所に連れてこられてさ！ヒトゴロシだのなんだの訳わからないこと言われて……なにかのドッキリとか？リアリティショーとか？モニタリングされてる的な！！そう思って我慢してたんだけど！？！ だからこそ、他の皆とも仲良くやってんだけどさ！テレビだとしたら映りとか気を使うじゃん！？！でも、��もさ！あまりにも長すぎる！なんなのこれ！」 MIKOTO: No-! Of course! Look- I was suddenly brought to this place and-! Telling me things I don’t understand like being a "murderer"… Is this some sort of prank? A reality TV show? Where I’m being monitored?!! I thought that that was what I was trying to endure!?! That’s why I was getting along with everyone else! If it was TV, you have to be careful with how you look! But, but! It’s been going on for way too long!?! What is this! [T/N: ヒトゴロシ (hitogoroshi) “murderer” is spelled with katakana. In order to translate over the vibes that gives highlight and distance to the word, "murderer" is placed within quotation marks.] エス　「はぁ……お前まだそんなこと思っていたのか？ミルグラムが、何かの冗談だと」 ES: Ha… You still think that? That MILGRAM is some kind of funny little joke? ミコト　「思ってるよ……思ってるに決まってるだろ！」 MIKOTO: I really do… Of course I’d do!

鼻息荒いミコト、少しずつ息を落ち着けると、しゅんとした表情を見せる。 MIKOTO is breathing heavily, calming his breathing down little-by-little, a despondent look on his face. ミコト　「……だって、僕は本当に身に覚えがないんだ。罪を犯したとか、ヒトゴロシとか言われても、知らないよ……僕はただのしがない会社員だし……」 MIKOTO: …Because I, myself, really don’t remember anything. Even if you say I committed a crime or "murdered" someone, I really don’t know anything… I’m just your standard, everyday lowly office worker… エス　「ふうん………」 ES: Hm… ミコト　「……なんだよ、人が真剣に話してるってのに、ニヤニヤして」 MIKOTO: What’s up with you? A person’s talking seriously and you’re here grinning. エス　「……考えてみれば初めてだと思ってな。『まったく身に覚えがない』としらばっくれる囚人は……」 ES: …Come to think of it, this is the first time a prisoner’s tried to feign ignorance saying, “I really don’t have any recollection of anything whatsoever.” ミコト　「しらばっくれてないって！マジで！マジで知らない！ほら、僕の目見て！ほら！」 MIKOTO: I’m not feigning it! Seriously! I really don’t know! Look, look into my eyes! Look! ミコト、エスの肩を持ち正対させ、まじまじと瞳を見つめる。 MIKOTO holds ES by the shoulders and turns them to face him directly, looking intently into their eyes.

エス　「さわるな、馴れ馴れしい」 ES: Don’t touch me. You’re being too casual. [T/N: Alternatively translated as: “Don’t touch me. You’re being too buddy-buddy [when you’re a Prisoner and I’m the Warden].” which preserves the implications/nuances.]

ミコト　「いいから、ちゃんとこっちを見てよ！」 MIKOTO: C’mon, just look at me seriously! エス 　「……ふーん」 ES: Hmm. ミコト　「どう？マジでしょ」 MIKOTO: So? I’m being truthful, right? エス　「知るか。『嘘をついているような目に見えない』とでも言われることを期待したか。僕はそんな曖昧なもので判断はしない」 ES: Who knows. Do you expect me to say, “You don’t look like you’re lying” or something? I don’t make judgements based on vague things like that.

進まない話に、苛立つミコト。エスの肩にかけた手を離す。 MIKOTO is losing his patience, annoyed at the lack of progress in the conversation. He takes his hands off of ES’ shoulders. ミコト　「だー、もう……ん？いや、待ってくれ。そもそも僕が何をしたか看守くんも知らないんだろ？」 MIKOTO: Ah c’mon..! No- Wait a second. Warden-kun has no idea what I did in the first place, right? エス　「あぁ、まったく知らない」 ES: Ah, I have absolutely no clue. ミコト　「なんだよ、それ！それで僕をヒトゴロシだと決めつけるなんて横暴じゃない？」 MIKOTO: What’s with that! Because of that, isn’t it oppressive of you to brand me a “murderer”? [T/N: 横暴 (ougou) can mean violence, oppression, tyranny. When MIKOTO says “Isn’t it oppressive of you” there’s a sense of him calling ES’ action of branding him a label as serious as “murderer” even though ES has no idea what he did or if he really did commit a crime (since ES is going off of what Jackalope/MILGRAM told them) violent— something that hurts, damages, or even kills.] エス　「横ではない。ミルグラムがそう言っている。僕にはそれで十分だ」 ES: There’s no correlation in that. MILGRAM said that you’re a murderer. That’s enough for me. ミコト　「なんで盲目的にそれを信じられるんだよ。話にならないよ………」 MIKOTO: Why are you just blindly entrusting your belief to that? There’s no sense to it… エス　「……」 ES: … ミコト　「とにかく僕は本当に知らない。人も殺してない。悪いこともしてない。コツコツ普通に人生やってきただけ。それなのにこんな変なことに巻き込まれるなんてさ！」 MIKOTO: Anyway, I honestly have no idea. I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t done anything bad. I’ve just been diligently living an ordinary life and yet- I get caught up in some weird, suspicious thing- what’s with that! [T/N: By "weird, suspicious thing" he means MILGRAM.] イライラが募るミコト、思わず椅子から立ち上がる。 同時に振り上げた拳を、ゆっくり下ろす。 MIKOTO is getting more and more irritated, unconsciously standing up from his chair. At the same time, he slowly lowers his raised fist. ミコト　「……そんなの冗談だって、思いたいよ……思いたいだろ、こんなの……」 MIKOTO: …I want to believe that that’s just a joke…I want to think that this… エス　「ふむ」 ES: Hm. ミコト　「僕にだって生活があるんだよ、苦労して憧れの会社入ったばかりなんだよ……クビになったら責任取ってもらうからな……」 MIKOTO: I have a life, y’know? I toiled so hard just to get into the company of my dreams… If I get fired, you better take responsibility… [T/N: Being fired in Japan is an arduous task. Generally, if you get fired, you need to make sure that you: (1) get the certificate of dismissal/reason for firing; (2) go through the process of switching your pension and insurance; (3) make sure you get your unemployment insurance/severance pay/compensation; and optionally (4) contest the firing. There’s a lot of paperwork involved and the way companies are structured makes it a pain + take a long time to get anything done. Not to mention the emotional labor it takes to deal with bureaucracy since it’s not unheard of that employers can gaslight or be hostile.]

エス　「……なるほどね。面白い」 ES: …I see. How interesting. ミコト　「面白いことがあるもんか」 MIKOTO: What’s so interesting? 心底面白げにニヤつくエス。 わざとらしくパンと手を叩く。 ES grins, genuinely amused. They clap their hands in an exaggerated manner. エス　「よし、一旦その前提で話に付き合ってやる。……思考実験だ。ミコト、お前は何もしていない」 ES: Alright, for now, why don’t we go ahead and talk under that assumption of yours? …A thought experiment. MIKOTO, you haven’t done anything.  ミコト　「そう！そのとおりだよ、看守くん！」 MIKOTO: Yes! That’s right, Warden-kun! エス　「一旦な。一旦お前は囚人番号9番ミコトではないとしよう。そうだな、ただのミコトくんだ」 ES: For now. For now, let’s pretend you’re not Prisoner Number 9 MIKOTO. That’s right, you’re just MIKOTO-kun. ミコト　「いいね、ミコトくんでいこう！僕も親愛をこめてスーくんって呼ぶよ」 MIKOTO: That’s right, let’s go with MIKOTO-kun! I’ll also put in the effort and call you “Su-kun” [T/N: The “effort” MIKOTO’s putting in is more so “affection” (親愛, shin ai). Alternatively translated as: “I’ll also put in some dear effort and call you “Su-kun"] エス　「それはいらん。調子に乗るな」 ES: That’s unnecessary. Don’t get carried away. ミコト　「ええ……」 MIKOTO: Eeh…? ミコトに近づき、見上げるようににらみつけるエス。 ES approaches MIKOTO, glaring up at him. [T/N: There’s wordplay here with ミコトに近づき (mikoto ni chikadzuki). Chikadzuki can mean “approach” but it also means “making acquaintance with someone”. In the context of the interrogation, ES is both approaching MIKOTO and making acquaintance, getting to know him.] エス　「付き合ってやるかわりに一旦僕の言っていることを事実だと飲みこめ、ミルグラムはショーなどではなく現実だ」 ES: In exchange for going along with it, for now you’ll have to swallow what I’m saying as fact and that MILGRAM isn’t some show. It’s reality. ミコト　「ううん……えっと、ここがヒトゴロシを集めている施設ってこととか？それを歌と映像で云々とか？」 MIKOTO: Uh… so, this is some sort of institution or facility that assembles "murderers"? Through song and mental footage and stuff? エス　「そうだ。お前の言うことだけを言じるならば、お前以外の9人は��員ヒトゴロシだ」 ES: That’s right. If we’re only going by what you say, the other nine people are all murderers. ミコト　「そんな場所にいるのヤバすぎるでしょ。みんな全然そんな人たちに見えないし……ほら、そもそも小学生いるんだよ？」 MIKOTO: Isn't it way too dangerous to be in a place like that? None of them seem like a person who could do something like that at all… Look, why’s there even an elementary schooler here?

ミコトの言葉に眉をひそめるエス。 ES furrowed their eyebrows at MIKOTO’s words. エス　「……それはアマネにあまり言わないほうがいいぞ。めんどくさいことになる」 ES: …You shouldn’t say that to AMANE. It’ll just become a hassle. ミコト　「ん？なんで？」 MIKOTO: Huh? Why? エス　「まぁ、お前の言うことはわからないでもない。僕も尋問していて学んだ。人の印象はどうしても外見に引っ張られる」 ES: Well, I can understand where you’re coming from. I also learned this while interrogating people- The impression of a person is inevitably influenced by their external appearance.  ミコト　「でしょ～？ゆんちゃんとか、むっちゃんとかただのJKじゃん。ハルくんなんて虫も殺せなさそうな顔してるし、フータなんて傘パクんのがやっとでしょ。ほら、マッピーはただの良い人だし。ま、カズさんとかシドウさんとか……ま、あとコトちゃんとかは雰囲気的にワンチャンあるかもだけど」 MIKOTO: Isn’t it~? Yun-chan and Mu-chan are just high school girls. Haru-kun has a face that looks like he can’t even kill a bug, and Fuuta doesn’t seem like he can even steal an umbrella. And see- Mappi just seems like a good person. Uh, as for Kazu-san and Shidou-san… Well, there’s a chance that Koto-chan might have done something like that 'cause of her vibes.  [T/N: Umbrellas get stolen so often in Japan that it’s not strange to think that a normal person would steal one at some point, implying that MIKOTO thinks that Fuuta wouldn’t even do something bad that’s seemingly normalized/follow common behaviors.] エス　「……人物評参考にするよ、ミコトくん。ただ、そいつらはミルグラムが選んだ人間だ。間違いなく人の死に関わっている」 ES: …I’ll take your character evaluations into consideration, MIKOTO-kun. Nevertheless, they are the humans MILGRAM selected. Without a doubt, they are connected to someone’s death. [T/N: The “they” そいつら (soitsura) in “they are the humans MILGRAM selected” has derogatory connotations with it. Also, people who use the term 間違いなく (machigai naku) are generally thought of as people who are prideful or perfectionists.] ミコト　「うーん……まあ、まあいいや。一旦信じる」 MIKOTO: Uhuh… Well, alright then. I’ll believe that for now.

苦い顔で受け止めるミコト。 エスがびしっと指をさす。 MIKOTO relents, a bitter look on his face. ES points their finger sharply. エス　「では。そんなところに無実のミコトくんが選ばれた理由はなんだと思う？」 ES: Well then. Why do you believe that the Innocent MIKOTO-kun was chosen for such a place? ミコト　「んー……人違い」 MIKOTO: Mm… mistaken identity. エス　「ほう？」 ES: Oh? ミコト　「そっち側の判断基準の細かいとこに目をつぶるとすると……同姓同名だとか、外見が似てるとか、そういう取り間違え」 MIKOTO: If we ignore the finer details of MILGRAM's criteria for judgement… it could be that it’s a blunder from something like having the same name, similar external appearance or something. エス　「ミルグラムの誤作動ということか？」 ES: You’re saying that it’s a MILGRAM malfunction? [T/N: Alternatively translated into: “You’re saying that it’s a failure on MILGRAM’s part?” 誤作動 (gosadou) can mean malfunction; failure; operating incorrectly.] ミコト　「そうそう、他に考えようがないもん」 MIKOTO: Yeah, yeah, that’s right. I can’t think of anything else that it could possibly be. エス　「そうか？僕はもうひとつ思い浮かんでいるぞ」 ES: Really? Frankly, I can think of one thing coming to mind. ミコトの顔を覗き込むエス。 ES looks at MIKOTO’s face.  エス　「お前は人を殺したことを忘れている」 ES: You’ve forgotten that you’ve killed a person. エスの言葉に目を丸くするミコト。 MIKOTO’s eyes widened at ES’ words. ミコト　「は？忘れている？人を殺したことを？そんなことありえる？」 MIKOTO: Huh? Forgotten? That you killed a person? Is that even possible? エス　「お前が嘘をついていない。ミルグラムは正しい。両方の条件をのめば、この答えが導き出されるのは、自然だろう」 ES: You’re not lying; MILGRAM is correct; if you’re to accept both clauses, it’s only natural to arrive at this answer. [T/N: The 正しい (tadashii) in “MILGRAM is correct” can mean “correct”, “right”, “righteous”/“just”, “proper” etc.] ミコト　「忘れている……僕が？人を殺したことを……？」 MIKOTO: Forgotten… Me? Killing a person…? エス　「人間はストレスを避けるために記憶に蓋をすることもあるという。解離性健忘のように」 ES: They say that humans sometimes put a lid on memories in order to avoid stress. For example, dissociative amnesia. ミコト　「……ス、ストレス？いやいや、まさか知らないうちに人を殺してるなんて、そんなことあるわけ……」 MIKOTO: …S-stress? No, no way- There’s no way I could’ve killed someone while not even knowing it- That can’t be possible… エス　「……お前の発言を僕が信じてやるには、この線で考える以外ないね。僕はお前のこと以上に、ミルグラムを信じているからな。そこを疑うことはありえない」 ES: …I have no choice but to consider something along these lines if I’m going to believe your statements. I trust MILGRAM more than I believe in you. There’s no doubt about that. ミコト　「……いや……いやいや」 MIKOTO: …No….No, no- エス　「看守として、断言しよう。お前は、ヒトゴロシだ」 ES: As Warden, let’s go ahead and assert this: You. are. a. murderer. ミコト　「ちょっと待って。ないないタンマタンマ……頭おかしくなるって……やめてよ。嫌なことばかり……言うの……」 MIKOTO: Wait a minute- No, no, no- Time out time out- …You’re driving me crazy…please stop it. You keep saying such… awful things…

イラつきで頭をがしがしとかくミコト。 その様子を見て、エスがふうと息をつく。 MIKOTO scratches his head in frustration. Seeing this, ES takes a deep breath. ミコト　「知らないうちに……殺人犯になってんの……はは、ないない……」 MIKOTO: Without knowing it…becoming a murderer…haha- there’s no way, no way… エス　「ふん、時間をやる。記憶の糸を手繰るがいいさ」 ES: Hmph. Let’s give it some time. Tugging in the threads of your memory would do you some good. ミコト　「...…うぅ……うう」 MIKOTO: …Ah…ah… 声にならない声でうめくミコトに、背を向けカツカツと離れていくエス。 As MIKOTO groans in a voiceless voice, ES turns their back and walks away. [T/N: 声にならない声 (koe ni naranai koe) “voiceless voice” has a nuance that you’re being assaulted with the emotions welling up in your heart that you can’t express into words.] エス　「人を殺した記憶がない殺人者……だとすれば……どう考えるべきか……」 ES: A murderer who has no memory of killing people… If that’s the case… how should I think about this… 独り言を呟きながら、部屋の中を歩き回るエス。 ES walks around the room, muttering to themself.

エ ス　「なぁ、ミコー」 ES: Hey, MIKO- ミコト　「ああああああああああ！！！」 MIKOTO: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! エス　「！？」 ES: !? ミコトが椅子でエスを殴りつける。軽いエスは吹き飛び、壁に叩きつけられる。 MIKOTO strikes ES hard with a chair. ES, being light, gets flown across and slams into the wall. ミコト　「あーーーっ！！！」 MIKOTO: Aaaaah!!! ミコトは続けざまに力まかせに椅子を投げつけ、大きな物音が立つ。 MIKOTO continues on, throwing the chair with all his might, making a large noise. エス　「ぐあっ！なっ……何が、ミ、コト……！？！」 ES: Guh-! Wh… What are you- MI- KOTO…!?! ミコト　「ふっ……ふぅう……ふう……！！」 MIKOTO: Hah…hah…hah…!!! 状況のつかめないエス。 目の血走ったミコト、息が荒く別人のよう。 ES can’t make sense of the situation. MIKOTO’s eyes are bloodshot, breathing heavily- wildly, like he’s a different person. エス　「げほっ……ぼ、僕に攻撃を……⁉　ま、まさか、ありえない……」 ES: Ack… You can attack me..!? T-there’s no way… ミコト　「ああああああっ！　クソ！　クソが！　いらつかせんな！！」 MIKOTO: Aaaaaah! Fuck! Fucker-! You’re so fucking annoying!! [T/N: MIKOTO’s accent has changed. Before, he was speaking in a typical, standard Japanese accent you’d hear from people in Tokyo (not Tokyo accent, just standard Japanese accent).] エス　「囚人から、看守への攻撃はできないはず！！」 ES: Prisoners shouldn’t be able to attack the Warden!! ミコト　「うるっせえんだよ、てめぇ！！」 MIKOTO: Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!! エスを思いきり踏みつけるミコト。 MIKOTO stomps down on ES with all his might. エス　「うあっ！ぐっ………！」 ES: Augh-! Guh…! ミコト　「ゴチャゴチャ言ってっと、叩き殺してやるぞカスが！！」 MIKOTO: Yapping on and on and on- I’ll fucking beat you to death, piece of shit!! エス　「ぐっ……！ぐうっ……！！」 ES: Ngh-…! Guh…!!

何度も何度も踏みつける。 Another stomp, then another. Again, and again, and again. ミコト　「だらだらだらだらぁ！ガキのくせに偉そうに！ざまあねえぜクソがっ！」 MIKOTO: Going on and on and on-! Acting all high and mighty like you aren’t just a kid! Serves you fuckin’ right-! エス　「…っ……ろよ……」 ES: …re..member… ミコト　「はあ！？　聞こえねぇんだよ！てめえただのガキじゃねぇか、ザコが！！」 MIKOTO: Ha!? I can’t hear you! You’re nothing more than an unimportant brat, a fuckin’ nobody!! エス　「……覚えてろよ、ヒトゴロシが」 ES: …Remember…your murder… 傷つけられ、口や鼻から血を流すも目の光が消えないエス。ミコトをにらみつける。 Despite being injured and bleeding from the mouth, the light in ES’ eyes doesn’t disappear. They glare at MIKOTO. ミコト　「はぁー？　は、はは、ははははは。もっと痛いのが好みか」 MIKOTO: Ha-? Heh- Hahahahahahaha! You prefer it when it hurts more, huh? ミコト、転がっている椅子を持ち上げる。ゆっくりと頭上に。 MIKOTO picks up a chair laying around. Slowly raising it above his head. エス　「くっ……」 ES: Guh… ミコト　「いいぜ、顔面潰してやるよ……」 MIKOTO: That’s fine. I’ll crush your face in as much as you want… エス　「やって……みろよ……」 ES: …Go ahead… and try… ミコト　「望み通りやってやるよ！おああああああああああ！」 MIKOTO: As you wish! RAAAAAAAAARGHH! [T/N: The -やってやるよ (-yatte yaru yo) in 望み通りやってやるよ (nozomi doori yatte yaru yo) adds a cheeky nuance of “doing the action for the sake of fulfilling ES’ wish (“go ahead and try”)”.]

ミコトが椅子を振り下ろそうとした瞬間に、横から蹴りを入れられる。 The moment MIKOTO’s about to bring the chair down, a kick meets his side. コトコ　「ふん！」 KOTOKO: Hmph!

ミコト　「がっ！？」 MIKOTO: Gah-!? 椅子ごと大きな物音を立てて倒れるミコト。頭を抱えながらよろよろと起き上がる。 MIKOTO falls along with the chair, a loud noise emanating. He staggers up to his feet, clutching his head. ミコト　「……つ。あぁあー！なんだてめぇ！」 MIKOTO: …ugh. Aaargh-! What’s with you?! エス 　「！？お前……！」 ES: !? You…! コトコ　「命拾いしたわね、看守さん」 KOTOKO: Looks like you narrowly escaped death, Warden-san. [T/N: KOTOKO talks in a feminine way, as demarcated by her usage of わ (wa). Her mature feminine way of speaking is found all throughout all the VDs she’s featured in.] エス　「コトコ……何故……」 ES: Kotoko… Why… コトコ　「話はあと」 KOTOKO: I’ll tell you later. エス　「…⁈」 ES: …?! ミコト　「……どいつもこいつも……」 MIKOTO: …Each and every one of them… ミコトが飛びかかる。構えるコトコ。 MIKOTO launches himself at her. KOTOKO readies into stance. ミコト　「俺をいらつかせんなあああ！」 MIKOTO: YOU ALL PISS ME OOOOOOOFFF! [T/N: 俺 (ore) pronoun is spelled with kanji in John Doe. Whereas in Neoplasm, ore is spelled in katakana as オレ] コトコ　「……！」 KOTOKO: …! ミコトの大ぶりの拳を、最低限の動きでよけるコトコ。 KOTOKO dodges MIKOTO’s wide swing with minimal movement. ミコト　「くっ！おらあ！ちょこまかすんなあ！」 MIKOTO: Gah-! Fuck! Stop fuckin’ around with me! [T/N: It sounds like MIKOTO’s speaking in a Yonezawa dialect/accent. ちょこまか (chokko maka) is a phrase you’d typically hear from the Yonezawa dialect. Yonezawa is a city in the Yamagata prefecture, in the Tohoku region. In Neoplasm, MIKOTO speaks in Kanto region accent/dialect and Edo dialect/roughspeak. Meanwhile, in his Trial 3 voicelines, MIKOTO speaks with a Kansai region dialect in some lines. Insofar, as of Trial 3, it's possible that he's spoken in 4 dialects/accents.] コトコ　「はっ！ふっ！……典型的な素人の動きだけど」 KOTOKO: Hah-! Ngh-! …Seems as if it’s motions that a typical, ordinary person would make. ミコト　「だらあ！！！」 MIKOTO: SHUT IT!!! コトコ　「っ……！」 KOTOKO: Ngh…!

ミコトの蹴りを受けたコトコが圧力で後ろに下がる。 想像以上の威力に怪訝な顔。 KOTOKO staggers back from the force of MIKOTO’s kick. She seems perplexed by the power of the blow, which was greater than she could’ve expected. コトコ　「……この打撃の重さ。彼の筋肉量からは想像もつかない」 KOTOKO: I couldn’t have imagined that a strike with that amount of force could’ve come from someone with a muscle mass like his. [T/N: It's implied that MIKOTO lacks muscle mass which is why KOTOKO thought a strike with that amount of force was inconceivable/unthinkable. Also, the way KOTOKO is talking sounds like she’s verbally taking notes on MIKOTO’s behaviour/aptitude/and other information.] ミコト　「しつけぇ、しつけぇ……あああ」 MIKOTO: So fucking persistent, fucking annoying…  Aaargh!! コトコ　「長期戦はそこそこ面倒か」 KOTOKO: Drawn-out battles are rather troublesome. ミコト　「うああああああああ！」 MIKOTO: RAAAAAAAARGH! コトコ　「すう……」 KOTOKO: Sigh… 飛びかかってくるミコトに、コトコのハイキック一関。 MIKOTO leaps at her, but KOTOKO delivers a high kick. コトコ　「ふんっ！」 KOTOKO: Hmph-! ミコト　「がっ…」 MIKOTO: Gah-... エス　「……は、ハイキック一撃……」 ES: …Ha- Knocking him out in just one high kick… 糸が切れたようにドサッと倒れるミコト。 パンパンと手を払うコトコ。 MIKOTO falls with a thud, his body collapsing like a string cut in half. KOTOKO claps her hands. コトコ　「ふう……感謝して。気絶で済ませといたわよ。大丈夫？看守さん」 KOTOKO: Hah… Be grateful. It only required him losing consciousness in order to resolve the situation. Are you alright, Warden-san? エス　「……げほっ……コトコ……お前」 ES: …Cough…KOTOKO…You- コトコ　「なに」 KOTOKO: What? エス　「……尋問で招集が掛かる前に勝手に忍び込むとは……」 ES: …Did you sneak in as you pleased before the interrogation was even summoned…? コトコ　「は？まさか咎める気じゃないでしょうね。私が控えてなかったら死んでたのよ」 KOTOKO: Ha? You’re not trying to reproach me, are you? If I hadn’t been waiting—taking notes—, you would be dead. エス　「……何故、尋問室にいた」 ES: …Why were you in the interrogation room? コトコ　「カヤノミコトの奇妙な行動に注目していたから。隣の部屋だから目につくのよ」 KOTOKO: Because I’d been observing Mikoto Kayano’s odd behaviors. It’s all too noticeable since I’m in the room next door. エス　「……何故、僕を助けた」 ES: …Why did you help me? コトコ　「あなたの存在は私にとっても利があるから」 KOTOKO: Because your existence is beneficial to me as well. [T/N: KOTOKO is using あなた (anata) “you” which can imply a closeness or fondness. Alternative translation of this line: “Because your existence is advantageous to me as well.” 利 (ri) can mean “advantageous”, “beneficial”, “interest"] エス　「説明になって、ない……」 ES: That explains nothing… コトコ　「……そうね、そこら辺は私の番で答える。順番抜かしをするつもりはないから」 KOTOKO: …Is that so? I’ll answer that when it’s my turn. I don’t intend to cut in line. エス　「……」 ES: … コトコ　「郷に従うよ、今のところはね」 KOTOKO: In Rome, do as the Romans do. For now, that is. [T/N: 郷に従う (gou ni shitagau) means “in a place/social group, you should behave in accordance with the customs and traditions of that place/group, even if the values differ from your own”. It’s a clipping of the proverb 郷に入っては郷に従え (gou ni itte wa gou ni shitagae).]

問答がさっぱりとしているコトコ。エスはあきらめてよろよろ立ちあがる。 Questioning KOTOKO for answers was proving to be hopeless so ES gives up and staggers unto their feet. エス　「いっ………くそ、ミコト………好き勝手痛めつけてくれやがって……」 ES: Alri-... Dammit, MIKOTO…’s able to beat me up whenever it pleases him when he has the nerve to… コトコ　「……看守さん、こっち見て」 KOTOKO: …Warden-san, look over here. エス　「なんだ、コト……つ！」 ES: What is it, KOTO-?! エスが返事をすると、コトコの拳が目の前に。 As ES is responding, KOTOKO’s fist appears right in front of their face. コトコ　「ふーん、拳が途中で止まる。囚人からの攻撃は受け付けないってのは本当ね。じゃあなんでカヤノミコトはあなたを殴れるの？」 KOTOKO: Hm… Punches get stopped halfway through. It’s true that the Warden isn’t affected by attacks from prisoners so, how is it that Mikoto Kayano can hit you? [T/N: KOTOKO is translated here using the normal spelling for "Mikoto Kayano" rather than in all caps in order to translate over her objective way of speaking including her impartial observations. Writing the character names in all caps can submerge a character into a theatric-quality through its unconventional appearance as well as create a mental barrier that makes the character seem even more spectacle-like, more distant from reader/viewer. It's a way to translate over the vibes that the katakana spelling of the prisoners give.] エス　「……心臓に悪い……やめろ……だいたい僕が知りたいくらいだ、そんなの……」 ES: …This is bad for my heart… Stop… Anyway, I’d really like to know the answer to that… 突如部屋にある時計から鐘の音が鳴り、尋問室の部屋の構造が変化していく。 Suddenly, the bells within the clock in the room begin to ring and the layout of the interrogation room changes. エス　「くっ……時間だ。出ていけコトコ」 ES: Dammit- It’s time. Get out, KOTOKO. コトコ　「心象を歌と映像にするのね、私は見ちゃいけないわけ？」 KOTOKO: You’re turning mental images into songs and videos, and yet I’m not allowed to see it? [T/N: KOTOKO pronounces 私 as "atashi" which is a feminine way of identifying and referring to oneself.] エス　「認められない、出ていけ」 ES: I can’t allow it. Get out. コトコ　「……ふーん。それにしても面白いことになったわね」 KOTOKO: …I see. Even so, things have become quite interesting, don’t you think? エス　「コトコ？」 ES: KOTOKO? コトコ　「あなたもわかっているでしょう。先程の行動からカヤノミコトは解離性同一性障害、いわゆる二重人格の可能性がある。まあ、まだ虚言・芝居の可能性も捨てられないけど」 KOTOKO: You know that too, hm? Based on Mikoto Kayano’s behaviors just a moment ago, it’s possible that he may have dissociative identity disorder, or—as you might call it—“split personality disorder”. Well, you can’t rule out the possibility that he may be fabricating it or acting, though. [T/N: KOTOKO is using あなた (anata) “you” which can imply a closeness or fondness. Also, she uses formal vocabulary, which could be due to her being an observant and articulate character, and the language used in law school. 解離性同一性障害 (kairiseidou itsusei shougai) is the clinical term for “dissociative identity disorder”. Most people aren’t aware of the clinical term as medical vocabulary is notoriously difficult in Japanese. However, more people are aware of the term 多重人格 (tajuu jinkaku) “multiple personalities” or 二重人格 (nijuu jinkaku) which literally means “two-tiered personalities” or “split personality”; both terms are derogatory but understandable by the common, average person.] エス　「……」 ES: … コトコ　「ねぇ、どう思う？私は本物を見たことはないけれど、仮に彼が本物の多重人格者ならば別人格が兆した罪は、主人格が負うべきなのかしら」 KOTOKO: Hey, what do you think? I’ve never seen the real thing before, but if he is a real multiple personality disorder patient, should the main personality bear responsibility for the crimes that another personality cultivated? [T/N: Depending on the listener, Kotoko could be saying “should the main self-state bear responsibility for the crimes that another self-state cultivated?”  人格 (jinkaku) can mean “personality”, “self-state”, “personhood”, “individuality”, “character” etc. It all depends on context and how it’s interpreted by the listener. 主人格 (shu jinkaku) “main self-state” can also mean “false front self-state".]

エス　「コトコ！」 ES: KOTOKO! コトコ　「……」 KOTOKO: … エス　「それを考えるのは僕の仕事だ、囚人の、お前の仕事ではない。それが真実か、それが罪かどうかも含めて、僕とミルグラムだけに判断する権利がある」 ES: That’s my job to think about- Not the prisoners, not yours. Only myself and MILGRAM have the right to judge whether to include it as a crime and whether it’s true or not. コトコ　「……ふふふ、はいはい」 KOTOKO: …Heh, haha. Of course, of course. [T/N: Down to the way she laughs, KOTOKO gives the vibes of a mature woman and femininity. ふふふ (fufufu) way of laughing is usually attributed to mature women.] 不気味な笑いを浮かべながら、尋問室をあとにするコトコ。 KOTOKO starts to leave the interrogation room, an ominous smile on her face. コトコ　「いいわ、任せる。じゃあ私はこれで」 KOTOKO: Okay then, I’ll leave it to you. Alright, that’s it for me then エス　「おい」 ES: Oi. コトコ　「なに？」 KOTOKO: What is it? エス　「……助けてくれて、ありがとう」 ES: …Thank you for helping me. [T/N: This may be the first time in this voice drama, or in all the Trial 1 voice dramas, in which ES actually speaks in a bit more formal and humble way rather than their rather casual, informal way (somewhat haughty) of speaking despite using formal vocabulary. 助けてくれて、ありがとう (tasukete kurete arigatou) literally means “Thanks for giving me the favor of helping me.”] コトコ　「どういたしまして」 KOTOKO: You’re welcome. コトコの背中を見送り、寝ているミコトに向き直るエス。 ES sees KOTOKO off and turns to face the sleeping MIKOTO. エス　「……ふう。わけのわからないことばかりだ……だが、仕事はしなければならないな」 ES: Hah… There’s so much I don’t understand about this… But, I have to do my job anyway. 思い切りミコトを踏みつけるエス。 飛び起きるミコト。 ES stomps MIKOTO with all their might. MIKOTO jumps to his feet. エス 　「……ふん！」 ES: …Hgh! ミコト　「いってぇ！」 MIKOTO: Ow! 状況のつかめていないミコトを、怪訝な顔で見つめるエス。 ES watches MIKOTO—who isn’t grasping nor understanding the current state of affairs—with a wary expression. エス　「...」 ES: … ミコト　「何、何すんの看守くん！？なんで僕いつのまに、あっ…なんだこれ、頭いてえ……」 MIKOTO: What- What are you doing, Warden-kun? Without even noticing, why did I end u- Argh-... wha- what’s this? My head hurts... [T/N: MIKOTO is referring to himself with the kanji version of 僕 (boku) again.] エス　「……だろうな」 ES: …So it seems. ミコト　「うー…….て、てか！看守くんも傷だらけじゃん！？どうした？何があったの？」 MIKOTO: Eugh… Wait! Warden-kun’s also covered in bruises!? How’d that happen? What happened? エス 　「……何も覚えてないんだな」 ES: …you don’t remember anything, huh. ミコト　「え、何、なんのこと………」 MIKOTO: Eh? What- What are you talking about… エス　「さんざん散らかしておいて、なんとも腹の立つ……だが、いいだろう。その態度、挑戦状と受け取ったよ」 ES: [Saying and acting like that] after making such a mess, it makes my blood boil… But, fine. I’ll take that attitude as a challenge. 口元から流れる血を拭い、ニヤリと笑う。 ES wipes the blood from their mouth and grins. エス　「お前からなのか、もしくはお前以外の誰かからなのかは、知らんがな」 ES: I have no idea whether that attitude is coming from you… or someone apart from you. [T/N: There is really good wordplay here. 以外 (igai) means “apart from” and has a nuance of outsiderness; exclusion/exception as in being outside of a boundary.  お前以外の誰か (omae igai no dareka) quite literally means “apart from you’s someone”. Since the の (no) is a possessive particle that means “of”, AのB would mean “A’s B”. In English, this clause would be more like “[a someone] [that comes from] [something that is outside of you]”. When ES says “someone apart from you”, they’re implying “an outsider that comes from within you; a someone that isn't you but comes from you"] ミコト　「だ、だから、なんのこと！？」 MIKOTO: S- Seriously, what are you talking about!? エス　「囚人番号9番、ミコト。さあ。お前の罪を歌え」 ES: Prisoner number 9, MIKOTO. Come. Sing your sins.

[macfrog]

checkmate cowboy like me chapter nine

hi sorry it’s late please don’t hate me 🥲 would just like to note- reader's pasta is gluten free, alright? i have had too many gluten-induced traumas to write about it anymore. she is a gluten free queen. thanks parts 1-8 on my masterlist here, n my ao3 here. love u all the most!!!

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel steals you away during a family meal to give you a telling off...in the form of a quickie

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) pining reader, bratty reader, brat tamer joel, spanking, oral (m receiving), face fucking, dom!joel, orgasm denial, theft of underwear, loose mention of someone cheating, alcohol, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, marty robbins

word count: 8.1k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.” You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.” He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again. “Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.

The water dances to-and-fro, kissing the lip of the pool and splashing onto the concrete at your feet. It’s windier than normal today, trees whispering overhead, breeze taking your hair and lightly tossing it around.

You’re sat out back on a lounger, waiting for Joel to come pick you up. Joel and Sarah, that is. Picking you and your dad up. Be nice if it were just Joel, wouldn’t it? You and him, alone together again. Out on a date, or even just following him around, side by side in his truck as he goes about his day. His hand on your thigh, pretending to roll his eyes at your music choice.

As if that would ever happen. As if that could ever happen.

He and your dad have organized some dinner to celebrate yours and Sarah’s return home; some hotel resort with a restaurant looking out over the river. Your dad couldn’t remember the name of it. Said it was all Joel doing the booking.

You can still fucking hear him. Your dad. His voice lulls through the open kitchen window, the wind carrying it to your ears almost comically. You wish you could bat it away. He’s had the same Marty Robbins song stuck in his head all morning. You’d finally reached breaking point when he’d graduated from just humming it to full-volume singing, even doing his own impression of the guitar.

And now it seems that sneaking out to the backyard hadn’t rid you of the damn song either, no matter how loud the trees may be rustling.

Joel said he’d be here by now – he’s late. You slink off to the back gate to slip out front and wait for him there. And maybe also to escape your dad’s voice. No offense to the guy.

A couple minutes to six, his truck pulls up by the curb you’re perched on. Sarah climbs over the front seat to the back, and you join her.

She scoffs when you slam the door shut. “You’re eager.”

You shake your head in response, warning her with a roll of your eyes not to ask. She gives you an understanding nod and your eyes turn to Joel.

“You’re late.”

He looks back at you in the rearview mirror. “Not my fault. Traffic. We left twenty minutes ago, didn’t we?”

Sarah’s lip curls. She shrugs a little. You know he’s telling the truth.

When you turn back, Joel’s eyes are still on you, expression a little softer. A greeting. Making up for the fact he can’t wrap his arms around you, pinch your nose affectionately, kiss you to say hello. You smile back at him.

“That watch a’ yours runnin’ slow, Miller?”

Your dad’s voice is like a fucking foghorn. Sarah covers her mouth to stop a laugh from escaping her lips. He sweeps down the driveway toward the truck and you lean back in your seat. Quiet moment ruined.

Joel lightly chuckles and then gives you one last hazardous glance in the mirror before pulling off, ignoring your dad’s teasing. Probably for your benefit.

The relief of a quiet journey doesn’t last long, though. Barely five minutes in, your dad picks up the humming again.

“Dude,” you groan, “will you quit that? For the love of God.”

“It’s stuck in my damn head,” he chuckles, arms crossing defensively.

You roll your eyes again. “So your plan is to plague us all with it, too?”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s he singin’?” Sarah asks, leaning forward.

“Marty Robbins. Old song.” The lack of tone in Joel’s voice and the quick shake of his head as he says it tells you he ain’t the biggest Marty Robbins fan either. A voice inside you thanks God, like it even matters what music he’s into.

“Never heard of ‘im.”

“Lucky you,” you breathe, and your dad holds up a finger over his shoulder.

“Heard that,” he says.

“’s why I said it.”

Joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh. “You’re in a real mood today, aren’t you?”

Your head falls against the window, bumping along with the road as Joel drives.

“Hold up a second,” your dad rounds on him, “you ain’t showin’ your kid real music, are you? She doesn’t even know Marty Robbins.”

“I ain’t puttin’ her through the pain of knowin’ him.”

A smile forms across your lips. Just another thing you two agree on. Another little string connecting you both, separating you from the rest.

You almost snort at yourself. Counting strings.

Sarah interrupts your train of thought when she requests the radio be put on. Joel turns the dial up and she sits back, victorious. You stifle a laugh. But even Taylor Swift doesn’t fully drown out your dad’s voice – she sure doesn’t stop the way he bobs his head as he sings to himself. It’s helpful, all the same.

You and Joel have been quite literally counting down the hours until you’re alone together. Alone for a whole weekend. Each morning, you’ll text him to announce it’s one less day. And he’ll reply some witty comment, some crude joke, or else a thumbs up emoji which usually meant he was working, or had company and couldn’t text. Company meaning eagle-eyed Sarah.

It’s been almost a whole week since the last time you had uninterrupted, unsupervised time with him. When you could link your arms around him, feel his head lean down on top of yours, say things without threat of anyone else hearing.

Seeing him there in the front seat, inches away from you, and not being able to touch him or even talk much to him, feels like a form of torture. Makes you curse your dad ‘n his tone-deaf singing all the more.

You’re supposed to be meeting Sam and Anna and a couple others from work at Frank’s, Saturday night, 8PM sharp. Rodeo night. Your dad’s leaving for Fort Worth in the late afternoon, he said. You’d kinda sulked when he told you, realizing that left a tiny window of time you could see Joel that day.

And then he told you he’d text Joel to ask if he’d be around to pick you up from Frank’s if you needed him, and you chirped up.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be really good. Can you ask him to?”

“He said just to text you if you need ‘im, hon.”

“Cool, I will. I mean, I will if I need him. Thanks, Dad.”

If you need him. If. Just on the off-chance, right?

The thought draws a smile across your face. You reckon his presence will be very, very needed this weekend.

Soon enough, the truck pulls in to some ornamented, fountain-guarded resort, bursting with greenery and flowers, paved in pristine sandstone. A red canopy over the entrance, golden letters spelling out Hillcrest.

“Damn…” Sarah leans over into your space to get a glimpse of the building from your window. “This is so fancy.”

“You treatin’ us or somethin’, son?” your dad asks Joel.

He doesn’t reply. But his eyes flit up to meet yours, then back to the road ahead. In a one-second look, you understand.

Sarah’s still staring outside, mouth wide open, blinking eyes taking everything in. “Dad, what the f…”

“Language,” Joel clips.

You smirk. It’s funny, hearing the man who’s whispered far worse things – filthy things – to you in earshot of company, chastise his nineteen-year-old for cursing.

The four of you roll by the water feature – three robed women made of stone pouring water from vases into a pool at their feet – and park up. As you hop out, a woman in a silk dress struts by, floppy sunhat bouncing with each step she takes.

Joel meets you at the back of the truck, letting Sarah and your dad stroll off ahead. They’re busy pointing at different features of the lavish hotel – the purple-uniformed bellboys running in and out of the lobby, the glimmering revolving door, the guests eating on balconies overhead.

“You outta that mood yet?” he asks, and you snap out of your daze.

“Not in a mood,” you reply bluntly, eyes still ahead.

“Huh.” He nods, unconvinced. “Marty Robbins gettin’ to ya that much, is he?”

“Marty Robbins ain’t the problem.”

“No? What is it, then?”

His hand finds the small of your back. It straightens you up like a shot of fire through your spine.

“Not a what. A who.”

You lead him inside.

A man in a pressed white shirt greets you all at the entrance to the restaurant.

“Reservation for Miller,” Joel says, and the man nods curtly and darts off into the sea of tables.

Sarah skips off with your dad on her arm, the two of them fucking ecstatic to be somewhere so fancy and fun. You and Joel amble through, past wine coolers, dodging fleeing waiters, slipping between white-cloth tables and silver spoon diners. His hand never leaves the skin between your shoulder blades, red hot on your goosebumped skin.

You’re seated at a table by the window, overlooking the river. Joel sits opposite you, your dad by his side. Sarah nudges your elbow and holds her phone up, snapping a selfie of you both with the glimmering water in the background. She tags the location and adds text below: fine dining. Her thumbs search for emojis, picking two champagne glasses, some sparkles, and a pink heart. Then she swaps the heart for a smiley face, and tilts the phone to you, wordlessly asking for your approval.

“Cute,” you tell her, and she beams, hittingpost.

The server returns, hands out menus, leaves a jug of ice water and some fancy bottle of wine you’ve never heard of by the table, and then nods his head once again before he rushes off. Your dad salutes him as he goes. You cringe.

“Boy’s gonna take a damn heart attack,” Joel mutters, watching your dad lift the wine from its bucket.

Sarah’s watching, too. She looks from the bottle of wine over to Joel, eyebrows raised. He flatly tells her, “No.”

“Come on,” she protests, “it’s not like anybody here knows what age I am.”

“We know.”

“Dad, I–”

“Water, or nothin’.”

Her eyes dagger into his. “You ain’t exactly a stickler for the rules yourself,” she breathes, sliding the jug across the table, and you scoff.

You’ve seen her do worse on her Instagram stories, and the way she glares at you warns you not to open your mouth. If Joel’s this pressed about some wine with a meal, it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t have a social media account.

“Let’s toast,” your dad announces as he pours wine into three of the glasses, “to…to you girls bein’ back home…” He raises his wine and Sarah lifts her little water, lemon slice floating on top. “…and to a fun summer ahead. Hm?”

You and Joel both hesitate a little before lifting your drinks, clinking them softly against each other with a glint in your eyes.

A fun summer. Sure. You’re certainly having fun. Yeah.

You watch Joel as you take a sip, frowning at the bitter taste. His mouth twists just like yours, neck winces as he swallows. Then he promptly slides his glass along the table back to your dad, clearing his throat and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“No?” you ask, amused.

“Not my thing.”

You tilt your head. “Maybe they have Bud at the bar.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that?”

You flash a proud grin at him. The denim of his jeans brushes against your ankles. Your dad takes Sarah up in conversation. No one would see if you just…

Under the long white tablecloth, you nudge open his calves and slot your feet between them. Joel’s boots close at the back of your legs, holding you to him. Holding you against him.

It feels…nice. It’s almost normal. Like something a real couple would do. Not a pair of hopeful idiots wrapped up too tight in some clandestine affair. You almost feel like you could reach for his hand, and you’re willing to bet that if it weren’t for your company, he’d let you take it. Let you part his fingers with yours. Let you run a light touch over his knuckles.

When you finally look up at Joel, he’s looking right back. Watching you. Reading your mind.

You avert your gaze, reaching to pour a glass of water.

A few quiet minutes pass while the table studies the menu. You’re still looking around, taking in your surroundings. The more you look, the more you notice. Velvet drapes framing tall Palladian windows. A man nervously checking his blazer pocket while his girlfriend’s at the bathroom. Joel’s legs give yours a wiggle and you’re drawn away from the pocket square and slicked-back hair.

He smiles affectionately. Asks in his eyes if you’re okay. Your shoulders meet your jaw with the inhale you take, and then you nod. Imperceptible. Some dumb smile across your lips that mirrors his. Like you really are on your own or something. It’s stupid.

“Reckon I’ll have the steak,” your dad says.

Joel hums in agreement, nodding.

Sarah orders a Caesar salad and you decide on the fettuccine Alfredo. The nodding waiter snaps his little black book shut and collects your menus, before disappearing again. Conversation flows across the table naturally: your dad’s big client, Joel’s working week, Sarah’s sophomore year. Of course, the Rangers are mentioned once or twice.

Your wrist is shaking your glass, watching as the water swirls around inside. The thought turns over much the same in your head. A question for Joel. When your food arrives and the chatter lulls, you brave up enough to ask it.

“You think I’m…brighter…here?”

He smiles, a little confused. “Brighter?”

“Aw, kiddo.” Your dad shakes his head, knife tearing into his steak. “I knew you’d take that to heart.”

Joel’s still looking at you. Concerned.

Sarah elbows you. “What’s that mean?”

Your dad sighs. “Bill told ‘er on Sunday she used to be miserable whenever she came home. Said that this time ‘round she looks…”

“…brighter.” You lift your hands to form air quotes around the word, pasta wrapped around the fork between your fingers.

Joel’s expression relaxes, his smile grows. “’cause of anything in particular, or…?”

You instantly regret bringing it up. He’s a dick. Has to ruin every sweet moment with a smug smirk and testosterone-induced impulses, doesn’t he?

You mock smile back and shake your head.

“Y’know what I think it is?” your dad says, and Joel finally turns to him. He nods at you and Sarah. “The pair of ‘em. Back home like old times. How long has it been since the four of us were out doin’ stuff together?”

You and Sarah exchange a sideways glance.

“I’m serious!” he says, waving his hands. Cutlery almost flying out of his grip. “It’s nice. Joel, back me up.”

Joel’s sat back in his chair, midway through cutting his steak, watching this show unfold. He clears his throat and offers, “Yeah. Real nice.”

Your dad looks defeated. He retires from the conversation, focusing on the meal in front of him.

“What are you guys gonna do all weekend without us?” Sarah asks, shoving a forkful of salad in her mouth.

“I, uh…keep forgetting y’all are goin’ away,” you lie, staring down at your pasta.

Joel clears his throat again. “This guy at work was showin’ me these videos of folks playin’ chess – did you know there are these…leagues, for chess? Professional leagues ‘n competitions. They win money, good money, for playin’ chess.”

Sarah, like everybody at the table, is quiet for a few seconds. “Is…is this your way of sayin’ y’all are gonna…play chess?”

You’re staring at Joel, amused and yet a tad embarrassed. The dude you’re sleeping with just went on a ramble about chess.

You twirl your fork in your hand before taking another bite. “I’ve never played chess. Maybe you’ll have to play it alone.”

Joel narrows his eyes. “Don’t think you can,” he says, gritting his teeth, “it’s a two-player game.”

“Nah,” Sarah chimes in. “A guy in my Physiology class plays against himself to practice. He’s pretty good, I think.”

Your head nods toward her, eyebrows raised at Joel. He’s grimacing back.

“He always goes on about speed, says it’s all about playin’ fast so your opponent ain’t got time to think. Quick hands, he says.”

Your brows arch, lips petted. Poor Joel. “Aw. Looks like you’ll be playin’ with yourself.”

His brows angle and you notice a twisted smile on his lips. Pissed – sort of aroused, but pissed. You lift your legs from between his. He holds onto your ankles with his own for a second, forcing you to stare at him, before he frees you. You tuck your legs under your chair.

Just then, Sarah’s phone vibrates on the wooden table.

“Oh, shoot, two seconds. Hello?” She screws her face up. “Are you kidding me? No way. No, I don’t– You– Kels, can I call you back in, like, an hour or something? I’ll call you back, I’m just at dinner with my dad and my…No, I’ll literally be, like– Alright. Lemme call you back. Okay.”

She hangs up and swivels in her seat to you.

“You know Kels? Kelly Ramirez?”

You draw a blank. Push your bottom lip out. “Should I know a Kelly Ramirez?”

“She played soccer with me in high school? Remember, that game you came to,” Sarah leans in, knocking your arm with the back of her hand as if giving your memory a swift kick, “she played in goal to fill in for Stephanie, and broke her ankle tryna save Amber Murphy’s shot? Passed out from the pain?”

Nothing. You shake your head.

She huffs. “Coach Lee had to drive her to the emergency room and it’s all she went on about for weeks.”

“Oh!” The penny drops. “That was her? Didn’t she carve his initials into the girls’ room stalls?”

Your dad and Joel exchange a bewildered and, quite frankly, weary glance. Sarah shuts her eyes and nods, ashamed.

“That’s her.”

“Wow. I wonder if he knew how bad her crush was…” you muse, choking back a laugh when Sarah gives you a dead-eyed stare.

“He would have,” Joel says flatly, and you both shoot him a look. “Girls ain’t good at hidin’ that sorta stuff.”

“Oh, like you’ve ever had anyone have a crush on you.” Sarah bats her hand at him and then her fingers lock around your wrist. “Anyway…”

You can see Joel’s grin from your peripheral. He gives your sneaker a tap with his boot under the table, and you feel your cheeks start to heat. You move your leg.

“…she’s just caught her boyfriend cheatin’.”

“Who has?”

Sarah huffs. “Kelly Ramirez! For cryin’ out loud, are– are you even listenin’ to me?”

“I was caught up in the Coach Lee stuff. Right. No, I’m with you now. Is she okay?”

“She suspected it for weeks. He kept cancelling plans last minute, kept coming up with dumb excuses. We were all tryna tell her, just ask ‘im. Ask him or find out for yourself. So, she did. Checked his phone and found all these messages between him ‘n some girl from college.”

“How’d she hack into his phone?” your dad asks.

Joel, head now resting against his fingers, draws him a look: Really?

“She didn’t,” Sarah tells him. “She knows his passcode. Used it to get in, I guess.”

Your dad nods, taking note, eyes narrowing. He looks over to Joel, then you. These kids and their technology, you imagine him thinking. But he’s staring a fraction too long. You shift in your seat. Give him a comical shrug – Don’t ask me – and he eventually looks away.

The rest of dinner passes smoothly – Sarah picking up her phone, rattling a message into it with her thumbs, and then dropping it back down onto the table. Your dad, battling his steak, asking Joel what he thinks of the Rangers’ chances against the Astros tonight, and Joel…well, Joel not taking his attention off of you for one second.

He’s answering your dad, saying all the right things at the right times, but anytime his eyes lift off of his plate, they land on you. Your arm, draped on the tablecloth. Your hand, moving pasta around your dish with your fork. Your eyes, flitting between the view outside to that inside.

You can see him the entire time. Watching you. You’re not fucking blind. If Sarah didn’t have Kelly Ramirez spamming her phone with cheating boyfriend updates, she’d probably be commenting on it. Did she grow a second head, or somethin’? she’d quip.

But you never look back. Not once. Just let him observe you, let him wait for a glance or a kick of the foot that never comes.

You’re leant back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, when the waiter clears your table. Watching some couple wander off down the riverside path. She’s wearing a white sundress that dances around her calves with each slow step she takes. He’s in a plain black tee, tan arm around her back. Looking around at the view, taking it all in.

Then she turns on her heel to him. He lifts a hand to move her long, dark braids from her face, drops it to cup her jaw. Pulls her in to him, presses his lips to hers. Her hands are linked at his spine. Like they’re the only two people in the world.

There’s a feeling in the depths of your chest. A throb. Uncomfortable. Maybe even painful. You shift in your seat to move it, but it doesn’t budge. Your gaze falls, travelling along the window frame, onto the white cloth and to Joel’s elbow. Up his arm, across his shoulder.

You reach his jaw and look away. He’s watching everything.

“Alright,” your dad’s hands slap down on his thighs, “we good to go?”

“You go on,” Joel tells him. “I’ll get the bill.”

“Absolutely not, bud,” your dad protests. You and Sarah both lean back in your chairs at the same time. May as well get comfortable, we could be here a while.

“I got it,” Joel says, almost annoyed, getting up to stand. Your dad follows suit. Joel holds a hand out. “I’m sure you’ll repay me somehow. Hey, I got that job in a couple weeks I said I might need you for. Help me out and we’re even.”

Your dad’s hands are on his hips. “I ain’t happy about this, Joel.”

“Stick,” Joel mutters. “I’m sure I’ve done worse that you’ve forgiven me for.”

His eyes finally find yours and your cheeks flush. He covers it by gesturing to you to stand up with a snap of his head.

Why was that hot? Is it…weird…? That that was hot? All he did was nod his head.

You stand – Sarah copies you, sliding her chair under the table. Joel pushes yours in for you. His hand’s on your back again, fingers drawing circles. The four of you are walking toward the exit. Your dad’s still murmuring about owing money.

“Hey,” Sarah calls, pointing, “this place has an outdoor bar. Let’s go check it out.”

Your head’s beginning to dizzy. Why is your head dizzying?

Stick.

The way he pointed, flicked his head toward the door. Knowing you’d just fucking obey him. And you did.

Yep. That was hot. Hot enough that it restarts something in you; something deep down begins to wind. An idea sweeps across your mind.

Sunlight bursts through the French doors up ahead, golden rays flooding in through the glass panes. Joel stoops his head as he wanders through, dodging ivy draped around the doorway. On the other side, drowned in daylight, a paved courtyard.

There are tables and chairs dotted around. Benches in front of flowerbeds. More random statues – a cherub, a rearing horse. Wooden planters with vines growing toward the sky. Another slightly smaller fountain in the middle.

This…is fucking insane. Last night for dinner you ate leftover Chinese food ‘cause your dad was working late. Tonight, you’re strolling through a five-star hotel garden after the best fettucine of your life.

Ahead of you and Joel, your dad nudges Sarah and comically offers her his arm, elbow outstretched. She nods graciously and links her arm in his, and they saunter off, chins up, dumb grins across their faces.

Joel scoffs. Your lips tug a little, chest still tight. Body still tense. And he senses it.

“What?”

You shake your head. “Nothin’. Just…taking in the view.”

“’s nice, ain’t it?”

“Mhm,” you admit. “Word on the street is it was all your idea.”

“Wanted somewhere nice for you. For both of you. Didn’t know it would be this nice, but…it’s what you deserve.”

Your eyelashes flutter, blinking rapidly to conceal the look in your eye. The look that says…something dangerous. You betray the thoughts circling around your head and press your lips together in a tight smile. “Thanks,” is all you can muster the strength to say.

Joel looks forward; your dad and Sarah are strides ahead, still gawking at the garden, chatting, snapping photos.

“It improve your mood any?”

“I already told you, I ain’t in a mood.”

“That why you couldn’t look at me at dinner?”

It stops you in your tracks. You glare at him. Almost about to punch him out of frustration, right before you catch yourself and your expression softens.

“Did you want me to look at you?” you coo, leaning in a little. Your hands rest on his forearms.

Joel tenses. Opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. But you want him to fucking say it. So, you push further.

“What we were doin’ under the table wasn’t enough? Poor baby. Guess you just wanted more of my attention, huh?”

His expression doesn’t change. Lips barely move when he utters, “Thin ice, kid.”

You shrug. “I’m not the one begging you to look at me.”

He swallows. His eyes are staring you down, huge, glowing warm in the evening sunlight. There’s so much energy thrumming around your body that you feel almost faint, like your knees could give. Just swoon, fall into his arms.

“I’m bored,” you back up, turning back to the hotel, “going to the bathroom.”

You’re gone before he can react. Taking off for the doors, stumbling out of the sun and into the cool restaurant, catching your breath when you’re safely in the shade.

You approach the bar – a deep, shiny mahogany, wine glasses hanging from above, glistening footrail at the bottom. Intricately carved, varnished and smooth. Bottles of spirits and ales and wines decorate the back wall, lined up on shelves against a glimmering mirror.

Two girls in black polo shirts stand, elbows leaning against the back shelf.

“I served a duck the other night,” one of them says to the other. She has short brown hair, freckles painted across her nose. A tattoo down her right arm. She twirls a pen between her fingers as she speaks.

“A duck?” The second girl screws her face up.

“Yep. When I gave him the check, he told me to put it on his bill.”

The second girl snorts. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, excuse me?” you call over, and the girl with the tattoo steps forward, still laughing. “Where are the restrooms?”

“Upstairs,” she nods to the doors by your side, “they’re on the right.”

You nod in thanks and she twirls the pen again, resuming position.

The bathroom is freezing cold when you burst into it, almost panting, and stumble across to the sink. Your palms plant firmly on the marble countertop, head falling limp between your shoulders. When you look up to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a laugh passes your lips.

You look…flustered. Bothered. You’re not sure if Joel noticed it. You were too busy trying to conceal it to gauge whether he’d caught on.

What the fuck is he doing to you? More importantly, how is he doing it to you? Can you seriously not go a couple days without him? Need, want, desire. Everything he causes, only he can fix.

But then, he never can fucking fix it. There’s always something or someone in the way. And you swear Joel gets off on it – watching you need him, miss him, pine for him, and knowing he won’t be able to relieve it.

Staring at yourself, you start to feel that energy charging up again. Heat pooling between your legs, blood drumming through your veins. What the fuck is he doing to me? Nothing, he’s not doin’ nothing.

Nothing I can’t do right back to him.

You push yourself off of the sink and shoot one last glance in the mirror, giving your reflection an affirming nod before striding over to the door. It swings shut behind you as you pace down the hall, feeling a lot more steel and a lot less sweet.

As you round the corner to head downstairs, a familiar shadow stalks up the last two steps and bursts into the hallway. Without a word, his arm hooks around yours and he drags you back the way you came.

“Joel– What the fuck are you doin’–?”

He passes by the restrooms and onto a plush red carpet. In a blur, he flings open the first door in sight and throws you inside, ignoring your gasps.

He slams the door shut, whipping you around to shove you against it. From over his shoulder, you notice your surroundings. A bed over by the window, pristine white sheets tucked perfectly under the mattress. Nightstands spotless, desk against the wall topped with a tray holding a bottle of wine and a tiny card that reads Welcome to the Hillcrest.

You’re in one of the hotel’s rooms. One of the hotel’s empty rooms.

Of course it’s empty. It’s like he fucking planned it.

“Alright. A hotel room. Did you book it, at least?”

“Naw,” his eyes scan you up and down, “I didn’t fuckin’ book it.”

“So…what are we doing in here?”

Joel’s pressing against you, forcing you up against the wooden door. Caging you against it with the weight of his body. Clearly, in the time you spent giving yourself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, Joel was doing the exact same downstairs. The fucker.

“Said you were bored. ‘n that’s a real shame, given I just took you to dinner. Ain’t no pleasin’ you, is there?”

Your head rolls back against the door with a laugh. “That really got to you? So, what, now you’re gonna fuck me? Wine, dine, ‘n…yeah?”

Joel’s lips are tight, eyes staring you down. He’s seething. He’s turned on, and he’s seething. Exactly where you want him.

“You get sluttier every fuckin’ day, you know that?”

You nod, teeth taking your bottom lip. “You like it, though, huh?”

Joel doesn’t reply. You lean in closer to him.

“You like me bein’ a little slut,” you whisper, running a hand softly over his hard jeans, “just for you, don’t you?”

His voice lowers in response. “Not when I can’t do nothin’ about it.”

You pull back, cocking an eyebrow. Angle your head. “You’re the one who pulled me in here. It’s an empty hotel room, man. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

He glowers at you. His face rigid, one hand still locked around yours, almost assisting you in palming himself; the other above your head, flat against the door.

His head dips. Jaw lines with yours, breath against your ear.

“Whatever the fuck I want?”

“Mhm.” You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. Not that either of you care. Then you pause. “Oh! Wait.”

Joel lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. Looks like you just cut in front of some spiel he had planned.

Your cheeks swell. “Do you have a bottle?”

“A bottle?”

“Beer bottle. You need me to go grab one? What if they don’t have beer? It’s kind of a fancy place. Would wine work? Or is it only beer that gets you goin’–”

“Alright. Enough. Fuckin’ – brat.”

You cock your head, tongue in your cheek, pushing around the shape of your mouth. Keep going.

You spurt out a laugh. “I’m a brat?”

“Yep. Never do as you’re fuckin’ told.”

You lean in close, lips brushing off of his, so close you can taste him. Feel how tense his jaw is. Your voice is low, barely above a whisper.

“Then…make me.”

Joel’s still staring you down, watching you like a predator watches its prey. His eyes are so dark you can’t read the thoughts behind them, but the way his grip tightens on your wrist, so rough it feels like he’s fucking bruising you, the way he yanks you off of the door, tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“I ain’t got time for this,” he hisses, pulling you over to the bed.

You stagger behind him, still snickering. Joel sinks down into the mattress, thighs apart, pulling you to stand between them. You look him up and down once, smirking, his hands still roughly gripping yours. Then –

In one fluid movement, you’re over his knee. Thighs digging into your stomach, face hovering over the soft carpet. Your hands grip his calf to hold onto something – anything – as he pulls the hem of your dress up so roughly, you’re sure he’s ripped it.

“You want to act like a brat?” he asks, and you smile, feeling his hand run from the back of your knee up your thigh, coming to rest on your ass. “Get treated like one.”

The first time his huge palm slaps against your skin, your mind blanks. The sharp sting, Joel’s grunt as his hand comes down on you. The way your body jerks, and the whine you let slip as it does. The throb when he lifts his hand, the cold air hissing against your heated skin.

He’s fucking – he’s…He has you in an empty hotel room, door unlocked, entire lobby of people downstairs. Over his knee, skirt hiked to your waist, spanking you. Hard.

And then you realize. You fucking like this.

“Joel…” you moan, catching your breath when it comes back.

Another sharp sting.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop? You gonna stop bein’ a little brat?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, filthy grin on your lips.

“F-fuck no.”

He slaps you again. You whimper, wrapping your arms around his leg.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so. Can feel how wet you are for me.”

He curls a finger around the hem of your panties and drags them down your thighs, letting them drop off of your legs and to the floor while his fingers return between your legs, running up and down your slit. You whine.

“Such a pretty little mouth, huh? You were runnin’ it just a second ago. Where’d all your big talk go?”

You open your mouth to reply, barely even make a sound, and his palm smacks against your ass again. He’s not done.

“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t you?” he grunts, hand coming down on you again. “You remember that day I ran you home?”

You whimper in response – yeah, I remember.

“You ‘n me alone, you being a little fucking tease. Wanted to fuck you so badly, baby. Those tight little shorts you were in…fuck…”

“Why…didn’t…you…?” you whine, muffled into the denim of his jeans. “Would’ve…fuck…let you.”

“Yeah? You wanted me to, darlin’?”

“Wanted…you,” slap, “in the kitchen.”

You gasp when Joel’s grip becomes tighter around your waist, holding you still as his hand sears against your ass. Rougher. Harder. It turns you on more.

“Wanted you in my mouth.”

You swear his breath catches. Swear you can feel his hand hovering over you, almost ready to spank you again, but he pauses.

“That right, baby? In your mouth?”

You nod, unsure if he can even see you. And then you feel him bend, feel his fist in your hair, lifting your head until his lips are curled around the shell of your ear.

“You wanna show me what you woulda done?” he whispers, breath hot.

Your body’s still shaking, throbbing; you’re a sobbing mess, but still, you utter: “Yeah.”

Joel pulls you all the way off his lap then, widening his legs for you to sit between them.

“Gotta be quick, babygirl,” he tells you, pushing you by the shoulders down onto the carpet.

Your knees part to lower yourself closer to his crotch, fingers shakily fumbling with his zipper. Joel helps you, shifting his jeans until his cock springs free. He’s as hard as if you’d been playing with him this entire time, so hard you almost begin to drool at the sight of him.

He sighs shakily, hand leaning behind on the mattress to steady himself. “You’re gonna sit there like a good girl and make me cum, alright?”

You nod, eyes blown black with lust.

He grips the back of your head with one hand and guides his cock to your mouth with the other. You take his thick length in both hands, allowing a trail of spit to fall from your lips and cover his swollen tip, running down his shaft only to be collected and dragged back up by your fingers.

“Good girl,” Joel whispers, watching you. “Doin’ what I tell you, huh?”

A few strokes and his cock’s soaked. When his head lines up with your bottom lip and you open up wide, he pushes into your mouth, filling you up without stopping to let you catch your breath. You gag when he hits the back of your throat, and Joel groans.

“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.”

You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock.

“Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.”

He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again.

“Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.

“Yeah?” he bucks his hips up into your mouth. “You want ‘em to know? Why don’t I just take you downstairs right now, fuck you in front of everybody, huh? You like that?”

You whine, gasp something that sounds like a yes around his warm skin.

“Thought you would, fuckin’ dirty girl. Want everyone to see just how good you take me, hm? How fuckin’ wet you get for me?”

Your fingers reach for his balls, kneading them softly in your hands. Joel’s head tips back and he lets out a guttural groan.

“Look at you,” he purrs, “soakin’ wet all over the floor, lettin’ me fuck that pretty little mouth. Needed it bad, didn’t you?”

You follow the words he’s saying with your eyes, never taking your doe-eyed gaze off of him. He’s all you can see; the surrounding world blurred by lust and sex and by Joel.

“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he mutters.

You pull yourself off of him, disobeying his tight grip at the back of your head.

“Yeah?” you breathe, giving in to him. “Been thinkin’ about you, too.”

Joel almost looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. He’s never expecting any of what you say to come out of your mouth, is he?

Hell, you don’t expect half of what comes out of your fucking mouth these days.

You sink back down on him, eyes screwing shut with the feeling of him filling you up to the very bottom of your throat.

“So slutty, baby. You like that? Yeah?”

He’s speaking so soft but being so fucking rough, pushing you down onto his dick and then hauling you back off with a fistful of hair. His hips snap against your mouth and your hands leave his body to balance yourself on his thighs, stabilizing yourself with fingers through his loose belt loops.

You’re gagging on him, choking every time his salty head brushes against your throat, but Joel doesn’t stop. Each whimper, each muffled cry from you only pushes him closer, sends his head back in a wave of euphoria at the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth so good, the sounds of you choking on the size of him.

Your chin is soaked, dripping with spit and precum. Your cheeks dappled with tears. He doesn’t let up. You don’t fucking want him to. Your knees are slipping further apart, your cunt wetter than ever, dripping all over the plush carpet of the classiest hotel you’ve ever been in.

It’s fucking filthy, and you love every second of it.

Your lids grow heavy and you stare up at him, doused in rays from the window behind, blissed out on his body, him blissed out on yours, and you know he’s about to cum. His brows arch, his jaw falls slack. He’s focusing only on the feeling of your swollen lips around him, your throat contracting with each thrust of his hips.

He jerks, grunts out a, “Throat?”

“Uhuh,” you choke back, hands clamping around his thighs when he leans back.

One more jolt and he releases rope after rope of warm cum down you, painting the back of your throat and filling up your mouth. That all-too-familiar taste of Joel trickles all over your tongue.

He’s whispering, “Fuck, fuck, darlin’, fuck…” over and over, chanting your name, breathing curses and praises between.

When he stills and you feel him relax, your hands fall limp on your lap. You don’t move, not until Joel’s eyes flutter open and he slides his soft cock out of your mouth.

Your head rolls onto his thigh, eyes wide and soft as you gaze up at him. Equal parts enamored and painfully aroused.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he tells you. “Brats don’t get to fucking cum.”

There are words coming to your mind that you wouldn’t dare call him when he’s in this mood. Words you wouldn’t call him any other time, either, if it weren’t for the agonizing ache between your legs. This – fucking – guy.

You want to sob. Want to wrap yourself around his legs as he stands and beg him to throw you down on the bed, part your legs, use whatever the fuck he wants just to let you cum. Just to give you some release.

It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Dumb for this man.

He sits forward and tucks his limp cock back into his boxers, redoes his jeans. Then he leans down, scoops up your soaked panties and scrunches them in his fist. He slips them into his jeans pocket and, with a heaving sigh, pushes himself up from the bed.

You’re still squatted, knees apart, on the carpet. Arousal probably streaming out of you. Joel only lowers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you up to height. You still don’t believe he’s gonna let you walk out of here undealt with.

Until he wanders off toward the door, and there’s nothing left for you to do but follow.

Each step hurts, your thighs grazing against each other. Your naked cunt throbbing with every tiny movement.

Joel pauses at the door, turns the handle slowly, quietly, opening it just enough to poke his head and shoulders out, before beckoning you forward with a wave of his hand.

He blindly takes your wrist and leads you out of the room in a daze, letting the door close over as you both head back the way you came toward the staircase.

Under spotless chandeliers, past romantic paintings. Along the same plush carpet he’d shoved you along less than twenty minutes ago. Down the stairs, emerging at the bar, pair of you scanning the restaurant for your dad and Sarah. No sign of them.

“C’mon,” he nudges you, “still gotta get that bill.”

You stand by Joel’s side at the bar, catching a glimpse of the pair of you in the mirror opposite. Elbows touching, palms inches apart on the polished surface. Your heart swells to the point of almost hurting at the sight. The cover is back up, you’re back on planet earth; you’re nothing but a pair of acquaintances, friends at best.

Just a guy and his best bud’s daughter.

Joel’s tapping his credit card against the wood.

“What’s up?” you ask him.

“Hm?” he replies, eyes finding you, head still facing forward. Almost bracing for your dad’s appearance at any given moment.

“You’re being weird.”

“Ain’t being weird.”

“Still not gonna let me cum?”

He’s almost startled. You asked it quiet enough that nobody would’ve heard, if there were even anybody around you, but still. It feels like dangerous territory talking about it this out in the open.

“Nope,” he replies, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You know I’m gonna do it myself the second I get home, right?”

He shrugs. “You gonna call me?”

“Facetime you, if you want.”

His body goes rock solid. You knock into it, smirking. Before he can muster up a reply, the girl with the tattoo shows back up, smiling at Joel. He tells her the table number and she slides him the bill.

“How much is it?” you ask him.

He turns to look at you. “You won’t be findin’ out.”

You mock offense. A small part of you isn’t kidding. “’n why’s that?”

Joel ignores you. You twist over his arm to get a look and he bats you away, holding you at bay with his elbow while he places his card over the total amount and slides it back across the bar.

You admit defeat, though it kills you a little inside.

Joel does his little head nod again and you follow him to the exit. You walk out of the restaurant together, your chin as high as your shame will allow it, Joel’s parallel to his chest. Your dad’s stood against the truck deep in conversation with Sarah. Or, rather, Sarah’s deep in conversation at your dad.

“…so, she thought he was just textin’ his boys, but here she goes onto his Instagram messages, and it’s all these hearts, all these messages sayin’…”

“Where did you two get to?”

Joel opens the door for you silently, and you breathe a slightly awkward Thanks before climbing in.

Once he’s back in the front seat alongside your dad, he replies. “Charged me twice. Problem with the card reader.”

“I hope they apologized,” your dad says with a concerned tone. “Hope they ain’t tryin’ anythin’.”

“Nah,” Joel bats it away – unconvincingly. Or is that just because you know he just…you know.

Sarah’s still yapping – Kelly’s heartbroken, doesn’t know how she’s gonna go on. She – Sarah – is furious with Kelly’s boyfriend – ex-boyfriend? – his name is…Mike? Mick? Something beginning with M…Your ears are screaming.

“Happened to me once at a gas station. Charged twice for one tank a’ gas. I went back the next day ‘n asked the girl, she said she didn’t remember me. I showed her the bank statement, said, Why the hell would I need two tanks of gas for one vehicle? She had to call her manager. It was…insanity, Joel. You be careful.”

Joel’s pretending to listen, murmuring Right and Uhuh when appropriate, but he aims every second glance at you from the rearview mirror. You tug your skirt as far down your thighs as it’ll go, feeling exposed and guilty and ashamed and yet so fucking good all in one.

You can still taste him on your tongue. Your throat feels raw, your jaw sore. He knows it, from the looks he’s giving you in the mirror. It’s satisfaction, mixed with longing, mixed with guilt. Your underwear is in his front pocket. Your thighs clamp shut, feeling yourself seeping all over his backseat. One big, chaotic mess.

The car falls into silence, Sarah’s thumbs typing rapidly, Joel’s elbow propped against the window, cheek leaning on his knuckles. You lean your own head against the window, the engine drumming into your skull, the cold of the glass relieving your scorching skin. Your dad starts quietly singing again, and you wish you had the energy to put on a convincing voice to tell him to shut up.

“Maybe tomorrow a bullet may find me, tonight, nothing’s worse than this pain in my heart.”

----------

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[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: so, Maddie had still been alive. despite the happy news, there'd been a lot to digest. including and not limited to the tree Ajay had shown Wally, the barrier, and whether or not anyone could've gotten Mina to talk.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.23

A solemn, almost betrayed silence fell over the ghosts. Apart from Wally, that was, who'd already had a lesson on In Betweens and had accepted your theory about how not dead Maddie was. Even Maddie seemed reluctant to believe you, face pinching and posture shrinking.

"I don't understand." She whispered as she gazed hard at your outstretched hand. "What do you—I'm dead." She staggered back, out from under Wally's touch which resulted in you no longer being able to see her.

Talking to the air, you urged, "Please, Maddie, I'll explain, just...I need you to take my hand. You have to invite me in." You had no clue if she was still within reach, but you kept your hand up, desperate for her to open the door to her In Between and allow you in.

Wally took over, sensing your distress, "Mads, listen to her. She knows what she's talking about."

"Oh, and you know that after one day?" Rhonda sniped, giving Wally a nasty look. You didn't think it was because of you and Wally. It felt more general; probably a reaction to Maddie's aliveness. And after being dead and trapped in the place she'd been killed, no hope of escape for sixty years, you couldn't blame her.

Wally leveled Rhonda with a stern expression, "Yeah. I do." He shifted his gaze to where you assumed Maddie stood, softening, "Please, just try it." After a short beat, "What do you have to lose?" Another beat. Wally asked you, "Does she have to say anything?"

"She just has to vocalize that she's inviting me in." You said, hopeful.

He gave you a reassuring smile and nod, squeezed your waist before dropping his hand and stepping back. You immediately missed his warmth. The hard line of his body against your side. But that was soon enough rectified when you felt a delicate weight in your hand. Looking down, you saw Maddie's hand, up to her arm, to her shoulder, to her eyes where tears gathered.

"I invite you in." She said and her voice was so quiet you barely heard the words.

It didn't matter, your soul heard them. The Awen and the earth heard them. A slight tickling sensation zipped under your skin and settled in your palm where you and Maddie were connected. And that was it.

"Is...that it?" Ajay wondered, coming closer to inspect both you and Maddie, seeming somewhat let down by the lack of thunder and lightning. "That wasn't as...magical as I thought it was going to be."

Your face flattened, "It's not magic, it's connectedness." Gentler, to Maddie, "You can let go," and you opened your fingers.

She didn't. She tightened her grip and stared at you in a mixture of fear and hope. "How do you know I'm not dead?"

"Because I couldn't see you."

"So? Simon can't see us." Rhonda pointed out, appearing at Ajay's side as Charley came around and stood beside Maddie.

"But he can see her." You said, "Because they have a soul-tie." At everyone—but Wally's—perplexed looks, you expounded, "I can see dead people. I can't see alive people who Travel out of their bodies unless I share blood or a soul-tie with them."

"I'm not dead." Maddie murmured, stumbling back and collapsing to the ground on her ass. She stayed like that, gazing into the distance, completely silent for a long moment before she gasped in a thick breath and fell back, hands over her face. "I'm alive," She laughed wetly, and you weren't sure what to do.

Charley did. He went to her, plopped down beside her and gave her a small smile. As much as it seemed he wanted to sound positive, his tone was somber when he said, "You're alive."

You allowed them a moment to sit with it. Mostly for Maddie's sake. But you had something to say, something they needed to hear or you and they would all be in trouble.

"Guys. Look." You bit your lip, cast about warily for a moment as you gathered the confidence to set the one rule you needed followed. "I'm sorry I never tried to help before. I've known about you since I started here. So did my sister, my mom, my grandmother...my whole family." A tense yet tentative beat, "I should've tried to help sooner."

"But you didn't." Rhonda said unkindly, hip cocked and lips pursed.

You stared at the ground. Took a deep breath in, a sharp breath out, "No. I didn't. Because we're all bound to the same rule. And if anyone finds out that I'm doing this," You indicated to the situation in general, "My great-aunt or my mother will step in and...and you'll all be gone. And not the warm, fuzzy, go-into-the-light gone."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the loaded wake of your statement, Wally couldn't stand not touching you anymore. He shuffled forward and pulled you close, hands wandering down your back before he wrapped his arms securely around you.

He scanned his friends' faces. The assortment of reactions to the news of Maddie's situation as well as the unasked question you needed everyone to answer.

Rhonda was tight-jawed and struggling. Charley was lost in thought. Ajay was...Ajay. Controlled and reserved and taking it all in stride.

What broke the silence was Rhonda's biting, "Fine. I won't say anything. It's not like we aren't already keeping secrets." Simon, she didn't have to clarify. Another uncomfortable stretch of silence as Ajay and Charley nodded in agreement, then Rhonda said, "So cherrypop is alive," her bitterness blatant beneath the pragmatic tone she used. "Now what? Do you escort her out of here and back to her body?"

"I wish it was that easy." You admitted, brows furrowing. Wally placed a kiss to your hair and then repositioned so he was at your back, his hands on your hips. "Something is keeping you guys stuck here. The fact that you supposedly can't leave school grounds isn't normal. As ghosts, you should have a lot more agency than that. Like, way more than the living."

"And the plot thickens..." Rhonda muttered, the muscles in her jaw ticking as she ground her molars.

Charley and Maddie wore identical expressions of alarm. Recovering quicker, Maddie asked, "You're saying that someone is trapping ghosts here on purpose?"

"Seems that way, yeah."

"What about Mr. Anderson?" Wally could see the gears turning in Maddie's head, "Could he have done this somehow?"

"He wasn't around until ten years ago," Wally answered her, repeating what you'd said that morning, "He might've just taken advantage of the situation."

You nodded to confirm, "Simon and I definitely think he's got something to do with how Maddie was forced out of her body in the first place." Looking at Maddie, you said, "Simon told me about the phone call and the money in the supply closet. I'd hoped he'd be able to get something out of Anderson's phone but—"

"He stole Mr. Anderson's phone?" Maddie gawped, "Is that why the cops took him?"

"Possibly," You replied, "And now they're not even looking at Anderson because they think Simon had something to do with your disappearance."

Maddie's temper flared, "But he didn't!"

"I know that and you know that, which is why I'm here. We have to find something that'll make the cops take Anderson in."

"Everyone here in favor of checking the theater?" Wally asked since you'd been hellbent on going there when you'd arrived, and Maddie had done her own recon earlier. "He went nuts on babygirl last night when she and I were in there."

Rhonda studied Wally briefly, her dark eyes drilling into him, "So that's where you went after supper."

"Yeah," Wally cleared his throat, "We wanted to talk about Maddie and stuff." He could feel the blush on his cheeks, pressed his lips together sheepishly and avoided Rhonda's gaze.

Rhonda gave Wally a look of sardonic glee, "You didn't get a lot of talking done, did you?"

"Shut up." Wally grumbled while Charley unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh behind his fist. Attempting to bring the focus back to what was important, Wally said, "So. Theater? Yes, no?"

Maddie sighed as she got to her feet, "I tried talking to Mina. She wasn't exactly a fountain of information, but I found this on the floor. I was hoping to ask her about it..." She fished something out of her back pocket and handed it to you.

The Blue Devils patch Maddie had shown him, Rhonda, and Charley just before the connection had stolen Wally away. You inspected it, chuckling, "Wow. I didn't think these were still around."

"You know what it is?" Maddie asked, "Because I didn't until tonight."

"Ora was a Blue Devil," Ajay said as if lost in thought, staring at the patch. "She played tuba."

"It's crazy that you know that." You said wistfully through an amused smile. To the group, "Yeah, she was in the band. She still has her uniform and everything."

Maddie mumbled, "I keep forgetting she's, like, twenty years older than you."

"Seventeen," You corrected, and then, "She could've easily ended up being one of the bus crash kids, but she was sick that day. I wasn't even born, so I don't know much, but the way Rory tells it she got food poisoning from the cafeteria lunch the day before. Best worst day of her life."

"Jesus Christ," It fell out of Wally's mouth before he could stop it, stunned that your sister had almost wound up a ghost like the rest of them. Would she have been a looper, too? Or would she have been the only one of the bunch to snap out of it?

Fuck, it wasn't worth thinking about, Wally reprimanded himself, his hands unconsciously slipping under your sweater to rest skin-to-skin on your waist.

"I know," You mused, sober, "If she hadn't eaten the fish sticks, she'd be dead."

"It was on the floor in the theater." Maddie said, "It might be connected to why Mr. Anderson didn't want you in there. Don't ask how, but I know it means something and I know Mina has the answers."

Wally eyed Ajay, wasn't sure if he should out Ajay and Mina's relationship for the sake of getting Mina to talk. Ajay returned Wally's stare with a minute shrug.

"Mina won't listen to me, man." He said aloud, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Girl will take a bribe, though."

Charley squinted at Ajay, "Why would or wouldn't she listen to you?"

"They're dating. Or something." Wally explained.

Both Rhonda and Charley paused, glanced at each other then back to Ajay and demanded in unison, "How does that work?"

"That's what I wanna know!" Wally pointed imploringly at Ajay with his hand.

Ajay raised a brow at Charley, "Yeah, because you don't make a suspicious number of late night visits to the Art room..."

Charley blushed crimson. Rhonda panned her head to fix him with an impressed smirk. Wally pouted because, "Is everyone here hooking up and I don't know about it?"

"Bernie and I are friends, you know." Ajay said, insinuating something Wally couldn't quite parse out.

"That's amazing. Say a word and I'll find a way to end you." Rhonda gave him a malicious smile.

Ajay didn't utter another word. Just stood there with a smug, secretive smile on his face. From below, your giggle made Wally grin, and he found himself squishing you in a backwards hug and attacking your face with kisses. Just because.

"Tell me you and Mina aren't that gross," Charley groaned to Ajay.

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

Maddie cast about and said, "Guys, can we please get back to helping Simon?" Everyone settled to listen to her. "I have an idea."

You stared at Maddie, long and hard, and then offered, "Alright, tell me what you need to get Mina to talk, Mads, and I'm on it."

Filled with determination, Maddie said, "We need to find some flowers."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You felt a lot better now that there was a plan in place. Given that Nanna had stored a fair amount of stock from the family flower shop at home, you'd put yourself in charge of arranging the bouquet for Mina. You'd come to school at fucked o'clock in the morning—as early as you were allowed to be there. Mina would divulge what she knew. You would take that information to the appropriate authority and then, bing bang boom, Simon would be free and Mr. Anderson would be arrested.

Fingers crossed.

You'd text Xavier when you got home later and tell him not to bother getting up early. It was just past 1AM, you saw when you checked your phone, and he was definitely still up, Xavier a bit of an insomniac in times of stress.

"Great, now that that's settled," Rhonda began in that same prickly tone, "Can we talk about why Goldilocks can't get back into her body because we're trapped?"

You peeked up at Wally, wanted to see if he was comfortable with you explaining, but he was already looking at Ajay. Shifting your gaze, you noticed Ajay steeling himself. One breath, two, eyes closed and then opened. Obviously not one who enjoyed being the center of attention.

Eventually, he said, "About that. There's something I want you guys to see."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Ajay was ahead of you; Rhonda, Charley, and Maddie brought up the rear, leaving you and Wally to walk together in the middle.

"I thought I was going to have a heart attack," He admitted, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pressing a tender kiss into your hair. Butterflies erupted in your belly, the casual affection he'd been doting on you during and since the rooftop making you swoon, pleasantly dizzy from it. "I thought Rhonda was going to push me off the roof."

"If she did, I'd push her," You promised, cheeks pinking as you regarded him. Wally looked particularly handsome in the moonlight, his features striking. Your pulse quickened as you soaked him in, those sweet-sultry eyes blinking at you when he panned his head to grin down at you. "I've got your back," You finished, tongue suddenly too big for your mouth.

Ajay stopped a few meters in front of a tree you recognized as one of several that students carved their initials into. It was unspectacular, normal; bushy leaves in autumn colors, and twisty with knots and thick roots. The others caught up eventually, Charley marching a couple more steps ahead of Ajay before Ajay caught him by the back of his jacket.

"Don't want you to end up back in the cafeteria," Ajay said, pulling Charley back to a safe distance.

So, this was the almighty barrier Wally had mentioned. At least, a segment of it. You produced your phone from the pocket of your sweater, turned on the flashlight, and carefully neared the tree. Mindfully, you picked your way around the bottom of the tree, still managed to stumble and trip here and there where the roots were difficult to see.

Nothing stood out to you; some hearts, some graduating years, even a few profanities and one clumsy dick with a crudely marked phone number beneath it. Ordinary stuff that most high schoolers thought was hilarious or edgy.

Returning to the starting point, you placed your hand on the trunk, ridges rough under your palm. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breath, deep and even inhales and exhales as you attempted to connect to whatever energy might be hidden within the tree's heartwood.

You'd never tried to feel out another person's connectedness before. Nanna had taught you years ago, before Aiden was even born, but you'd never had a reason to do it.

You could sense the spectral energy of the ghosts behind you, a buoyant, antigravitational vibration. You felt something else ahead of you, barely a hum, as if caged within a lead box—blurry and distant and altogether difficult to pinpoint. In tandem ghost and human. Perhaps another ghost wandering the woods, following a living person who was taking a shortcut...

Then, quite suddenly, a piercing thrust of malicious, vantablack energy made itself known, shoving into you through your palm and sending you stumbling back over the raised roots. Your heel caught and you landed hard, phone falling face-down in the dirt.

"Are you okay?!" Charley called, arms braced against Wally who'd clearly tried to dash forward to your rescue, likely forgetting that he'd be transported back to the football field.

"Babe!?"

You raised a thumbs up and took a moment to let the adrenaline settle. "Fine," You assured, "Probably gonna bruise nasty, but nothing I can't handle." You heaved yourself into a sitting position, eyes scanning up the tree, following the cone of light from your phone to just above the faintest part of its reach. Frowning, you rolled yourself forward onto hands and knees, grabbed your phone and held it up to bring more light to a specific portion of the tree.

"No. Fucking. Way." You gawked.

"What is it?" Rhonda wanted to know, staring at you with a hard expression before glancing between the others. They all shared her question, each taking tiny, measured steps forward.

"It's...it looks like a ritual mark." You told them because, above all the depravity and memory-making, a strange symbol was etched into the bark, the cambium beneath blackened with age. A vertical line that bisected an unsymmetrical diamond with an X slashed through it. You took a picture of it, examined it on your phone as you rejoined the others. The symbol was as familiar as it wasn't; something in its nature niggled at the back of your mind.

In the years before everything had gone to shit, Ginny had spent countless afternoons delighting you with lessons on the craft. She'd taught you about the flora and fauna that harbored ancient energy; what talismans actually benefited the wearer and what were cheap, souvenir shop gimmicks. You'd enjoyed two whole days listening to her lilt the runic alphabet—fehu, uruz, thurisaz, and so on.

The symbol in the tree appeared to be a personal representation of a ritual rune, unlike any you'd seen before; its design unique to the individual and whatever purpose they'd needed it to serve.

"The barrier feels weakest here," Ajay said, "I was hoping you could find a way to break it."

You hummed in acknowledgment, completely transfixed as you continued to search your memory for the runes Ginny had shown you. "Yeah..." And then, when you'd processed what Ajay had said, "No. Even though it feels weaker, it isn't. The energy is just stretched outward."

"What does the mark mean?" Wally asked, arm already outstretched for you to tuck yourself under. An invitation your body instinctively accepted before your brain caught up to how you'd slid into Wally's space like you were meant to be there.

You lifted your phone to show him the screen, "It looks like someone just hacked random runes together to make their own, but..." Skirting your attention to Ajay, "I bet there are other places around the school where the barrier feels different, too?"

"Four others." Ajay nodded.

"About equidistant apart?"

"That sounds about right, yeah."

Maddie ventured closer, "What does it mean?"

A shiver ran down your spine as you shifted your gaze back to the tree, the weight of the truth looming in the deep, eerie blackness behind it. "It means this was planned."

At that precise moment, a twig snapped in the shadows. Wally repositioned himself, shoving you behind him so he could put himself between you and whatever was out there. The others were on-guard around you as well, the circle they'd stood in shrinking as a figure appeared from the darkness.

You held your breath, heart racing, and took an instinctive step back. Wally's form blocked you from seeing who it was, but your gut screamed at you to run run run, get out, leave, run, that sense of ghost-human energy shuddering through your veins.

You were ready to submit to the feeling only for, "Oh, hey!" a familiar voice split through the night, god dammit, seriously?!

"Who is that?" Charley inquired of the group at large.

Quickly, you shoved your phone back into your pocket, moving around Wally in as natural a manner as possible to call out, "What are you doing here, Dave?"

Dave emerged from the shadows, blond hair and bright white teeth catching the distant lamplight. He seemed momentarily confused, as if not quite sure where he was, looking about him. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he smiled again.

His expression turned to one of concern, then startled as he tripped over a raised root, looked about himself, shook himself off, and continued toward you. Up close, you could see his eyes were strained at the corners, his smile a little too tight, a thin film of sweat on his brow. Dave didn't look so good, the most unsteady you'd ever seen him.

Despite predicting what was about to happen, you weren't ready for Dave to haul you into a friends-and-family hug, his arms pinning your elbows to your sides and wringing you hard enough to expel the air from your lungs.

"You snuck out," And was he telling you that? His tone grated against your ear. "I've been looking for you."

"Well, here I am," You coughed with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. When the hell had Dave started to give a shit about your whereabouts? Your own mother didn't care as long as you brought home good grades and the potential of a bright future.

You wriggled out of his embrace, putting some necessary distance between you and him as he motioned to usher you to his car, "I parked down the street. Come on, let's get you home."

"I'm fine, Dave." You said, really, really fighting not to sound as unpleasant as Aurora nagged that you always did when speaking to him.

You wanted to argue, to stay and have Ajay show you the other points where the barrier's intensity was altered, however, Dave seemed insistent on getting you and him out of there. Covertly, you glanced at Wally, wordlessly asking for his input.

"It's okay, baby, we can show you the rest tomorrow morning." He said, and the others followed, murmuring their reassurance at separate intervals. All but Rhonda, who peered intently into the darkness where Dave had materialized.

"We've totally got this," She added belatedly, distant, distracted, but you took it for the endorsement of your surrender that it was and resigned yourself to trailing Dave to his car.

A scant step or two from the school property line, you heard footsteps behind you. Dave was far enough ahead, nattering on about work and sleep schedules and circadian rhythms, that you risked turning to see who it was.

Wally jogged up to you, all cheeky smirk and boyish charm, and grabbed you by the arm, abruptly drawing you flush against him and, in a flash, delivering a deep, heated kiss to your lips. His large hand cradled your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek, as he teased your bottom lip with his teeth. A streak of want burned through you, coiling in your belly. A whimper escaped you that Wally swallowed greedily and you could feel the shape of his smirk against your mouth.

As soon as it had begun, it was over. A one-and-done moment. So fast that by the time Dave noticed you weren't at his back, Wally had already detached from you, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. "Just wanted to say goodnight properly," He chuckled, licking his lips as if to savor your taste.

You hated him just a little bit because you couldn't say anything back. Couldn't tease him or tell him how much you wanted more; couldn't yank him into another searing kiss and have him lay you down in the grass; couldn't do anything except—

"Let's go, champ!" Dave called with his patented Real Estate smile, jingling his keys to signal for you to come. Like a dog. Your faced pinched in bitterness, an expression Wally seemed to find endearing because he chuckled and shook his head fondly.

"Better go, baby, or he might try to hug you again."

"Oh my god, I hate him so much." You grumbled under your breath and Wally all but cackled as he retreated toward the school, catching up with the others as they filed through the door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the darkness, meters from the tree you'd been inspecting only minutes ago, a girl wearing your friend's face scowled down at a hand that didn't belong to her, biting her tongue as she pulled one of the loose fingernails from its bed.

That idiot had come out of nowhere and the other was still nearby. As much as she needed to get back into the school, tonight wasn't the night.

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-TWO - PART TWENTY-FOUR

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