#he has a story but I really need to flesh it out better than

[planetaryupscaled]

Disenchanted 6

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 2k, cheating, creampie, cuckold, daddy kink

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It was well past 2am before Karina and I finished our marathon sex session. The ravishing woman having run out of energy, just letting me lazily pump her cunt with the last of my load for the evening.

It was a surprise that Jaewook was still asleep throughout the ordeal, given the fact that Karina and I really didn’t hold back, I even held her face against his thigh at one point, while railing her from behind, the slaps of flesh distorted by Jaewook’s snores.

I left an exhausted looking Karina to get some much needed sleep, lying face down next to her husband, covering her silky naked form with the sheets before closing the bedroom door behind me. There was an ache in my legs as I slowly descended the wooden stairs. I must have emptied at least five loads inside her that night, my sack was still reeling from the demands I put on it, my cock slowly getting accustomed to not being snugly sheathed within Karina’s tight body.

Opening the doors and slipping into the early morning air sent a ripple of energy spiraling through my senses. My eyes perking up suddenly at the rush of cold wind now billowing all around me as I retired back inside my homely lodge just in time before the heavens opened up with rain coming splashing down on the wooden roof. In many respects, tonight had been more extreme than the Yeonjun, Hajoon affair, it was with her husband, one she shunned for most of the night. Not that Jaewook caught on at first, but I had a feeling he was starting to connect the dots, the longer the three of us fucked. It was the little things, like the eye contact she gave me while we made love, not the same if any when it came to her husband. It was almost like he was, as she described Yeonjun and Hajoon before, a prop. It would not be too long till that final blow would be dealt, to my knowledge we were going to tell Jaewook in a few hours, not knowing what the best time to spill the beans was, if ever. Little did I know the blow would be dealt far sooner than expected and in the most brutal fashion imagined.

—

“Hey...can I come in?” Karina said, amidst the increasingly loud pitter patter of the rain outside.

I must have fallen asleep, checking my watch it was now half five in the morning with the birds already chirping outside.

“Hey...sure...come in.” I replied, getting up and ushering a soaking Karina in.

She was drenched, wearing nothing but a white bra and matching underwear, as she strolled into my posh glamping abode, a wicked smile strewn across her face.

“Karina, you are soaked...” I said, wrapping a towel around her and bringing her into the warmth by the fireplace.

“More than you know.” She chimed back, looking at me with those deep brown eyes of hers.

I felt like she wanted to tell me something, something important, there was a level of excitement emanating from her that I could not quite pinpoint.

“So...I had a talk with Jaewook” Karina said, “it’s over...”  with finality, running her hands along my arm.

“Um...what...I thought we were going to do it tog...” I started.

“It’s better this way.” She replied with a smile.

“How...did he take it?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not good at first, there were tears, his tears that is and then anger, then tears again. I left him in the bedroom to think it through, but I am pretty sure he has passed out again.” Karina said.

“Wow...so...” I replied.

“So...I guess that’s that...” Karina said, closing the gap.

“I’m yours...” She followed up.

“Seriously Karina, you wanna fool around after such a big decision has bee...” I started again, before getting interrupted by a kiss.

Her soft lips melded with mine, as if we were made for one another, the warmth of the fire stoking our bodies as I pulled her closer for a deeper embrace.

“You know...we were meant to do this together right?” I said, staring at her beautiful face.

“Guess...I’ve been a bad girl...” Karina replied, placing her hands on my chest.

“You know what happens to bad girls right?” I replied, catching onto the sudden erotic turn of events.

“What’s that?” She said, biting down hard on my lip as I felt her hands roam into my pants and grab harshly at my sack.

“They get...punished...” I replied, moaning at her touch while simultaneously man handling her to the bed.

“Wait...” Karina said.

“Film it...” She followed up with a cheeky grin.

I walked over to the side table, propping up my phone and pressing record, making sure the lens captured everything. This was to be our second video, and I wanted it to be hotter than the last.

“Ass across my lap, young lady.” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Karina presented her pert derriere to me.

“You ready?” I asked, palms already about to strike.

She looked at me, over her shoulder, in anticipation, sucking down on my thumb from my free hand.

“Don’t hold back...be rough with me...Daddy.” Karina said, seductively, before tensing her rear for me in quiet trepidation.

I drove down with full force, not holding back as I connected with Karina’s ass cheeks, the ripple effect causing a loud slapping noise to ring off the walls.

“Ahhhhh...Daddy...” Karina wailed.

“You like that?” I replied, coming down harder this time, slapping her rear while squeezing her red raw flesh under my hands.

“Yes...AHHH...harder...ahhhh.” Karina screamed, her rear now getting battered from my slaps.

Karina started whimpering with each subsequent smack, her body trembling under my grasp, till the brunette turned around over her shoulder, eyes watering slightly at the force of my strikes.

“Fuckkk...fuck me now.” Karina said breathlessly.

I was lost in the moment, my hand still shaking after smacking her ass red raw, staring down at Karina’s tight body, I slipped out of my boxers and rammed myself as far as I could into her married cunt. My tip piercing her silky folds with ease as I split the mother of three open with my cock, my crown roughly smashing up against her cervix with a thud as I bottomed her out. Karina felt different this time, kinkier in her requests as if the ante had been dialed up a few more notches as she pushed back onto my deep hard thrusts. Her walls sucking my shaft off as I drilled her mercilessly into the mattress, adding a few more slaps to her ass each time I pumped her cunt with more of my dick.

“Pull...my hair...” Karina said between moans, sucking on my fingers as I pried her mouth open with one hand and yanked on her hair with another.

It was the roughest we had ever been, but she loved it, arching her back to allow me to penetrate her pussy to the fullest, filling her pink chamber with my meat as I stuffed her unfaithful cunt with cock.

“Ughhh…Minho...yes...fuck...dadddyyyy...” Karina moaned, her eyes locked on the camera as I railed her in the prone position.

It was just in that moment that the front door swung open. her husband Jaewook standing a few feet away from us, a look of horror on his face. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, words failing him as he just watched, slack jawed as Karina and I stared back at him.

“Moree...give me more...” Karina demanded.

We were too far gone, not giving a shit about other people’s feelings at this point, we just needed to get off.

“You like that?” I asked, spanking her rear.

“Uhhh...yes...just...like...that...daddy.” She replied, biting her lips.

“Better than your husbands?” I asked, through gritted teeth as I fucked more of my straining cock into her tight pussy.

She raised her head, looking Jaewook deep in his tearful eyes as I penetrated her cunt.

“Worlds...better...” She replied with little remorse, pushing back on me as I flipped her over onto her back.

“Spread your legs baby.” I said, rubbing furiously at her throbbing clitoris.

She complied, parting her bronze thighs for me as I pierced her folds with my dick once more. I could sense her eyes ever so often glance over at a frozen Jaewook, his face not showing anger or sadness anymore, but acceptance as I spread his wife’s legs wider, spearing her cunt with deep rupturing strokes.

Karina’s cries of pleasure were mounting, her body was shaking as the brunette hung her head of the side of the bed, allowing me to plough into her marital pussy over and over again, ripping through her pussy with a hunger what needed to be satiated. My cock irrigating her womb of air, the more meat I fucked into her, forcing it out in a hurry, causing a highly erotic farting noise to ring out from between her legs.

I slipped my fingers into her mouth, pumping my dick deeper into her womb, feeling the warmth of her cunt urging me for release as we locked eyes.

“I want to feel you cum...” Karina moaned.

“Wai...” Jaewook spoke, his voice feeble in the distance.

We ignored his plea, locked in our own mating ritual as Karina pushed her hips towards me with each thrust, goading me into seeding her pussy.

“Fuck a baby into me...” Karina whispered, into my ear, loud enough for the killer blow to be heard by Jaewook.

It was enough to set us both off as I fucked my cock deep into Karina’s cunt, exploding at the tip as my pent up sperm peppered her cervix, leaking into her uterus as I injected her twitching womb with my thick milk.

“Ughhhh...baby...fill me...fill...me...up.” Karina groaned.

Her own orgasm triggering as I pumped her pussy fill of cum, my seed dribbling out the sides off her slit as I felt a rush of fresh fluids rush against my cock. She was gushing, the mix of my seed and her juices now coalesced as I force fed her married pussy more of my meat and sperm, right in front of her husband. I felt wave after wave of my cum, pump into her luscious cunt, spurt after spurt painting her insides in my sticky white milk.

Karina was dripping from the rear, as I finally stopped twitching inside her. The slickness of her womb bore the fruits of our labor as her gushing ceased, the stickiness smeared all over her inner thighs, dripping down her red raw ass cheeks as she got up and lay beside me in a huff. We stared at each other for a long moment, forgetting our unwanted guest for a few seconds as his sobs started again. Looking over, Karina purposely strode over to him, still leaking her womanly fluids form her slippery well fucked pussy.

“Jaewook...it’s over.” She said firmly, before turning to me wearing a smile on her face.

I looked at her, amazed and slightly shocked at the brutality of it all. Everything was caught on camera, the sex, the moans, the spanking, the lot. Rolling her hips on my lap while Jaewook took a last look at his wife, she turned to me, taking my tongue between her lips and sucking me firmly.

“Now...fuck me till I pass out...” Karina said, slipping my spent cock back into her freshly claimed cunt.

In that moment, she belonged to me, and she knew it, presenting her body to me for me to claim, claim her mind, body and soul, Karina was mine.

[jadeluz-official]

Hot takes on BJ2? It was okay. Not the worst film to ever come out. The Dolores story line felt weak but I was sort of pissed for bj at the end there

My hot takes:

Lydia should've married Beetlejuice

Rory was actually fun for a minor antagonist. I really liked him even though he treated Lydia like shit. His actor was phenomenal.

Delores didn't get fleshed out as a villain and the film missed its chance to explain BJ's resentment towards her. Though, I do think they were hinting something there with Delores/Rory. That was probably the point of her though, I think she was meant to be pointless. I'd argue she was in the film LESS than Beej himself hahaha

Beej willingly put his Afterlife on the line knowing Delores was out there just because Lydia needed his help. Not only did he help reuninute them, he literally sent Jeremy to Hell. I'm with you there, he needed to be compensated and Lydia got cold feet once again lmao

I really liked the way Lydia was portrayed. Sh00t ME! I know this one's controversial. I see a lot of myself in her and relate to her personality in a lot of ways in this sequel way more than the first movie. She's not some crybaby that can't solve problems, she likes working alone and has her eyes on the game at all times.

Lots of plotholes between the Handbook and Afterlife Crime rules. The marriage contract was solely between Lydia and BJ, there was no reason for it to go up in flames. And Astrid wouldn't know those rules better than Beej, Wolf, or Lydia who've read through it 1000 times

Those are most of my takes, I think. I really hope some of the fandom jumps on the Rory/Delores train since he does try to protect her from the Sandworm, and they'd make a great hot villain & loyal henchmen duo, along with Beetlejuice/Lydia being the antagonist in love with the protagonist trope.

This whole movie is a fun, shippy, chaotic mess. Lol everyone gets a little bit of something. I really liked it despite most of my criticisms

[iridescentxstars]

-> 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 .ೃ࿐ [ — bangchan ][part one]

➳ published: 23.06.24 ➳ credit: banner: @aaagustd || beta: @wooahaeproductions ➳ werewolf!au || bakery!au || enemies to lover!au || genre: smut || angst || supernatural || fluff || dark || rating: m ➳ pairing: alpha!bangchan x bakery!reader (fem) ➳ summary: a decision in chris' past leads him down a road that brings him to his mate and even though he says he doesn't want her - it seems destiny, and others, won't take no for an answer. ➳ word count: 28.5k (this part) || total: tbc ➳ warnings: mentions of cheating (on the reader by an ex), violence, toxic behaviour, manipulation, unprotected sex, light degradation/praise, accidental claiming, drunk sex (still able to consent and make decisions), no aftercare ➳ author's note: hello, it's me! it has been 4734873294 years since i started this fic and wow, i hope you love it! the mc is affectionately nicknamed 'sugar' and has minor descriptors just to help flesh her out a little more and she is implied to be curvy and soft (no eye colour, name, etc.). ➳ taglist: @byunparklimchoi @djeniryuu @sanjoongie @honey-andmilktea (please let me know if you want to be tagged in future works)

Life has always been about the choices you make, the ones you allow to change the trajectory of your future. Sometimes, these decisions are terrible and you learn lessons that you may never have had to otherwise but others can put you on the path of a future that turns your life upside down in all the best ways.

This wasn’t the thought you had when your sister called and asked if you wanted to join her in a new adventure. That adventure happened to be starting a small business, a bakery, in this cute little town on the coast. You didn’t know whether it was something you really wanted to do with your newly acquired business degree but how could you say no? How could you possibly say no to Spice when she pouted, holding her hands and pleading that without her darling little sister, she couldn’t possibly make this work?

Six years in university, the better half of your twenties, and you were packing up your small apartment to move out of the city to a new town. A new life. A fresh start. Considering that your loser boyfriend of several months had cheated on you and the exhaustion that ultimately came with being a university student had drained you significantly; this change in scenery could be something that is actually beneficial to you – especially since you were about to build the cutest little bakery with your sister.

‘Everything Nice.’

It took a lot of planning, hours, blood, sweat, and tears but after several months and many, many mental breakdowns, you and your sister were proud owners of a bustling little business that slowly grew to be something loved by the locals and tourists alike. It might not have been as flashy as the bakeries you would frequent near your university but it was everything that you both had dreamed about.

Apparently, it was also something the locals needed as well. You had plenty of regulars who would come as soon as you opened up their doors and others who always came in on their breaks for something to treat themselves before rushing back to work.

Your routines had changed and you went from a life of the party girl to someone who would be exhausted in bed before 10pm. You missed your old lifestyle, you missed going out with friends and getting into trouble that often resulted in silly, fun stories the next day but you had to admit that living near the beach, surrounded by fresh air and forests, was peaceful. The months rolled into a year and it never wore off – that peace, the serenity, and the healing that comes with time. You had managed to grow, to learn, to find more to your life than chasing after boys and passing out in random beds every weekend.

Plus, you were able to bond with Spice and eat her delicious baking whenever you wanted.

Like right now, as the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the kitchen into the front of the bakery. You start to salivate, comedically following the sweet scent towards the viewing window and smiling at your sister. Serena, or Spice as you affectionately call her, is standing in the messy kitchen with her hair tied up in a messy bun and an apron on with flour over the front where she’s used it as a hand cloth. “Are they ready?” You stare intensely at the oven while Serena laughs in amusement, shaking her head, “what?!” Your voice raises an octave as you pull away from the window, heading towards the kitchen with the door swinging closed behind you as you enter.

“Nothing, I’m just surprised that our customers have anything to eat with the way that you are always ‘taste-testing’ everything I make.” Scrunching your cute nose up, you swipe one of the bakery’s signature chocolate chip cookies sitting on the tray and take a bite. The deliciousness is overpowered by the heat, causing you to tilt your head back and breathe out hot air with a whine. “You literally just watched me take it out of the oven, silly! What are you doing?” Oh, don't you look so funny trying to cool down the burning cookie in your mouth?

“I couldn’t wait! They smelled so good!” You tried to speak with your mouth full of goodness.

Clicking her tongue at you, Serena passes over a plate for you to quickly place down the cookie and grab a glass of milk to help soothe the burning sensation in your mouth. “Clearly.” She laughs when you begin acting a little more dramatically than you need to, helping the woman settle her nerves about the massive catering event later. “You can’t eat everything that comes out of the oven today, I’m sorry that you’ll have to make do with what we already have out the front. With the size of the catering order, I need every cookie I make.”

You smile and giggle, nodding your head as you grab your plate and take another bite, “don’t forget about our regular coming in today for his order!” You wave the cookie in goodbye before heading out to the front, just in time to hear the front doorbell chime, announcing a customer walking in. “He hasn’t missed a week since he started coming here!” Serena hums softly to show that she hasn’t forgotten and getting back to work, You turn to smile at the newcomer. “Hello!” You smile brightly, your cheeks soft and round, as you place your plate out of sight under the till. You walk out to the front of the store, past all the breads and pastries, to check over some of the items, “if you are after anything in particular, feel free to ask.” The customer bows in acknowledgement while browsing while you simply tidy the savoury displays up.

The day passes by rather quickly and you are certain that if you didn’t go and annoy Serena every few moments then she would lose her mind or drown in the amount of cookies and macarons that she has made today. You help where you can, mostly with the savoury items, placing all the food onto trays and organising them so that they are ready for pick up while Serena focuses on baking and making sure that nothing in the store is running low. A lot of work for you two but you both manage to get it done and before long, you are finally able to sit down on your little stool behind the counter. The clock indicates it’s time for the kitchen to start getting cleaned so now you can focus on selling whatever is left over so that you don’t have too much waste when closing.

You realise as you scroll through your notifications that the regular hasn’t arrived to collect his order and honestly, you pout at the thought that maybe he had forgotten; not only does Serena put extra effort into the order because he’s their first regular since you established the bakery and gained a reputation around town but also because… well, he’s hot. You know that the food isn’t just for him, the amount alone is way too much for one person to eat by themselves and it doesn’t matter whether it’s for friends or a girlfriend because you're far too shy to actually ask but you just like looking at him. From a distance, of course, you’re not that weird… or you hope not. He has this smile that makes you melt inside every time you see it and he is really friendly – is it wrong that you have a little crush?

“You could always help me with the cleaning, you know,” Serena pops her head through the door, glaring at the younger sister as you sit on your phone replying to a friend about a party happening in the city this weekend. It’s been a long time since you had gone and seen everyone and while most of the group that you spent time with in university are people you still get along with, there are some you could happily go without seeing ever again but your friend thought it’ll be good to catch up.

It should be fine, right? A party, plenty of people, it shouldn’t be that bad.

Looking over at Serena, you smile innocently, pointing to the front of the store where you had placed some of the sandwiches and pastries to entice people to come inside and see what else you had to offer. “Oh, but dearest sister, if I am out the back helping you then who is going to make sure that nobody is stealing your delicious goodies?”

Serena scoffs, raising an eyebrow as a man stops and looks over the assortment, “and what? If he stole a sandwich, would you chase him down the street and tackle him to the ground for theft?”

Gasping dramatically, you place your hand over your chest in faux offence, “Rude! Are you saying that I can’t run?”

“Can you?”

There’s a moment of silence before the two of you start to laugh, her head disappearing from the door to carry on with her closing while you stand up and place your phone in your apron pocket. Straightening out your dress, you try your best to stifle your laughter as the man walks inside with a brown paper bag full of sandwiches. “Welcome to Everything Nice!” You chime cheerfully, watching as he slowly walks around, grabbing a few extra items here and there before making his way to the counter. 

The man’s attire stands out in contrast to your soft pastel purple dress, with pockets you like to point out. His black band tee has been made into a singlet by having the sleeves cut off and his black jeans are paired with some black boots and of course, you wonder where this man came from. “If you want anything else, everything is half-price since we are closing soon.” You smile at him, hoping that maybe his attitude is brighter than his wardrobe. You didn’t manage to get a good look at him earlier while he was strolling his way through the small bakery but when you take in his features, you pause, blinking slowly as you take him in.

Seriously, where in all that is holy did this man come from?

You’ve lived here for a while now, you’ve made friends with some of the locals but never have you laid eyes on this man but then… Why does he feel familiar? Not that you can figure it out right there but you’re certain you’ve never met. Yet, there’s this strange feeling, a flutter in your stomach as your eyes slowly trace over his face, that he is someone important, like a long-lost friend that you’ve forgotten.

Maybe more but surely not.

His deep brown, almost black, eyes are on you as he patiently waits for you to do something other than stare at him – like your job. His features are masculine, strong, and makes you wonder if he was in one of your classes but if you did go to school together, he’d have said something by now right? You have a good memory, most of the time, so you’re certain there’s no connection to him but it doesn’t chase away that feeling. Eerie. The sharpness of his jawline is in direct opposition to the softness of his full lips, which are currently pulled into a frown because instead of working – you’re openly staring at him and probably making him uncomfortable.

Scratch that. Definitely making him uncomfortable.

Clearing your throat, you pull your gaze away from his face with a tinge of pink colouring your cheeks. You hadn’t missed the size of his biceps when he crossed them over his chest while waiting, and the unholiest thought went through your mind in that moment – and a sudden need to know what it would be like to feel them around you.

Chris’ day started about as good as it would go walking across a room filled with mouse traps. As the Alpha of the Moonlight Grove Pack, he’s been stuck in discussion with other neighbouring packs about a peace deal. They’ve had a few close calls with some hunters lately and this way, they can keep under the radar to prevent them from getting any closer than they already are. Most of the Alphas have agreed to the terms of the deal as they all know that this is the best way for them to get through these next few months unscathed.

Hunters are always finding new ways to capture them, to destroy what they consider the darkness that haunts the forests but usually they give up after failed attempts to find a wolf. A lot of these packs have been here for generations, Chris’ pack being one of the oldest and while there are always risks that come with staying in one place, his father refused to run away and so does he.

There have always been talks about fighting back but an all-out war with the hunters isn’t a smart move and while Chris might have a short temper, he likes to play things smart; he’s not the type of Alpha who will rush into a fight without knowing whether he’s going to win or lose. He also doesn’t lose, or particularly like losing. He doesn’t care about wolf pride, he doesn’t care about fighting until his final breath, he couldn’t give a shit about all of that if it means being a mounted fucking head on the wall of some human who happened to be a good shot.

He’d rather keep his pack alive than have them torn apart like he’s seen with other packs.

Some of the rogues, however, are not as eager to back down and comply. They don’t care for peace, they don’t care about following orders and they also don’t care for hunters. This is why they left the packs that they were connected to, not wanting to be tied to some rules that forced them to bow down when they’d rather die fighting. It’s a painful thing to do but for some wolves, it’s better than being what they consider being cowardly.

The wolf rubs his chin as he thinks about the look on his old beta’s face when they stood nose to nose earlier during the meeting. Sure, it was a hit to the gut when he saw Minho standing there with the other rogues, his oldest friend having left the pack a year ago when Chris didn’t retaliate against the death of his mate. It’s not that he didn’t want to – fuck, the wolf in him wanted nothing more than to tear the entire pack apart with his best friend beside him. He wanted to provide vengeance, feel their necks snap in his strong jaws, and taste their blood on his tongue but nobody could have afforded a war then, just like they can’t now, so the Alpha took the diplomatic approach and had the offending wolf rejected from his pack.

It’s forbidden to kill another wolf’s mate, considered one of the most heinous crimes anyone can commit against their fellow wolf kind, and he should have died for the act but it wasn’t going to bring Minho’s mate back.

Minho had left shortly after, not wanting to follow his Alpha’s command about no violence, and sought out revenge on his own. This resulted in him severing his connection to the pack and that was the last time Chris had seen him.

Weak. That was what Minho had called him back then and the word swirls around in his mind as he remembers the incident. Shaking his head, Chris pushes away the thoughts as he rounds the corner to the pastel yellow bakery that he’s been frequenting for the past few months.

Not him directly since Felix, his new second in command, has been collecting his orders but it’s still him who pays for the orders.

He remembers hearing about Everything Nice opening up. The stir that the two sisters created when they moved into town and opened up the bakery was enough to have the Alpha and his pack curious about who they could be. It isn’t unusual for people to come and go but considering that the town isn’t what he would consider a dream location for two young women – their reasons for coming here did cause rumours to fly around. He scoffs, thinking about how easily amused people can be when they have mundane lives of their own because realistically, he couldn’t care less about why they had moved here. The only reason he had been curious was because this was his territory and he wanted to make sure they weren’t going to bring trouble with them.

It makes sense though, a bakery like theirs should be doing well here as it’s a business that has no competition, locals that’ll happily purchase their treats, and during the summer, tourists coming for the beach.

While Chris may not really care about their reason, as he approaches and looks over the sandwiches left outside, he does admit they made really good bread. He fills up a paper bag and heads inside, his nose instantly bombarded with an abundance of smells that make his stomach growl in hunger.

“Welcome to Everything Nice!” A soft and sweet voice calls to him when he enters the bakery, the bell ringing above the door almost unheard as he looks over in her direction briefly before he looks back at the other items in his path, half listening to what she’s saying. Something about deals. Chris hums, more to himself than anything, looking over the pastries and grabbing a few extra items since he knows that the boys will complain about him not bringing them back as much as he can carry.

Who said he was a bad Alpha? Like fuck he is.

When he finally reaches the counter, placing all the bags on the glass bench, he watches as the woman’s eyes widen, her mouth slightly parting in shock and it takes everything in him to refrain from sighing as she openly checks him out. Honestly, it’s not unusual for him to gain this type of reaction from women and it’s usually followed by some type of hair twirl and batting of the eyelashes. In the past, he would have engaged, flirted with them, and gotten their number but today – he doesn’t care… oh?

All that happens is that the woman blushes as she rings everything up on the till.

Interesting.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Chris’ lip twitches slightly, amused that despite her attempt to seem unaffected, it’s obvious that she is with the way her voice hitches slightly and her heart is racing.

Tilting his head to the side, Chris checks her out with the same openness that she had before, causing her to get more flustered by his actions. There’s something about her, something he isn’t going to try to figure out while everyone is waiting for him so he hums, nodding his head instead of asking for her name.

Maybe he’s fucked her back in university.

“I have an order here, it should be ready by now.” He speaks, his voice softer than usual but still holding that timbre that has most women swooning for him. “The order is under the name ‘Christopher’.”

“Oh?” She sounds a little surprised, confused maybe, but she doesn’t elaborate as she nods her head and turns on her heels to grab a large box from behind her. “I was wondering when he was going to come in, can you tell him I said hi?”

Chris raises an eyebrow, it’s not hard to figure out this woman is under the impression that Felix is him. It’s not surprising really, it’s not like there was a photo attached to his name but surely the beta would have said his name at some point… it’s been months. “Are you close with him?” Felix hasn’t really spoken about her specifically but he does always hear the beta talk about the two sisters and how cute the younger one is, bright and cheerful, as sweet as the cupcakes that they make.

She shakes her head, the softest smile on her face. “Mm, not super close, no. He’s our favourite regular, especially since lately, he brings us flowers.” She brings his attention to the bouquet of freshly picked peonies and it takes everything in Chris not to growl in annoyance. Those are from his garden, he was wondering what was happening to his flowers and why they were oddly disappearing. “We are very happy to have his support!”

Oh, it would be so easy to burst that little bubble of hers but Chris decides that he’s not going to do that – yet. Instead, he takes a deep breath, inhaling in an addictively sweet, sugary scent mixed with the peonies, and forces himself to smile. He’s going to have fun with this, it’s been a while since he was able to fuck around like this so why not pick on the human who doesn’t know better. Not only is Felix never allowed to come and collect his order anymore, but he’s going to see how long he can drag this out.

Does he need to do this? Absolutely not but with everything going on lately, he needs the entertainment.

“Ah, well, I’ll make sure to let him know,” he passes the woman his card, noticing that she doesn’t even bother to check the name on the card as she swipes it down the machine and hands it back to him. “See you next time,” he winks, making that deliciously pink tinge return to her cheeks, grabbing the handles of the bags and heads for the door. “I swear to the fucking Moon Goddess, Felix…” he growls through gritted teeth as the door swings closed behind and he walks with purpose back towards his car.

His peonies? Seriously?

The man comes in to collect the order every time over the next month, the order that is his and you still haven’t figured it out. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t told you that it’s his so how else would you know this? It must really amuse him whenever you pass on your wishes to Felix… or well, him. He walks in, carrying a few extra items from out the front every time, and would even buy a loaf of bread or a small pack of cupcakes on top of the order. “For myself,” he says while you neatly box everything up and place a little discount coupon for him to use the next time he comes in.

You have learned that he’s not one for conversation, choosing to listen unless you directly ask him questions but it’s clear that he’s observing everything around them; like he needs to be aware of his surroundings at all times, which has you wondering who he is for him to be so on edge like that. He’s definitely not famous… maybe it’s an ex that he’s trying to avoid seeing. Sometimes, he makes a few teasing comments that cause your cheeks to heat up because you don’t know whether this insanely attractive man is actually flirting with you or if he’s just pushing your buttons since you’ve been caught several times checking him out.

Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle about it.

“So, are you a part of the ‘everything nice’?” He asks one Friday afternoon, leaning his hip against the counter, arms folded as the black tee he wears strains over the muscles of his chest. Dark, curious eyes twinkling lightly as he looks you up and down before making their way to your face, watching your reaction. 

You giggle, playfully rolling your eyes because that isn’t the first time someone has tried their luck with that particular pick up line. Every single guy that has walked into the bakery has tried it but honestly, it almost works with the amount of confidence he spoke with and that smirk on his lips has you feeling like you could melt. He could ask you for anything and you’d probably agree. Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you pack the items. “You do know that you aren’t the first person to say that, right? I’ve had three guys use that on me already.” You shake your head, amused, before entering the total into the EFTPOS machine, and the man hands over the card.

A low hum escapes him as he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, “And you turn them all down because you have someone already?”

“Well, I didn’t say that, did I?” Your lips quirk upwards into a teasing smile as you pass the card back to him, meeting his eyes and you wonder if that’s interest swirling within those dark irises or if he always looks this intense. Probably both. Either way, it really does something to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

He’s about to say something, clearly wanting to be able to continue this, but the ringing of his phone cuts the conversation short and he pulls away. “I’ll see you around, sugar~.” He says as he grabs everything before taking his leave and of course, you watch him as he goes.

Damn, he’s got such a nice ass.

“What is it?” Chris growls lowly into his phone as he walks out of the bakery, not glancing back even though he can feel the pretty woman’s eye on him, watching him closely leaves. Oh, it’s tempting to turn back and watch her fluster when she knows that he caught her staring. The way her cheeks go the loveliest shade of pink every time and her eyes widen like a deer in headlights before trying to busy herself has started to become his favourite reaction yet.

He’s wearing the same style as he always has when he’s come to visit, a black tee that fits him perfectly, sometimes missing the sleeves but always hinting at the strong muscles hiding underneath, and some kind of black pants. His wardrobe doesn’t really have a lot of variety these days but he couldn’t really give a shit about it when he had more to worry about than being some kind of fashion icon. His short black hair isn’t usually styled since he’s often running his fingers through it all day so it’s slightly messy by the time he arrives and while Chris doesn’t care if he looks particularly show stopping – she seems to find it to be with the way she’s looking. Maybe she’s looking for a prospective mate, she seems to be in that age where women are usually doing that, and the way she’s checking him out makes it clear that the woman is single but if a mate is something she’s after… Chris is not the man for her.

Even in the cutest dresses that change every single time he comes in, even when her smile seems to take up all of his attention that he forgets why he’s there, and even when her scent lingers around him, drawing him in – Chris is not the man for her.

He’d be the worst thing to happen to a human and oh, this woman is far too precious to break. Like that, anyway.

A name grabs his attention, pulling his wandering thoughts away from the sweetest thing he’s laid his eyes on and causes his jaw to clench. “He left. What the fuck is he doing hanging around my territory?”

When a wolf leaves the pack they are in, depending on the circumstances they are either forbidden to return or can come and go without consequences. It’s not that Chris has actually told Minho and his little band of wayward followers that they can’t visit the pack territory, it’s more about why they are here. His former beta only comes when he wants something or wants to cause trouble and from the way the wolf has been hanging around lately - something is coming Chris hates that he’s in the dark about it.

“He still hasn’t told you his name?” Serena walks out of the kitchen when the man leaves, watching as you walk back from having locked the door behind him and trying to get one last look at the tasty treat of a man before he disappears for another week. “You’d think that because he’s picking up the order, he would have given you a name too.” She leans a shoulder against the wall and looks at the front door with that disapproving big sister scowl.

Shrugging your shoulders, you pout slightly because she has a good point. You had been meaning to ask for his name, maybe his number, but the chance never really came up since it’s not like he’s very forthcoming with any type of chatter unless he’s flirting and making your poor heart stutter. “If he’s hot then there’s surely going to be some kind of red flag about him,” you recite the saying that you and your friends would say whenever they found a new fling. Spice looks at you for a moment, lips pursed as if she’s about to say something but then decides against it; instead, she sighs and heads over to the register to start the cash up while you put everything away and begin closing down the store.

Usually, you get rather chatty, laughing and playing music as you clean up but tonight, the both of you want to get out of there as quickly as possible. You both have plans, plans that will end the week on a good note and you don’t want to waste a moment since you still need to head upstairs and get ready.

Girls night. It has been a while since you have managed to get your sister to get out to Seoul and you  want nothing more than to go catch up with your friends, let loose, and paint the town red. While the town has a nightclub or two, it is always the same people who frequent them and it is so hard to be free for the night when one mistake could end up becoming the town’s gossip the next day.

You also refuse to have to serve the man at any point afterward.

Once everything has been done, you lock the back door behind her, rattling the handle to make sure it’s locked before rushing up the stairs behind Serena. Your two-bedroom apartment is conveniently located above the bakery and helps you both out with travel costs since you don’t need to commute to work. Most people who come from the city might say that it is a downgrade and in a sense, it is; modest and small, half the size of what you once had but it has everything two women could possibly need. You love the space and you don’t have to pay a ridiculous amount of rent for the place. Your bra comes off immediately as soon as you close the door and kick off your shoes. “You know…” You start as you flop down onto the couch and drop the cursed item of clothing onto the floor.

“No,” Serena states as she places her bag down on the table and shakes her head while you lift yours to look over at her, appalled that you were shot down before you could even state your case. “Your breasts are big enough that you will be able to tell that you aren’t wearing a bra. We want people to come into the bakery for our food - not men coming in to stare at your nipples.”

Sitting up, you frown at your older sister like a child who has just been told off by a parent, “That’s rude.” You grumble before getting up and heading to your room. “Since you’re being such a spoilsport, I’m going to use the shower first!” You poke your tongue out before pretending to stomp your feet on your way out.

Serena hums in acceptance as if to simply please the tantrum you’re having while continuing her own routine. You toss your bra into the washing basket in the corner near your bed before going to the wardrobe to browse through your clothes. You want something that’ll catch attention, something that’ll help make sure that the pent-up sexual frustration will be taken care of because you refuse to resort to Tinder in this tiny town. Imagine sleeping with the guy who always messes up your coffee order!

Oh? This should do perfectly. You think to herself as you find a pretty red dress with a very low cut, revealing back.

“You look like you’re going to try and get in trouble.” Your sister comments when she gets out of the shower and finds you sitting at your vanity doing your makeup. You’re taking your time to make sure that you look dangerous, your hair a little wild and your makeup bold, you want to look like you could catch the attention of those mafia boyfriends you love to read about.

Maybe enough to catch the attention of a dangerous man who frequents the bakery. You can only hope.

Smiling proudly, you stand up and twirl around before striking a silly pose, causing Serena to laugh. “Thank you~. I’m going for the deadly Queen vibe.” You pucker your lips, making herself look even more ridiculous in the hopes that it’ll help your sister loosen up about the night. She’s protective, she always has been, and while you love her to the moon and back – she needs to leave that protectiveness behind for one night and focus on getting laid.

Not that you’ll actually tell her that… okay, maybe you will. Who knows what you’ll do? The night is young.

A hand claps on his shoulder, causing Chris to tense briefly before he relaxes and turns his head to face Felix. The younger wolf smiles at the approaching bartender before telling her the orders that the Alpha didn’t provide before. “The whole reason to say you’ll order drinks is to actually, you know, order the drinks, man,” Felix speaks quietly, throwing a concerned look at the other. Chris looks like he’s suffering from a headache from the music but really, the ear-splitting volume isn’t the reason. “You coming back to the table?”

The both of them look over at the table in question and Chris’ upper lips curl, a low grow emitting from deep within his chest. The reason for the possible headache is smiling over at them, waving his fingers before looking around the room. He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, coming to a nightclub to have a serious talk like this but apparently, this is considered neutral ground. Being out of the territory and surrounded by humans would mean that they would all be on their best behaviours but that’s where they underestimate who they are dealing with – Minho doesn’t exactly have a ‘best behaviour’. Scheming, ruthless, and manipulative, Minho has always been good at getting himself into trouble, equally as good at getting out of it too, and this setting wouldn’t actually stop the wolf from causing trouble.

It’ll only stop all of them from starting a fight in a place where hunters could be lurking.

“You could ease up on the alcohol, you know,” Chris says pointedly, helping Felix grab the drinks placed in front of them. It’s not unusual for Felix to be with him since he is the second in command but Felix isn’t a warrior. He was never trained to be a fighter like the betas usually are, he’s smart, and fast but he’s more of a gentle soul. The only reason Felix is with him tonight and not someone like Changbin is because there is too much bad blood between Minho and the other betas and Chris is reducing the drama as much as he can tonight; they might not have a blast but they can get through it alive at least. “Now,” Chris clears his throat when they both approach the table, placing the drinks down before taking a seat and leaning back into the worn black leather. Folding his arms over his chest, he looks at the former pack wolf, eyes narrowing slightly, “We’ve had a few drinks, what the fuck do you want?”

Minho acts like he has all the time in the world as he grabs his drink, ignoring the question while taking a sip. It’s obvious that he’s exerting his freedom, showing he doesn’t have to respond to the Alpha if he doesn’t want to. However, when Minho finally speaks, Chris is sure that he’s had too many drinks to be serious. Alcohol doesn’t affect wolves the same way that it does humans, supernatural healing allows them to filter out the effects faster so it takes a lot to get them drunk but there is no way he said something that fucking insane without being drunk. Chris snorts while Felix coughs into his glass before looking as dumbfounded as the older. “Shall I repeat myself?” Minho says calmly, looking over the rim of his glass at his former Alpha, “I. Want. To. Challenge. You.” Each enunciated word sounds as ridiculous as the first time he said it.

“Are you fucking brain dead? You can’t be serious?” Chris laughs shortly in disbelief.

Minho remains perfectly at ease as he places his glass down, his eyes flash for a moment that has the other two tensing up, “Deadly.” It’s almost like he’s certain he’s going to win, like there is absolutely no way that he could lose. “You’re unmated which means that the leadership of the pack will eventually be up for grabs so why not take my chances early?”

“So you think that you can challenge me now and fucking take over?” His jaw clenches so hard that it feels like his teeth could almost shatter from the tension. “I have a while before I need to worry about–”

“You avoid every mating ceremony, even wolves without packs attend those. Word gets around. The great Christopher Bang refuses to take a mate. Stubborn as fucking always, Chris. You know that having a mate makes us stronger.” Minho knows the right buttons to push, he knows the reasons why Chris won’t accept a mate, and like the master manipulator that he is, he’s using it against him.

For what reason, nobody but he knows.

“Is that what it did for you?” He bites back, his jaw ticking as his hand nearly crushes the glass he’s holding. It’s a shitty comment to throw back at him; Minho was happy when he had his mate and what happened wasn’t his fault at all, it was something nobody could have known would happen, but Chris couldn’t help himself.

He thought that Minho might lose it, might find that stab as painful as the day his mate died and give them away, just so he could have a good reason as to why he wouldn’t accept the challenge but he’s only left disappointed. There’s a flash of gold in Minho’s eyes before he closes them to take a deep breath, settling himself back into the calm state like before. “You can try and get out of this, Chris, but the only way that you can secure your hold is by either accepting the challenge and winning or by finding your mate.” He turns his head as if he is looking for something, maybe someone, eyes scanning the crowds around them, but really, he’s looking for a reason to leave. “You have until the end of the week, Alpha, and if you haven’t decided by then – I’m going to take this to the next meeting.”

With that, Minho gets up and makes his way towards the door, pushing his way through people with Chris glaring after him. “That fucking asshole!” Chris growls deeply, drinking the entire contents of his glass before slamming it back down as he takes deep, heavy breaths. “He’s doing this to start a damn war.”

“Well, don’t let him.” Chris can tell that Felix has somehow gotten distracted, his attention barely on his Alpha and the meltdown he’s currently having but on the two women that Minho is now talking to. The interaction has both of the wolves’ hackles raised as they watch from their seat as Minho leans in close to whisper something in the shorter woman’s ear. “She looks… God, look at her.” He whispers, more to himself than to Chris and it takes everything in him not to snap at the beta for whom he thought Felix was looking at, talking about, thinking of.

It would make sense, right? Felix has been bringing her flowers, talking to her, and giving her a good image of himself, so good that she’s always asking about him. When is he coming back? How is he doing? Did he like last week’s order? Fuck, it drives him crazy that she’s clearly more interested in his beta but it drives him insane that he’s even caring about something like that. 

Why wouldn’t Felix like her? She has this air about her that is captivating, even if she isn’t aware of it. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than the peonies Felix has been gifting her. She captures attention with her smile, brighter than the sun, and it makes Chris want to be the reason for such a sight. He wants to be the reason she laughs, a contagious little laugh that makes his own lips curl in response. This woman is the flame and the wolves are the moths that are attracted to her and why wouldn’t they be? Especially now. Fuck sakes, she looks–

“Shit.”

When you walked into the club, arms intertwined with Serena’s, the last thing you expected was some scarily handsome man coming up to you and striking up a conversation. He totally lucked out in the gene pool, his features similar to the men on the covers of her favourite books and that smirk on his lips really does something to her. You are aware that you’ll attract attention tonight because you dressed to impress but hitting the jackpot like this before even stepping onto the dance floor and showing what you’ve got to offer? That’s some type of lottery luck that you don’t think you have.

Serena keeps your arms interlocked as this man talks to you, acting a little too friendly for her liking. Isn’t it strange that he was heading for the door, clearly wanting to leave but all of a sudden, he’s suddenly happy to stand and chat? You clearly don’t have the same mistrust and thought process as your sister but that is because you did drink significantly more and are more susceptible to the sweet compliments he pays. “I’m so sorry for the mistake, doll, I honestly thought you were in my class last year.” He says after a while, pretending that his friendliness was due to him thinking you were someone he knew, “I swear we have met before.”

“Maybe!” You giggle, covering your mouth with your other hand, “maybe you’ve seen me in your dreams~.” The comment is only meant to be a joke, a little flirtatious comment said offhandedly and not meaning anything at all but his eyes darken slightly.

Leaning in, his hand rests on your waist to keep you close enough for him to whisper in your ear. You shiver slightly, the alcohol confusing your fear for excitement, while Serena tenses at his closeness. Clearly, one of them is thinking about the intentions of this stranger. “Little lamb, I would be very careful about whose dreams you choose to wander into~. You never know what’ll happen in them.” 

Blinking, confused, you laugh slightly to cover up the feeling of uncertainty about whether he just flirted with you or if he had threatened you. Surely not the latter, right? You don’t know him, why would he threaten you like that? However, there’s no time to ask or linger on the thought since the stranger is bowing politely and bidding you both goodnight, leaving without waiting for a response and causing you to watching him go.

What a strange interaction. Did he mean that the dreams could be spicy? That has to be it, right? Surely, he didn’t threaten you…

Your sister pulls you towards the bar and your head turns back to the door for a moment, running it through your mind briefly before shaking your head. He’s a fish that’s gone back into of fish, there’s no need to waste time thinking about a failed catch – there’s plenty more to lure in and hook. “What a weirdo,” Serena grumbles under her breath as she waves her hand to catch the attention of the bartender.

You nod slightly, “Yeah…” Immediately, the encounter is gone out of your mind as the DJ starts to play your favourite song, almost like everything is telling you to not focus on what happened and focus on what could happen. “Oh my God!” You squeal, turning to Serena and giving her arm a tug, “Come and dance with me!”

Out of the two, you have always had the passion for dancing, originally you wanted to be a ballerina before your parents pushed you towards a career choice that would ‘actually make money’. Serena never really had the same excitement as you did so while one practices and takes classes in her spare time, the other has two left feet.

Brushing you off, Serena shakes her head which has you whining slightly before looking out to the dance floor longingly and then back to the bar before the decision is made. “You know what I want!” You kiss your sister’s cheek, “I’m going to dance! Come find me when you have our drinks!” You dash towards the crowd, narrowing missing the way that two men are watching you and Serena with curiosity and interest.

It's not unusual for you to rush off, especially when you’re drunk. You have always lived your life a little more carefree than your older sister, even while you were studying hard in university, you never sacrificed your social life for sleepless nights in the library. Healthy and balanced lives keep you mentally sane – that’s what you would tell Serena whenever the older worked herself too hard and you were dragging her out to have fun. Whenever the opportunity came to let loose, to go out and do something crazy, you never failed to take the chance with both hands simply to see where the night would end.

The night usually ended in someone’s bed but hey, at least they were cute!

Closing your eyes, you move in time with the music, letting your body move freely and the more into it you get – the wider your smile becomes. You don’t notice the bodies around you, anyone who might be too close to you because everyone is doing exactly what you’re doing – living in their own world on the dance floor. A slave to the music, hypnotised by the atmosphere, you close your eyes and let your body move however the beat wants it to. You don’t notice when a firm body presses against your back, calloused fingers ghosting over your hips, not touching but close to, the tease of the connection has you leaning against him and allowing the stranger to pull you closer, moving in time with you.

The anonymity of the strong body behind you keeps your eyes closed as you raise your hands to wrap around behind his neck, head resting against his shoulder, tilting to the side as you can feel his hot breath against your neck. You can feel electricity rushing through your veins where he’s touching you and it’s like you’re one, bodies moving in time with each other. His large hands hover over your wrists as you bring them down before your fingers intertwine and wrap around your stomach to keep you against him. Everything in your body is alive with a fire that you’ve never felt before, so sensitive as his fingers trace as light as a feather over your body, having you react in ways that shouldn’t be so easily pulled with such little effort. It is like he knows every string to strum, a musician knowing how to play you with a skill that should take a lifetime to master, not seconds, and you’re merely the willing instrument wanting to sing for him.

Soft pillowy lips rest on your pulse and you instinctively give more access, wanting to feel the pressure even if it’s for the briefest of moments. The world no longer exists, your name unheard over the music because all you can focus on, all you know in this moment is your stranger. Nothing else matters, nothing but him, you, and this feeling blossoming within you.

A growl erupts from those lips, so tantalisingly close, and vibrates through his chest before the warmth that you feel, the firmness of his muscles against your back, and the moment that you’re wrapped in is gone and you take a while to fully realise that it has left.

“What…?” You blink, opening your eyes a little too late to catch his retreating back push through the crowd, towards the door. It takes another second longer to figure out where you are before you see Serena, waving at you from a booth with your drink getting warmer by the minute. Running your fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face, you let out a sigh of disappointment and head over to your sister, hoping that she saw the man that you were dancing with. “Did you—”

She must have known exactly what you were thinking because Serena shakes her head, making you pout as you dramatically plop down in the seat next to her. “No, when I saw you dancing, his head was lowered to your neck, it looked like he was kissing it.” You subconsciously rub the spot where you had felt his lips, faintly feeling a tingle there, before reaching for your drink and consuming almost half the glass. “I couldn’t see his face but from the size of him, he would have been your type. What happened?”

You think about it for a moment, trying to remember what exactly happened but the moment you felt him against you, everything blurred together and you couldn’t even figure out what was going on. You were alone, he was there for what felt like a magical moment, and then you were alone again. Shrugging, you groan and bury your face into your hands. Seriously? He could have been the perfect man to break your dry spell with and now you’re not going to be able to even think about anyone else because you’ll be too busy dreaming about what it would have been like to be broken by what felt like a God.

“Of course, I’m going to obsess over this mystery man.” You grumble to yourself as you take a sip of your cocktail, staring out into the crowd as if you could catch a glimpse of him.

Tsk, what crappy luck.

“What-”

“Shut it.”

“Chris, wow, she was-”

Felix’s back meets the brick wall with Chris’ nose almost touching his, the younger is now on the tips of his toes thanks to the hold he’s in. The older wolf is breathing heavily, almost like he’s gulping down the outside air to get rid of her scent. “Don’t fucking say it, you hear me? Don’t even think it. If you say anything to anyone about what just happened then I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to you.” The image is vivid and Felix nods before Chris shoves away from him and storms off in the direction of the car.

Chris doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about her. He doesn’t want to think about the way she looked, the way she smelled, oh, the way she could have tasted. The last thing that Chris wants to think about right now is her, especially when his body is coiled and ready to stalk back into that club so that he can drag her out. Kiss her. Claim her.

Do everything that he’s refused to do.

Chris has been talking to her, has been in the same space as her a few times now, and never, not once, had he thought about her afterward… Well, actually, that’s a lie, isn’t it? He has thought about her but it wasn’t anything serious, just a few thoughts here and there. Sure, he couldn’t get her scent out of his system whenever he was there but that’s because it was always mixed in with the bakery. How could he get rid of it when he would be surrounded by it the moment he walked into the bakery and then had it linger on the packaging that she’d give him? There’s no other reason as to why he can pick it up anywhere he’s been, not one… Fuck! He should have known it from the moment he saw her, from their first conversation, he hated the way that she was so taken by Felix and his angelic sweetness; he should have known but the Alpha was far too preoccupied with everything else going on that it just didn’t register.

It all hit him like a fucking freight train when he saw her tonight though. The way her outfit fit her perfectly, making her look like one of the delicious treats her sister makes so well, something to be savoured, tasted only with the finest palate because everything about her is perfection and deserves only the best. Try as he might, Chris could not deny the overwhelming jealousy that had reared its ugly head when Minho stopped to talk to her – which got even worse when Chris could pick up on his scent still lingering on her skin when he got close.

It still bothers him actually. It bothers him that out of all the people in the club, Minho somehow managed to single her out and spoke to her – despite how he clearly made her sister feel. She seemed to have a normal reaction, a reaction that a prey would have around a predator because something in the back of their mind knows that danger is close, that a monster, a killer, is nearby… would she think that about him?

She didn’t seem to have the same reaction that her sister did, she didn’t recoil from him but instead flashed the prettiest smile until he said something that wiped it from her soft lips…

Jesus, fuck, he needs to stop thinking about her.

Chris shakes his head, refusing to let those thoughts continue their rampage on his mind. He’s thinking about Minho speaking to her and what purpose he had for it, not thinking about how she might have felt or marvelling at her beauty.

Damn, Chris, get your head on straight.

It’s like Chris couldn’t keep himself away from her when she walked onto the dance floor; she had walked right past him and didn’t even notice him but it honestly didn’t matter because he was zoned in on her. So much so, that when her body started moving so flawlessly, she was a siren and Chris was nothing more than a helpless sailor diving into the deep to answer her call. Of course, he lies to himself about how he didn’t want to touch her right away, he didn’t want to claim ownership right then and there even though… his wolf knows that he wanted to. He knew that he couldn’t claim her right there, that she needed to come to him, to open up to him, accept his advances for him to cave, and when she did – everything clicked into place.

He never thought it would feel like that. He never thought that someone could feel like an extension of himself but now that he knows… How can he possibly forget that feeling?

She’s going to be his downfall, his destruction, and fuck, he doesn’t know whether he actually wants to fight it.

Anyone would think that Chris realising that this woman is his mate would mean that he’d dote on her, that he’d go out of his way to make her day better.

No. Oh, lordy no.

Despite how much his body is drawn to her, no matter how badly his wolf calls for her in the back of his mind, the Alpha refuses to give in to the pull of his mate and since she isn’t aware, sweetly oblivious to the supernatural world and werewolves, it makes it easier for him to remove the obstacle. Well, the easiest way to get rid of her, to stop their paths from crossing, would be to stop ordering those delicious treats from the bakery, to stop going and collecting them for the chance to see her, but Chris refuses to be weak.

He is also an idiot who seems to not understand that always doing things the hard way isn’t going to get him ahead.

Fighting a mate bond, even one that hasn’t been established, is one of the stupidest things a wolf can do. Even if they reject their mates, a wolf will always feel that bond because it’s predestined, something that really isn’t within their control but who is going to tell him that?

“You’re coming with me.” Chris orders, turning to look at Felix who is sitting next to him in the car. He was stopping to pick up his order before they had to go and see one of the visiting Alphas; Chris has decided that he’s going to keep placing this order because, after today, the sweet scented woman will never want to see him again and he can move on with his life. It’ll be easy after this, in and out, or he can send Felix – an idiot’s plan but what is he? He can’t reject her, that wouldn’t really work and the Alpha knows that so he needs to make sure that their paths cross as little as possible, don’t let her become more of a temptation than she already is, and there’s one way that he can do that.

He just needs to make her look and feel like a fool. 

Ever since day one, he’s allowed her to believe that Felix was him, he’s played into it the entire time because while he hated the way that her smile would light up whenever she spoke about the beta – it meant that he could pretend that she would smile whenever she talked about him too. A smile so contagious that his own lips curl up as he thinks about it until he remembers why he’s here.

Chris knows that this would make her dislike him, hate him even, because while he hates the cursed apps and is often teased for being a dinosaur – he found her dating profiles the other day. On accident, or so he says. He had read it and found out her name, her age, and her Instagram, something he also decided to check out and spent way too much time looking at. He researched this woman, his destined mate, Y/N – that’s your name and during his research, Chris managed to find out that not only did you dislike it when men didn’t make the effort to make plans, you also hate when people pick on and tease other people.

You’re so soft, so sweet, fuck, you’re everything he isn’t. Isn’t it perfect? He can be everything you hate and that would be enough for the bond to remain as a faint tug in the back of his mind. The more he ignores it, the more you stay away from him, the easier it’ll get and he can carry on with life as he always has.

“Let’s go.” He grumbles, getting out of the car and slamming the door a little too aggressively while Felix throws him a look of concern. The younger wolf knows that something is going on but because Chris isn’t going to open up and tell anyone what it is – he goes along with it even if he can tell that his Alpha is on edge.

Not… bad. No, it’s not like how he is when Minho is around or whenever Chris is pulled into a meeting with the other Alphas. There’s just something there, lurking beneath the surface, that has Chris’ jaw tense and fingers flexing at his sides like he’s ready to fight.

“Hello, welcome to- oh!” Your voice raises an octave when you realise who has walked into the bakery, “You’re early! Chris! Hey!” Chris tries to avoid looking at you directly, which would be funny if this was any other reason but he just knows that the moment he sees your smile, the smile that makes your eyes sparkle like they hold all the stars within them, he will lose his resolve to do this.

He can’t. He needs to do this. You are not made for this world and besides, he doesn’t want a mate, he’s never wanted a mate and because of that – it’s better this way.

Felix is already at the counter, chatting away to you while Chris takes a deep breath and pushes down all the guilt that bubbles up in his throat, reminding himself that this is for the best. If he tells himself enough, he may convince his wolf to believe it. His eyes meet yours as if you were waiting for him to look at you, and a cocky smirk spreads across his lips as he makes his way over to the counter. Leaning against it, getting close, Chris looks you up and down before holding your gaze, “Say my name again, sugar.”

“Say my name again, sugar” It takes you a moment to register what he has said because you’re still confused about how quickly he just changed up. One minute it looked like he didn’t want to be there, like he didn’t want to get anywhere near you which was strange. You have never had a man actively avoid you like that except your ex in university who had fucked up so badly that being anywhere near you would have resulted in bodily harm. The man had been hanging back, avoiding your eyes, not engaging with you in any way but now?

You blink a couple of times and look at the man who you think is Chris, tilting your head like he might give you some insight about what is going on but he’s now avoiding looking at you, looking guilty. While you do not know these men outside of the few interactions you’ve shared with them in the bakery – you can tell that something is going on and you’re the only one not privy to what it is.

“C’mon,” the man folds his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you as if you’re not understanding him. He must know that this is so out of the left field, right? He must know that anyone would be confused by the way he’s going about this because he couldn’t have switched up that quickly… could he? You don't actually know this man, you don't even know his name so judging him based on the small interactions they’ve had in the past is a mistake when he could be the complete opposite. “You seem like a smart woman, surely you’ve figured out my name by now.” It’s a statement, not a question, implying you should know.

You look at him, brows furrowed in confusion, before shaking your head and taking a small step back. “No?” You answer slowly, drawing out the sound of the word. “You’ve never told me your name.”

There’s a glint behind his eyes, as if he’s seen a weakness in you that he can now exploit and his lip curls up into something that’s more like a sneer than a smirk. “Who is the order for, sugar?”

“Christopher Bang.” You answer in the same confused tone, looking over at ‘Chris’ for help with this questioning but the man is looking like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. His hands are playing with the front of his shirt while his blonde locks fall into his eyes as he looks at the other man. Whatever is going on, he wishes he didn’t have to witness it and that doesn’t bode well for you.

The man nods his head, continuing with his game. “And who is Christopher Bang?”

“Ch-” The blonde is about to say something but a warning growl rumbles through the other’s chest and he shuts his mouth quickly, looking down while chewing his bottom lip. This raises more alarm bells in her head, the type that should warn you to back away before you fall into the trap set up by the predator before you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice not sounding as strong as you want it to be. You don't want to play whatever weird game he’s trying to get you to participate in. You were actually excited to see the both of them but now, you just want him to get his shit and leave. You may be sweet, you may be the softest petal on a rose but you tire quickly of the games men play. If you aren't going to let your ex make a fool of you then you’re not going to let a stranger play with you.

Shaking his head and clicking his tongue almost in disappointment, the man meets your eyes, looking amused out of all things. “I’m asking the questions, sugar, be a good girl and answer them.” Okay, who the fuck does this man think he is? “Who is Christopher Bang?” You look over at the blonde as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world and he scoffs, “and why do you think that?”

You originally had thought that he was nice, hot actually, maybe you had even been working up to asking for his number or flirting to see if he would be interested in the slightest. He looks like he was plucked out of one of your books and dressed like the guy you should avoid but secretly has a heart of gold. Sadly, he’s just radiating the same energy your ex has now and while the switch up is extremely confusing – it’s also extremely disappointing.

Your shoulders rise in a shrug, “because–” Because what? You made the assumption that he was Chris because he always came and grabbed the order so when things changed and someone else collected it, you just went along with it. You were never corrected whenever you spoke about ‘Chris’, you were never told that this man wasn’t who you thought he was and that Chris was in fact someone else. You had made an assumption based on the limited information that was given and was led to believe that you were right because nobody said otherwise.

Oh, those bells are screaming now.

The realisation must have become clear on your burning red face since the man questioning you begins to laugh as you piece it all together. You bite you tongue, unable to curse him out since he’s a customer in the store. As much as you want to, you can’t yell at him and cause a scene but oh, do you really want to do it. You’re sure that if you did, Serena wouldn’t tell you off… maybe… maybe all you have to do is say that he’s been playing you for a fool and your older sister will give him a piece of her mind too. You’re screaming in your head at all the scenarios playing in your mind about how he must have been finding this so entertaining, silly girl on the counter, thinking he was someone else.

God, you must have sounded so stupid!

Asshole!

Bastard!

God, you hate very little things in this world but one of the things that make you angrier than finding out that your ex was cheating on you, is being made to feel like you’re an idiot. You know you look like you’re just a pretty face, someone too sweet and soft for their own good and yes, you’ve had people take advantage of your kindness but you are not a fool. You’re smart, you’re stronger than you look, and having people rub your mistakes in your face like you should have known better when anyone could have done the same – enrages you.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him with as much disdain as you can muster while simultaneously smiling. A forced smile, that much is obvious. Chris, now you can put a name to the face, might think that you’re some kind of fool but you aren't going to let him use this against you or laugh at you like you’re stupid. You refuse to allow this insignificant man to hold something like this in his grasp and wield it like a sword; you’ve dealt with worse men in university, hell, you dated worse men than him. The type of men who view you as someone who is easily torn down, naïve, a target to poke at whenever you make mistakes but you’re not weak, you’ve changed. You refuse to be that girl over something like this so you’re not letting him see that it bothers you but you do allow him to see the icy glare that you’ve perfected over the years.

“Here’s your order.” You say through your grin, boxing everything up and pushing it towards him. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, he can keep waiting for that.

Holding out your hand for the card, telling him the total, you wait to get this over and done with but it seems Chris isn’t finished playing. Just because you don't want to be a part of the game that he’s decided he’s won, for some reason, he still wants to play. “Check the name on the card next time,” he smirks as he places his card in your hand, both of you clutching it while staring at each other for a brief moment. Daggers are being shot from your softer eyes while his darker eyes narrow slightly as he lets out a soft scoff and releases the card. “Next week, I want this order doubled since I’ll be entertaining guests.”

He is just like your ex. Gross.

Rolling your eyes as you type the numbers into the machine and finish paying, you hand the card back to him, “You can make that order online. As you always do.”

“I’m telling you now, you can put it in for me.”

“Sorry,” you smile falsely, “that’s not my job. You can put it through the system properly.” Honestly, you could take the order now and do it for him, you’ve done it many times before whenever someone calls up and orders but since he’s pissed you off, no, he doesn’t get to boss you around like he owns the place. Seriously, who does he think he is?

As if on cue, Serena walks through the doors and looks at the three of them with a questioning brow raised. She had heard parts of the conversation and wanted to make sure you weren't being harassed by the customer. “Sugar,” she says the pet name with an inclination of her head, indicating for you to come with her. “I need your help in the kitchen before we close up, are you alright to come and give me a hand?”

You are thankful that Serena waits and doesn’t leave you with the walking asshole and his suddenly quiet, nameless friend. “If that’s everything,” you mumble, no polite lilt to your voice, no smile that reaches your eyes, just a simple bow of your head as you walk away with the two men watching you go. You shake your head when walking past Serena, not wanting to talk about it right now before pushing through the doors and the moment you’re out of Chris’ view, you scream. You don't care if he hears you, you don't care if he never comes back, you need to get it out before you explode.

“Ugh! What a DICK!”

Chris chuckles when he hears you scream, the sound so loud that even if he was human, he’d have heard it loud and clear. Grabbing the food, he strolls out of the bakery with your curses and insults following after him. Felix walks beside him, looking back at the store but doesn’t bother to say a word until they are both in the car, food placed safely in the back seat.

He can tell that the younger is mulling over his words, the steam is almost coming out of his ears. “What is it, Lix?”

“Did you really have to go that far?” This is the exact question Chris is almost asking himself as it settles into his mind that he has effectively, even if unknowingly, pushed a button that his mate hates enough to name him public enemy number one. He knows he didn’t need to push you that far, that he could have just avoided you and your sweet scent for the entire time that you remained in his town, on his territory, but he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you smiling at him on the street and Chris forgetting where he was, he couldn’t risk you being near him and Chris wanting nothing more than to feel your skin under his fingertips. Chris may not have needed to go to such an extreme but he did have to do something that would mean you’d avoid him as equally as he’s going to avoid you.

Did he really have to go that far? “Yes.” He says gruffly, the good mood he just had dissipating as he starts the car and heads towards the pack house.

Felix doesn’t say a word, he knows better than to question Chris even if he feels like he’s doing the stupidest shit ever. Chris, while not known to often be doing dumb shit, likes to think that everything he does is for a reason. Any action that would be considered personal always seems to cause him some kind of pain but whenever it comes to actions that involve the pack – he never falters in what is before for them. Except now. As much as Chris will argue it, even if the beta won’t bring it up as a way to avoid his Alpha snarling at him and telling him to walk home, Felix knows that Chris finding and accepting his mate is what is best for the pack in so many ways.

First off, it’s no secret that the dude needs to get laid.

The other reason is because wolves are stronger with their mates, werewolf or not, there’s this connection between them and their mates that seems to heighten everything about them. A wolf will find their mate’s attention and care to be healing, having them close makes them stronger and when it comes to the future of the pack – a pup born from a mated couple is blessed by the Moon Goddess. It’s why a lot of the current pack is the way it is because Chris’ parents – mates themselves – made sure to encourage the rest of the pack to find their counterparts.

Everyone does it, and everyone is willing to accept it – except the current Alpha himself.

“Are you sure?” Serena asks, watching you pace through the kitchen, hyping yourself up and giving yourself a not-so-quiet pep talk to get through the day. “It’s okay if you want me to go out and deal with him today.” She knows that this has really been getting to you over the past month and while you try to play it off like you’re okay – every interaction that you have with Chris causes you to scream in the walk-in pantry afterward. Honestly, if they had any mice in there, they definitely would have scurried away and moved out with how intense you had gotten.

Once a week would have been tolerable. Once a week would have meant that all she had to do was deal with Chris coming in and paying for his order before screwing your face up at him as he walked out the door. Once a week should have been all you would have to put up with but it seems this asshole of a man has decided that you need to see him more just to make it clear that you hate him. It’s like he’s a masochist and gets off on the sarcastic responses and cold glares you throw in his direction. Chris has his usual order which he always comes with Felix to collect now, the younger happily chatting away to Serena like a little puppy while Chris keeps saying shit that makes you want to strangle his perfectly biteable neck. He’s somehow decided though, once a week is not enough, and now Chris comes in randomly just because he’s ‘hungry’.

That’s a lie and you both know it.

He comes because he knows that it puts you on guard, it causes your entire body to react to him even when you try your best to ignore his presence and focus on the other customers in the store. You’re sure that he loves it, a Grade A asshole like what you dealt with in class, you can see the smirk on his stupidly plump lips whenever you stutter over certain words and throw daggers in his direction. Chris seems to have found a way to be able to get under your skin even when you try and tell yourself that he means nothing. He’s crawled under and hit every single nerve by simply existing and with every encounter, it messes with your head. Your dreams. Your reality basically because you’re sure that you see him even when you’re out and about.

You need to get this man out of your system before you become insane.

Serena has offered to take over, to deal with him instead but you refuse to seem weak, to run away when he’s clearly doing this as some weird dominance thing – not that it makes sense since you don't care about him. “I’m okay,” you nod your head, jumping up and down on the spot and shaking your hands to try and hype yourself up. Serena can’t help but chuckle at your antics and while there’s this big sister protective urge to deal with Chris, she finds it amusing. 

“This is really giving enemies to lovers, like those books you love to read.” She teases and you gasp in shock that Serena has actually listened to your ramblings about your recent reads – and horror at the suggestion. “I’m just saying!”

“Ew! No!” You shake your head, “no. This is not that! That is hot, sexy, ugh, their slow decline into falling in love while denying that it’s possible– no. He’s not even close to that!” Serena chuckles, humming like she believes you. “He’s not going to win this!”

“Sugar! This isn’t some competition that you can win?” She sounds surprised by your words even though she knows that you refuse, and always have refused, to be beaten by any man. Even after being cheated on, even after having text messages shared throughout your class, you had to come out on top out of spite. Your stubbornness is the reason why you managed to get through university and also making sure this store has been able to flourish in the way that it has.

“Sure it is,” you say as you stop moving and take a deep breath as if you’re about to step into the ring, “clearly he has his head so far up his ass that he thinks he means something. You see the way he walks in here? Like he’s some sort of king and everyone around him is his loyal servant who should drop to their knees and kiss his feet.” You scoff, snatching your apron off the hook and wrapping the strings around your waist to tie it at the back. “I’m not going to let him think that he’s getting to me. Nothing pisses men like him off more than giving back the same attitude that they give to others. He wants to play this game then it’s time to step up and play it better than he can.” You aren't someone who likes to be confrontational, a soft soul who prefers to take the gentle approach but sometimes even the soft ones are pushed to their breaking points.

Serena simply watches as you walk out the front, slightly speechless but mostly amused about the whole situation. There’s no point stopping you and honestly, it’s about time someone has caught your attention – even if it’s in the worst way because Serena has seen you look at those pictures on your phone of your ex that you haven't deleted yet.

Putting on your best smile, you greet the store, even when the man you were just talking about is standing in the store, a basket in his hand as he browses the freshly baked breads. “Good morning, welcome to ‘Everything Nice’.” You don't falter with your overly cheerful tone even if you weren't expecting to deal with him this early in the day. You had barely finished opening the store before heading into the kitchen so Chris must have been hanging around, waiting for that sign to switch from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He’s not getting another win today. Chris will not leave the store with another mark on the proverbial scoreboard against you. Today, you will claim a victory in this war even if it only adds fuel to the fire.

“You’re here early, Chris.”

Why he’s here, he doesn’t know, or that is what he keeps telling himself every single time he enters the store. Chris tells himself that he’s doing this because he needs you to curse his very name, he needs to ruin every and any chance there could be for a bond to form. He could have just left it as it was when he dropped the bomb that day but for some reason, Chris finds himself heading to ‘Everything Nice’ more than he cared to before.

You need to hate him.

He needs to make sure that you hate him.

The food is good.

You smell better than the food.

He just wants to make sure you’re doing okay…

Even though Chris tells his lies to himself and everyone around him, it boils down to the fact that he is the cause of your negative emotions and it has him wanting to make sure that you’re okay. Even when he says things that only cause the fire behind your soft eyes to burn brighter, even when he doesn’t stop himself from acting like a royal ass, Chris needs to be around you even when he’s trying to avoid you.

Unsuccessfully avoid you.

The moment that he sees you walk out in his peripheral vision, it seems like every nerve in his body becomes alive and alert which pushes his own buttons because he’s trying so fucking hard not to respond to you, and yet, his body betrays him. Hearing your voice, the way you’re feigning kindness makes the wolf smirk as he walks over and leans against the counter, meeting your glare head on. “I heard that the bread is even more delicious when freshly baked so I thought I’d grab some to take home for lunch.”

You hum, nodding your head like you care about what he has to say but he can see the temptation to roll your eyes lingering just behind those pretty eyelashes. Fuck, he shouldn’t want to count them, watch them fall softly against your cheeks as you fall asleep in his arms. With the way his thoughts are going, he has to try his best not to give in right then and there when you lean closer. “So you decided to grab it right when the bakery opened?”

Oh, he hears that tone, and hell, he shouldn’t feel proud learning that there’s a fighter underneath all those times you took his shit. He knew you had it in you and now seeing it? Makes you more attractive.

“To be one of the first customers of the day to grab fresh bread? I have a tendency to be the first in everything I do.” He says with an upward quirk of the corner of his lips, the words having a double entendre which you don’t seem to catch onto – or if you do, you don’t show it.

“Mhm, good for you, the bread is over there, Chris. Not here.” You point to the other side of the store before going to the viewing window to grab some fresh baking that Serena has put on the sill.

His jaw ticks slightly as he realises that he’s not going to get the fight that he wants from you. He expected you to get a little more worked up than this but instead, you are effectively brushing him off like an insolent child and Chris refuses to be treated like that. Even if that’s how he’s been acting. Heading over to the bread, he watches as you carefully place the fruit tarts on a tray and slides them into the chilled cabinet sitting under the counter. “What do you recommend?” You pretend not to hear him, humming softly to yourself as Chris chuckles before loudly clearing his throat and asking his question again when you look at him.

A deep sigh leaves your lips, a dramatic rise and fall of your shoulders shows that you’re not really hiding your reactions to his annoyances. You don’t move from your spot, simply looking over at him as you point in the general direction of the bread. “The bacon and cheese pull apart bread is one of our best sellers. You can warm it up and have it with some butter – it doesn’t need anything more than that.”

“What’s your favourite, sugar?”

The use of your nickname, even if he doesn’t know it is, causes you to pause and narrow your eyes ever-so-slightly. You raise an eyebrow, clearly wondering what his angle is, and Chris shrugs nonchalantly, “People tend to speak highly of the things that they like. So, sugar, what is your favourite?” He watches, examining the way that you contemplate answering truthfully before pulling your mask back down and shaking your head, “wonderful customer service.” A low blow and he knows it, he’s the one pushing, being an ass, and you’re simply trying to do her job. “First, you don’t even know my name and have been giving my order to someone else, then you ignore me unless you have to talk to me, and now,” he shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest and he swears he can feel the daggers you’re throwing at him with your eyes. “I’m simply asking a question and you aren’t going to answer it?”

He can faintly hear you grinding your teeth together from where he stands, watching as you try to control yourself but Chris can also hear your heart racing in your chest, the deep breaths that you take – all it’ll take is one more push. If he pushes a little further, he might be able to get you to snap…

“Oh, what about how you were talking shit about me, a loyal customer, while I was in the store?”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks heated up because it was obvious that you didn’t think you were so loud that Chris would have been able to overhear every single word you had said. You weren’t actually, you had managed to contain herself quite well except for that one time, but you didn’t need to know the specifics, right? It would only take away the fun of the tease if you knew that Chris is a werewolf with supernatural hearing.

Grabbing a loaf of the bacon and cheese bread, because that actually does sound pretty delicious and the smell of the bacon is making him salivate, Chris walks to the counter with the basket of food that he’s collected. “So, what do you have to say for yourself, hm?” He says in a mocking tone, sounding like a father reprimanding his child.

“What?” You ask, shocked he would talk to you like that. Your shock fades almost immediately and you scoff, folding your arms over your chest, and glare pointedly at him, “Do you want an apology or something?”

Humming, Chris smirks with a nod, “Sure, if you don’t mind, sugar~.”

Opening your mouth as if you were about to answer, Chris is left disappointed when you close it again and begin to pack up the food. “Your order won’t be ready until later today but if you would like, your friend Felix can come and collect it for you. Since I know who he is now, at least we both know it’ll reach you. Chris.” You pass over the bag and Chris takes it before you drop it, trying to avoid accidentally touching his hand at all costs.

“That won’t be necessary.” He smiles kindly, knowing it’s only going to annoy you even more, “I’ll be back at my usual time to collect.”

“Great.” You utter under your breath before finishing up with him and turning back to your work, while Chris heads to the car feeling like he had just won. Maybe it’s not a sweet victory like the previous times, this time you had given him a bit more of a push back but oh, seeing how you react when he’s close makes him feel victorious.

He should leave you alone now. He knows he should. There’s no reason for him to keep coming around now, especially since you obviously don’t want to see him. This should be it, this should be the end of it all…No, it will be. Chris nods as he sits in his car momentarily to remember your scent. He takes a moment to remember every small thing about you, even if you hate him now, he wants to remember all he can because today is the last day he steps foot into ‘Everything Nice.’

You didn’t know it was going to be the ‘last time’ that you’d see him. You couldn’t have guessed that when he came back to collect his order that final time, everything in your life was about to change. You had no idea that Chris hanging around the bakery, annoying you, and pushing your buttons was actually the main reason why you were safe but also a target for something that you could never have prepared for.

All you want is to get him in and out as quickly as you can. The moment you see the man walk through the door, you are packing up his order and placing it on the counter before he can arrive. You’re focused, refusing to acknowledge any of his little quips that are about to come but it surprises you when Chris simply hands over his card without a single word. 

No quips, no mocking, nothing at all.

“Nothing to say?” You ask, unable to help yourself from starting a fight. You usually wouldn’t, you typically prefer to keep the peace but being so close to this man makes you want to fight without any reason to pick one. Swiping the card, you input the amount and push the machine towards Chris but instead of responding, he shrugs his shoulders without even glancing at you. You take the moment of silence to look him over, noticing that his posture is stiff, uncomfortable and there’s a tick in his jaw that is ridiculously too attractive for a man with his attitude. Everything about him right now is the opposite of the man who acted like he owned the place. He looks like he can’t wait to get out of there just as quickly as you want him gone.

But, that’s the problem.

You want him gone. You want him out and now that it looks like he does too, you want him to pick a fight. Nobody has gotten such a reaction from you since university, since your ex and you swore you wouldn’t resort to that type of low again…

“Are you really not going to say anything?” You pushed, your brow furrowed slightly in both annoyance and confusion. Chris spares you a look before letting out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it the whole time; grabbing his order, he pauses for a moment like he’s about to say something but decided against it. He turns his broad back on you so he can leave and you scoff, shaking your head, hell no, you’re not letting him just walk away like this!

You move quickly from behind the counter, grabbing him by the bicep before he makes it to the door. “Let go.” Chris pulls his arm back with enough force to loosen your hold and goes for the exit before you can chase after him – it doesn’t mean you don't though.

Chris has barely made it a few metres from the store, clearly trying to get away as fast as he can before he halts due to you calling out his name. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t look over his shoulder. No, he simply stands in the street with his back to you while you speak. “After everything this morning, after everything these last few weeks, you’re really going to just… give up?” You sound so desperate, a whine to your voice that almost sounds pained and you can’t understand why. This is what you’ve been wanting ever since he started to act like a right ass but you can’t just let this go, not when it started out of nowhere and seems to have ended just as abruptly.

You need something more. An explanation. A reason.

Somewhere along the way, even though you refuse to voice it, you started to look forward to fighting with Chris. A sick little game being played that made you so mad but when life follows the same script every day – even a negative change can help you feel alive. Sure, he pisses you off and you’ll say you hate him but your life has been so quiet lately, mundane, following the same routine over and over again, and the fighting seemed to give you something that was different from your norm. Somewhere along the way, you had started to rely on the rush that you got every time you fought, just to feel something more than boredom.

God, you sound like you need to go to therapy.

While you and Chris are standing there, neither of you speaking, simply remaining in place, neither notices that you are being watched. You never expected to be watched so you wouldn’t have been keeping an eye out for it but Chris should have been aware of the attention that he was bringing you. Himself. Neither of you notice that there’s a small group hiding just out of plain sight and watching the way the Alpha is frozen, clearly struggling to leave his mate behind. You’re so unaware of the connection between you but yet, you can’t let him go.

A smirk spreads across a wolf’s lips, a snicker coming from the man next to him while the other blows out a lung full of smoke and tosses his cigarette onto the ground while scowling at the scene. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice rough and gravely.

Minho nods, keeping quiet for a moment longer until Chris begins to walk away and you stand there, watching a little while longer before giving up and heading back inside, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m positive. I didn’t know it when I met her at the club that night. Funnily enough, I thought she was Felix’s mate with the way that beta was always going to the bakery but it seems the Alpha was having his second in command act as a delivery boy.” The man moves out from the hiding spot that gives them the perfect view of the bakery, “Chris has been going there a lot more than he needs to. Knowing him, he’s reasoning with himself as to why he needs to be around her but clearly, he’s pushing her away.” The scene they just saw shows that Chris isn’t being overly accepting to his mate – which is what they had expected.

“As expected,” another rouge beta, Seungmin, says as he watches Chris’ car pull into traffic and head in the direction of the pack house. “He’s predictable, he always has been.” Seungmin had followed Minho out of the pack that day because while believed in Chris as an Alpha, he knew that the wolf’s stubbornness and refusal to change was going to be his downfall – and the pack’s.

The wolf that was smoking, a beta from another pack and one Chris had personal issues with for many different reasons, walks out from the shadows to stand beside Minho. He hums in thought, looking at the bakery while scratching his chin. A scar runs from his upper lip down the side of his face, his calloused hand running over it as he scratches. “Has he responded to the challenge?”

Minho snorts, “only to tell me to go and fuck myself.”

“He’s fucking insufferable,” the wolf growls, rolling his dark eyes. “When are the packs meeting again about the hunters? Tomorrow, right?” Minho nods, “Go to it and tell Chris he has until the next full moon. He either takes his mate or he takes the challenge.”

Seungmin counts the days in his head, tilting it as he looks at the older wolves, “why are we giving him a month to decide?” One look from Minho silences him but it doesn’t stop him from rolling his eyes in annoyance. He doesn’t understand why they are dragging this out when they could walk up to the pack house’s front door and challenge him now.

“All in good time,” the eldest speaks, giving a cruel smile and showing his fangs as he looks at you as you come out to check on the front of the store. “Everything will be revealed soon.”

You want to say that after a few weeks without seeing Chris your disdain and dislike for him has started to simmer down and that you have started to forget about the arrogant son-of-a-bitch but no. How can it settle when you have to see Felix and be reminded about the way Chris embarrassed you and then continued to poke fun at such an easy mistake? It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a little teasing, a little prod, and a giggle when he had realised your mistake but instead, for an entire month, he allowed you to believe the sweet, freckled ray of sunshine was someone else and from the way that Felix looked uncomfortable that day, made him go along with it too.

That made it so much worse.

“Ah,” you rub your hand over your face in frustration as you sit down on your bed. You need to stop thinking about him, you want to stop but it seems that he’s gotten under your skin so bad that you’ve begun to obsess about him.

You look at the time and notice that you have about an hour before it’s time to think about dinner so you decide that you’ll go for a walk to clear your head. It’s been something that you’ve picked up since moving to this town because with all your friends living in the city and your life there being only accessible during the weekends, you have nothing better to do.

Well, you could read your books but that’s not fun when all you’re thinking about is him.

The town is pretty enough, the beach not that far from where you live, which means on nice evenings, you take your walk down there to enjoy the pretty golden sunsets before heading back home. It’s been getting better and even prettier to see as the days warm up and the spring slowly moves towards the summer.

So, with a gentle push up, you start to change into the cute lilac purple activewear that you’ve been wearing lately as it gives you enough mobility to run when you want to but also isn’t super heavy where you’re sweating too much. “Where are you going?” Serena asks, poking her head into your room when she hears all the movements. “Are you heading down to the beach?” You hum, stretching a little before heading towards her, “What time will you be back?”

Raising an eyebrow, you look at her suspiciously, “Why?” You ask, narrowing your eyes. You have an inkling that Serena has been going on dates and not telling you about it because she’s been a little bit secretive lately but you haven't asked. You may be close but you do like to keep certain things to yourselves and Serena’s dating life is one of the topics that are usually locked up in a vault.

“No reason,” she shrugs before making her way towards the kitchen where she already has dinner cooking, “I can leave yours in the oven if you’re not back in time.”

Simply humming in response, you give her a kiss on the cheek, “thank you”, before going to put your running shoes on and heading out the door. It takes you until you reach the bottom of the stairs to realise you’ve forgotten your headphones. “Oh-” you rush back to your room with Serena yelling after you about your shoes. “I’m just grabbing my headphones!” You shout back before running out on your tiptoes to try and minimise the amount of shoe touching the clean floor. “I’ll clean the floor tomorrow!”

With your playlist designed to get you energised blasting your favourite songs through your eardrums, you walk with purpose down the road, dancing to the choreography that you know and lip-syncing like you’re giving the world a concert. You love it when it’s like this, where you couldn’t care less about who is around you, like the world is yours to own and you don't need to be overly aware of what’s around you.

You love it but it does tend to make you blind to what’s coming.

Nothing could touch you when you’re walking like you have all the confidence in the world and it’s amusing to watch really, how there’s a little bounce in your steps, a word or two accidentally being sung with you realising too late and you go back to mouthing the lyrics with a passion. You do miss being in the studio, dancing your heart out, and performing on weekends but you haven't been able to find a space to facilitate that in town.

“Adorable.” Minho chuckles as he shoves his hands into his pockets and glances around before slipping off the path and making a shortcut through the trees so that he can get to the beach before you.

You’re unaware, oblivious to what dangers Chris has brought into your life and even if you were told, you wouldn’t really believe him anyway, especially not after everything. Maybe not ever unless you see it with your eyes.

Even then…

The beach starts to open up before you, the reeds and dunes making way for the large expanse of the clear blue sea and white sand. You take a deep breath and inhale the salty scent of the water that has become one of your favourite smells because it is so far removed from the smell of the city that you feel so revitalised and calm. Sure, you miss the city, the life and luxuries that you had there but there’s something about it here that feels so right and you love it. “Amazing,” you say to yourself before going to one of the large, sun-bleached tree trunks that have become popular seats for people who simply want to watch the rolling waves.

Taking your headphones out and placing them back into their case, you turn on the trunk and lie down with your eyes closed, listening to the sounds of pure peace around you. There are no families on the beach today, no sounds of children laughing or people shouting at their young ones to be careful while playing in the water – just the sounds of crashing waves and seagulls.

“Roman!” Your brows wrinkle when a man’s voice ruins your peace, “bad dog! Come back here!”

Your leg had been hanging over the side of the trunk and clearly, this man’s dog has decided that it needs to investigate who you are, sniffing the bare skin of your calf and causing you to sit up with a slight giggle. You're ticklish.

“Roman,” the name is said with a slight growl to his tone that has both the big, golden, shaggy dog and you looking at him, “get here!” He points at his side and the dog walks towards him with his tail in between his legs, making you pout softly.

Pushing off the seat, you smile kindly at the man who is looking sternly at his dog, “Hey, he’s okay. He’s just a curious boy trying to make a new friend.” You crouch down by the dog and hold out your hand, allowing him to come to you for a nice scratch behind the ears. “See,” your voice raises an octave, “you’re a good boy.”

When the owner gets close enough to pull the dog’s attention away from you, leashing Roman to keep him from running off again, you smile before something clicks in your brain. You’ve seen this man before, you’re certain of it, you can’t quite pinpoint it and it’s a little annoying but from the bells in your head and the smirk he wears – you know you’ve crossed paths before.

How come you can’t pinpoint it right away?

“He likes you,” the man says, catching your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts. “He’s not usually so friendly with new people.”

Chuckling softly, you smile sweetly, “You and me both, Roman.” Which is… not entirely true. You’re pretty friendly to everyone, that's the reason why your nickname is Sugar but you’ve always been a little hesitant to be fully open with people – especially after what happened.

Thanks to…

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” The man blatantly lies – not that you know that. “Do you come to the beach often?”

You’re a little cautious with sharing your comings and goings with a complete stranger so you just hum, giving him a tight smile, “now and again. It’s been nice lately so I couldn’t miss out on seeing it.” As you talk, a chill runs up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, usually a warning that you need to leave even if there aren't any obvious dangers.

There’s something about this guy that has you feeling slightly on edge and you can’t figure out why. You’re pretty intuitive and prides yourself on it most of the time, usually able to spot a problematic person from a mile away but lately, it’s been acting up so you don’t know if there’s really a reason – or if it’s just because you are alone and there’s nobody around.

As if Serena knows that you may need saving, your phone starts to ring and stops the conversation from going further. “Oh, I’m sorry. I have to take this.” The man backs away as you answer the phone, using the call as a good excuse to walk away while speaking, only looking back to smile and wave. “You have no idea how glad I am you are calling,” you say when you think that you’re out of earshot, glancing over your shoulder and moving quickly when you catch him still standing there and watching you leave. “No, no, I’m okay…” You’re not sure if you fully believe it since your blood is pumping through your veins and adrenaline is kicking in to move your feet faster back towards the safety of your home.

Serena stays on the phone the whole time until you walk in the door, “What is his name and what does he look like? I’m going to call the police.” You jump, caught off guard by her voice being louder than it was on the phone and also by how quick she is to involve the authorities.

“Oh my God, you don’t need to call the cops, Spice. He was harmless! It was just…” You sit down to get rid of your shoes, tossing them in front of you. “I don’t know. It was just weird.”

This causes the woman to go into a full rant about how men who are weird don’t just stare at people walking away from them, that’s what stalkers do and for all you know, he could have been following you for days until you were alone. Neither of you are aware of how right Serena is – or how close to it she’s actually getting with her accusations – because he has been studying your every move and now that Chris isn’t around to keep Minho away, he’s going to come back.

In a different way, he realised this when he watched you practically run away from him at the beach. Approaching you alone isn’t going to gain your trust like he wants, he wants you to feel comfortable enough to talk to him and the best way to do that is through the same method Chris used.

The bakery.

A game is about to be played, a game you aren't aware you’re going to be playing until it’s too late, and even if you somehow managed to figure it all out before their hand is shown, you’ll still be playing regardless.

You are the key piece.

You’re the piece that both sides need but only one can have.

You are either going to be Chris’ downfall or his salvation and since he’s taken himself out of the game, or thinks he has, you are now free for the opposition to claim.

To use.

Chris leans back in his seat, straightening out the newspaper in his hands as he sips his morning black coffee. A sigh passes through his lips when he hears someone running into his house, “The rogues are here.” One of the betas says as they enter the dining room, bringing in mud from the outside on their shoes since they had been in too much of a rush to take them off. “There’s… Alpha Chris, there’s more of them than last time.”

This isn’t news to Chris or any of the other Alphas. Lately, the rogues have been teaming up. Nothing that could be considered a pack, or even compared to one, but definitely more than what they usually do. Minho and Seungmin have been collecting strays and bringing them around more and more, every time challenging Chris and posing empty threats.

Little does he know, soon, they won’t be so empty.

“Alpha?”

Chris hums, still looking at the newspaper and reading about an accident last night, “What?”

“Did you not hear what I said?”

Clicking his tongue, the wolf closes the newspaper and looks over at his beta, lips in a hard line. The younger wolf clearly recognises his expression as that of annoyance and from the bags under his eyes, exhaustion, since the rogues have been coming and going constantly. “I did.” He pushes away from the table and stands up, stretching with a groan and a couple of cracks since the morning is still too early for his body to want to be awake. “I’ve heard this far too often because it seems that these rogues don’t know when they’ve overstayed their welcome.”

He’s tolerated them for a while now, mostly due to him still missing two of his betas, but they are progressively getting more and more on his nerves. Especially when they’ve been trying to rally support from the other packs to try and use it as some kind of legitimacy to their challenge.

While there are some of the other Alphas who agree that Chris needs to take on a mate or accept the challenge, they all agree that it is ultimately up to Chris on the direction that he and his pack are going to take. “Though, if the next meeting comes around and you haven’t figured it out, we will make the choice for you.” Chris scoffs as he remembers one of the elder Alpha’s words. So much for agreeing it was his choice. Usually, they don’t like getting involved in how other packs are run but they will take action if they have to especially if there is cause for concern – apparently, rogues working together is enough of a reason for them to start getting nervous and poke their noses into Chris’ business.

As the Alpha walks outside, Minho at the head of the group of rogues who are all standing behind him, Chris notices something that does not match the scene. “I brought you something,” Minho smirks as he holds out the box of cupcakes that Chris knows far too well, the sweet smell causing his nose to twitch in response as if he’s trying to pick out your scent amongst the strong scent of strawberry icing.

Fuck, he’s missed that smell.

There’s a deep growl emitting from Chris’ chest, so deep, so guttural that everyone except Minho stumbles back a step as he stalks forward – though, he can tell by the shift in Minho’s scent that the younger is still smart enough to be intimidated by the Alpha.

However, clearly not smart enough to not taunt him.

“Why do you have those?” Chris growls, careful not to knock Serena’s hard work out of his hands and waste them.

Minho shrugs, opening the box and taking a cupcake out, taking his time to eat it in front of him. Chris could rip his throat out right then and there and he knows that, but with the audience that they now have, the older wouldn’t let his anger get in the way of his pride. “She’s cute, you know.” Minho says thoughtfully as he chews, “She thinks you’re a right fucking asshole and well, it makes her smart too, I guess.”

Chris grits his teeth, his eyes flashing gold as he holds onto his anger tightly but not enough that it doesn’t show through in minute ways. “What. Have. You. Done?” He enunciates the words through a tightly clenched jaw while Minho leisurely eats another cupcake.

From what Chris recalls, nothing has been going on in the little bakery, everything has been going just fine and there hasn’t been any unusual visitors coming and going but it seems that Minho has been able to be around you without Chris’ surveillance picking up on it. Yes, he is fully aware that he refused to go back to the bakery again but he didn’t ever say anything about making sure that you were left alone regardless of you knowing or not – you’re still his mate. He may not want to claim you but he won’t reject you either because… he simply doesn’t want to.

He refuses to explain further to anyone even himself, while it may not even work due to you being a human, he refuses to reject you because there’s a small, teeny tiny part of him that wants to be able to accept you. He wants you, every fibre in his body screams for you when he sees you from afar, his wolf growls darkly in the back of his head when he hears your name on someone else’s lips, and when he catches a whiff of your scent in any store he happens to walk into – fuck, he nearly goes out to search for you.

The longer he keeps himself away, the harder it is to resist you and that’s why he cannot be around you, as twisted as his logic seems to be.

The moment his hands are on you – you’re not leaving him ever again and that’s the excuse he’ll use as to why he cannot be near you. He cannot lock you into a life that he knows will only destroy everything that you have because what nobody seems to understand is that Chris won’t simply protect his mate – he will bring the world to its knees for you. This life isn’t as magical as books might make it seem, it’s surrounded by darkness and the last thing Chris would ever do is taint the light that he can feel residing within you with everything that goes bump in the night. He’d destroy it and himself to keep you safe.

Chris has known this ever since his first girlfriend, ever since he first fell in love, he would destroy anyone who dared to hurt her. His father had to tear a teenage Chris off a packmate when they had the audacity to scare his girlfriend at the time and thus began Chris needing to learn how to control himself better. He had to learn how to manage his anger, how to deal with his wolf’s more aggressive nature because training to be an Alpha is a hard journey and if he couldn’t contain his most primal behaviours as a teenager – he’d steer the pack into a dangerous future when he took over.

So, he did his best. While he’s not perfect, not by a long shot, he has a bad temper most of the time and he will absolutely throw the first punch – Chris tries his best to keep himself in check so he wouldn’t take the pack down the road that his parents feared he would.

Is it hard? Hell yes, but Chris is determined.

When Minho lost his mate, the reaction that he had, both confirmed and solidified the reason why Chris couldn’t accept his mate when he found them. If he would cave in the skull of a packmate for simply scaring his girlfriend when he was 16, what would he do to those who killed his mate? What lengths would he go to to avenge his fallen lover?

Would he be able to stop even after the war had been won?

No. He knows he wouldn’t be stopped unless he was killed and considering he’s a fucking good Alpha – he refuses to leave the pack without one… even if it means holding off giving the pack an heir.

“Minho.” Chris growls, getting in the other’s face when he doesn’t answer, “the fuck did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” the younger smiles, not averting his eyes from Chris’ as if he is challenging the Alpha. He’s not. Yet, at least. “You’ve left her unattended except for when your second goes and picks up the order you always keep. I was curious to know why you were so attached to that bakery and then I discovered a sweet little lamb called Sugar~.” He gives a wolfish grin, tilting his head. “It wasn’t exactly hard to figure everything out after that.”

Minho has known for a while but Chris doesn’t need to know that otherwise, it would throw off their entire plan. Sure, part of the plan isn’t to turn the entire pack against their Alpha but with the way that the pack is, he isn’t surprised that some of the wolves that have gathered around are intrigued by what he’s saying.

“Does she know?” Minho asks, a twinkle in his eyes showing that he’s loving this, the struggle of Chris keeping himself together. “Does she know what you are and what she is to you?” He can feel the rage rolling off Chris in waves, so strong that some of the wolves around him are responding, either by moving away from their Alpha or growling at those who are the cause of the problem. Looking around at the confused and curious wolves, Minho moves closer to Chris, closing any distance that they had between them, and bares his teeth. “Do they know that you’ve been hiding her?”

There’s silence, the sound of Chris’ heavy breathing is all that can really be heard as he tries his best not to tear his former friend’s throat out.

“When?” Chris grits the word out through tightly clenched teeth. “When the fuck do you want to do this?”

Pretending to think about it, Minho strokes his chin, humming for a moment before simply saying, “Next full moon. One month.”

Nodding once, Chris accepts. “You’ll stay away from her.”

Minho indicates for the other rogues to leave using a simple head gesture that causes them all to push past the pack that has surrounded them. They are greatly outnumbered but they weren’t here for a fight so it doesn’t really bother them if the others were trying to intimidate them by boxing them in, none of them have the same fire that Chris has. “No guarantees.” Minho says confidently, turning his back on Chris to leave with the others.

Chris watches, shoulder rising and falling with his shallow inhales, staring daggers into the back of Minho’s head until his view is blocked by Felix. He knows that everyone is going to want answers, answers that he’s not ready to give, not right now.

Was this part of Minho’s plan? What the fuck is his plan considering the other must know that he would not be able to win in a fight against Chris? No matter how strong Minho is, Chris has always been stronger and on a full moon – even greater so.

“Chris,” Felix pulls his attention away from the retreating rogues and back to his pack who are all waiting for answers.

“No.”

Felix grabs his arm to keep him from leaving and the younger nearly gets his hand broken for such an insolent action. “You can’t just leave after what just happened.” The others all mumble in agreement and Chris can feel a headache forming, “I had my suspicions but… you said she meant nothing.”

“You found your mate and didn’t tell us?” One of the other betas, Jaehyun, steps forward, looking pissed. “Seriously, Chris?” One warning growl from the Alpha has everyone stopping what they are saying or about to say but it doesn’t stop them from looking to him for an explanation, wanting to know he’s refused to take his mate when he’s found you.

“I did it for a good reason.” He says definitively, pushing past everyone even though he can still hear them muttering their disapproval of his actions and their disappointment in their Alpha.

Was this the whole reason Minho came here? There’s something sinister about what they have planned because Minho is one of the only people who knows why Chris won’t take a mate and yet, he’s pushing it. He’s even willing to turn the Alpha’s pack against him to force Chris into doing what he wants. Is that why he challenged Chris? Thinking that the older wouldn’t take the challenge in fear of losing everything?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs as he walks back into the house and heads straight to his room to lie down and rest. There are far more questions than answers and with all the noise that’s going on and the minds he now needs to ease and explanations he has to give, Chris needs to rest before his head fucking explodes from all the tension that’s building.

He’s going to kill him, he thinks as his head hits the pillow, what for? Chris doesn’t know which reason he’ll use but he knows that if Minho continues down this dangerous path, one filled with mystery and games, Chris will have no choice but to kill him.

Even if he doesn’t want to.

He refuses to let a rogue best him, no matter whom it is and what they had meant to him once upon a time.

You hear the doorbell chime and look up with your signature smile, laughing softly at the man who is walking into the store holding an iced coffee, smothered with whipped cream, just how you like it. “You are a quick study,” you basically skip out from behind the counter to meet him. “I’ve been dying all morning since I haven’t been able to have my sweet, sweet caffeine.”

Minho laughs, shaking his head at the way you nearly down the entire cup while you walk back to the other side, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. “You know, with the amount of coffee you drink a day, I’m surprised you aren’t breaking the sound barrier when you walk.” His teasing tone has you laughing loudly with him and pushing his arm before you sip it slower. “How has today been?”

You get to chatting about the day and how slow it’s been, only leaving his side whenever someone comes in to buy some food but he doesn’t mind, you’ve learned that he seems to enjoy the way you’ll smile at customers and get them to buy a little treat for themselves even if it is at a discounted price so that they can avoid having any wastage at the end of the day.

Minho, while strange at first with his habit of coming to the beach at the same time you did, has quickly become one of, if not your only, friends in this small town. He’s shown you some of the best places to get coffee and delivers it to you on days when you seem too tired to function, he’ll drag you out of the house and take you to quiz nights which you’ve learnt he sucks at but still goes every time, and he never makes you feel like utter shit whenever he teases you. There’s always a lightheartedness to his teasing, nothing that degrades your intelligence or pokes fun at you for not having picked up on something, he teases you about how sometimes you wear odd socks or that you drink the milkiest, sweetest coffees to stay alive.

In a few short weeks, Minho went from being a stranger on the beach to being a good friend who you actually enjoyed being around. You don’t know anything about his intentions, he’s never given you a reason to question his motives for befriending you, and there’s no suspicion about him hiding something from you. All you know is that he’s funny, he listens and he takes the time to bring you coffee and talk about the day.

“You want to come to a party this weekend?” Minho asks after you serve a customer, still smiling as you look over at him, “A friend of mine is having a house party and I thought you might want to go. You said you’ve never been to one before, right?”

This is true, sort of. There was a difference between what you’d seen being thrown at houses in places with the space and getting drunk at a friend’s place before going to the clubs. “When?” You purse your lips, pretending to think about it even though you both know that you’ll say yes because you’ve never been one to turn down an invitation to a party.

“Saturday.”

“Will it be big?”

Thinking about it for a moment, Minho tries to figure out whether he should share exactly who the person hosting the party is but then again, if you know then you might decline. “Yeah, it’s a massive house just out of town, no noise control and you know small towns – everyone shows up eventually.”

You grin, excited, you’ve seen those types of parties in the movies, the rich kids that throw lake parties when their parents are out of town and you can’t help but vibrate with excitement at the thought of doing something like that. Oh, it’s definitely going to be different from what you’ve done before. The reason why they never really did that in the city, choosing to pre-game at home and then going to the clubs is because eventually, noise control turns up and ruins all of the fun. “I’m in!” You bounce on your feet before looking over at the kitchen, “Is it okay if I ask Serena if she wants to come?”

He’s not going to tell her no, Minho knows better than to try and get in between the bond that the sisters have but he knows that the best way for this plan to work is to have you alone rather than under the protective older sister’s watch. She reigns you in, he’s realised, she makes sure that you are being responsible when you want to let loose, he can see it, hiding beneath the surface and all you need is one night – this night in particular – to be free.

It all rests on you letting loose and throwing caution to the wind.

Walking into the kitchen, you see Serena kneading dough with her sleeves rolled up, apron covered in flour, and stand beside her with a childish grin that can only ever be used on a parent or sibling. “Yes?” Serena asks, not even looking at her sister and you lean a little closer, moving into her personal space, “What do you want?”

“Party on Saturday?” You wiggles your eyebrows and leans away when Serena turns to look at you, “Minho said it’s at his friend’s place and that it’s going to be big!”

“If Minho is spending so much time here gossiping, maybe he should grab an apron and help.” She says shortly before huffing out a breath and taking a moment to think about it. She’s looking at you in a way that almost feels like she’s scrutinising you but doesn’t say anything about her younger sister’s new best friend. It’s obvious that she’s worried, of course, she’s happy that you have friends but she’s been suspicious of Minho ever since he started coming around. Maybe she wants to look out for you so you don’t get into a relationship with someone who seems like he’d rather play the field but there’s never been anything romantic with Minho – not that you’ve noticed. “I have plans,” she says finally, your brow furrowing because this is news to you.

“Plans?” You begin to question but Minho’s voice calling from the front has you remembering that you have a job to do. “This is not over~.” You say with a wink before rushing towards the door, greeting the customer walking in.

“So,” Minho leans close, your eyes quickly shifting to his side profile before looking at the customer walking around, “what did she say?”

“She has plans,” you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, a little disgruntled about the fact that your sister hasn’t been as forthcoming with her private life as you have been. “It’ll be just me.” You push away the attitude that’s brewing, choosing to focus on the party and getting excited about it instead.

Knocking on the counter twice with a grin on his face, Minho moves away, “Great, I’ll pick you up out front around 9ish, okay? Don’t overdress, city girl!” You laugh loudly, shaking your head at him before he waves and heads out, “See you then, Sugar~.” You wave back, telling him goodbye before turning to the customer approaching the counter, and giving them a warm smile. It’s easier to smile when you have something to be excited about. 

The music from the party is so loud, it can be heard down the road even without werewolf hearing and it only grows louder and more intense the closer he gets to the house, making Chris want to turn around and head back home. He couldn’t though, he had heard that the rogues had decided to rent out this house which meant they had been staying on his territory without his permission. The Alpha isn’t going to cause a scene, he knows better than to do that of course but he isn’t going to let them throw a massive party and expect him to not turn up and make sure shit doesn’t go down.

Little does he know, Minho and the others actually expected him to turn up. The need for control is something that makes Chris predictable and with the challenge coming up and him still not taking you as his mate, they decided to lay a trap that the Alpha wouldn’t be able to run away from.

What’s a better way to mess with an Alpha than to dangle his mate like bait?

“Oh, look who arrived,” Seungmin walks over to Chris when he walks through the front door, immediately noticing several members of his pack are here as well as other wolves from surrounding packs. “I don’t think you were formally invited, Chris, but yet, here you are.”

Glaring at the young wolf, he wonders if he should have come at all. “This is happening on my territory, Seungmin. You and Minho should both have known I would turn up regardless.” Chris’ name is called from somewhere amongst the crowd and it doesn’t take him long to find the wolf trying to get his attention. One of his betas has noticed the presence of their Alpha and is waving at him, Chris smiles politely and gives a short wave back before turning back to look at Seungmin. “What do you think you guys are doing?”

“Well, we couldn’t exactly just leave with the full moon coming up and the challenge so we thought it might be easier to stay close, stay nearby so that if you happened to change your mind, you’d be able to find us.” Chris scoffs, finding their reasoning to be a bunch of bullshit but he couldn’t care to argue or fight with the amount of people slowly filling up the rooms. Clearly, they’ve managed to get the word around pretty quickly to have this many people turn up already. “If you do decide to stay, have a drink. Loosen up. You want to blend in and keep an eye on everyone then stop looking like the disapproving father and look like every guy your age.” Shoving a beer into his hand, Seungmin walks off, not waiting to listen to the Alpha’s retort.

Chris’ jaw tenses, grinding his teeth as he sniffs the beer and places it down before heading over to the kitchen and helping himself to the fridge. It will be harder to get any form of information if he’s looking extremely pissed off in a room filled with humans and wolves having fun and mingling but he’s unimpressed by their antics so it’ll take a while for him to settle. He chooses to do that in a corner that is far enough away from everyone so they won’t be able to bother him and he can observe before trying to blend in.

He’s the only Alpha and while the humans won’t know who he is, the wolves will so he needs to make everyone less on edge to get what he wants.

He sits there, a few beers into his night and he notices that the place has filled up more than it was an hour or so ago. Did the town really have this many people or have they been bringing people from surrounding towns to come and party with them? Shaking his head, Chris finishes his beer and decides that he needs something stronger to get him into a more social mood; he makes his way over to the kitchen only to be intercepted by Minho.

Where the hell did he come from?

“Where have you been hiding?” Minho laughs, the glazed over look in his eyes and the stench of alcohol on his breath shows he’s had a few drinks so maybe he’s been here for a while. “You’ve been drinking the weak shit if you aren’t out on the dance floor already.”

Raising an eyebrow, Chris is curious at how the other wolf is drunk considering alcohol takes a longer time to have an effect on their bodies. “You’re drunk?”

“Tipsy,” Minho corrects with a grin before slapping a hand onto Chris’ shoulder, causing the older to look at the limb and wonder if he’s planning something. “Oh, come off it man, you are so suspicious. Let loose. This is your fucking problem.” He leads them towards the kitchen and goes for one of the bottles that are sitting on the table, pouring another drink for himself and taking a swig before pouring Chris a drink. “You are so uptight.” Minho continues to drink before Chris slowly brings the plastic cup to his lips and tastes the sweet alcohol, nose wrinkling but he continues to down the whole cup. As if seeing the sight is something that is worthy of a cheer, Minho claps and snatches the empty cup from Chris before shoving his own into the elder's hand. “Help yourself next time~ there’s plenty to go around and for fuck sake, enjoy the party, man.” As Chris sips on the new drink, Minho decides that he’s bored and it’s time to go and mingle, walking out of the room with a wave of his hand and some parting words, “Enjoy your surprise.”

Chris’ brow furrows as he tries to figure out what Minho means by that, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as if he’s in danger but his thoughts are interrupted by the hooting and cheering coming from the other room. Finishing his drink and crushing the cup in his hand, Chris discards the crumpled plastic in the nearest bin as he goes to investigate the commotion. What has everyone whistling so loud that anyone can hear it over the bass blasting through the speakers?

He stops dead in his tracks as he enters the room, everything in his body suddenly on high alert as soon as he finds the reason. Standing at the other end of the room with the DJ’s hands on her waist, pouring vodka into his mouth, is the last person that Chris thought he would have to see again.

A person he told himself he didn’t want to see again. A person that he needed to see again – though, not like this.

Everything moves in slow motion. The hands in the air, fists pumping, waving, the sounds of the cheers as you kiss the DJ afterward, the way the DJ’s hands move to your ass and grabs so greedily. Everything moves in slow motion but Chris’ heart races in his chest at the show of his mate letting another fucking man shove his tongue down your throat.

His nostrils flare, his fists tighten and the muscle in his jaw clenches as you pull away, laughing and shouting with the crowd.

The music gets louder, pumping with the alcohol running through everyone’s veins and the Alpha parts the bodies that separate him from his mate. He only sees you, jumping and dancing with someone else now, he doesn’t notice the eyes that are on him as they nudge each other and watch the wolf stalk toward you.

Chris is blind to the dangers around him because all he can think about now is removing the scent of the DJ from your body.

You don’t even notice Chris making his way towards you, you’re having way too much fun and feeling so good. Minho had promised a good night where you could let loose, where you could do all the things that you wanted to do without needing to be good and behave with your sister around. A night where it’s all about feeling alive! You know that there’s no way that Serena would have let you do that with the DJ in front of the room – Minho did though, in fact, he encouraged it.

You close your eyes, swaying with the bass as you stand in front of the speakers and wow, you feel like you’re flying. The vibrations from the bass has your heart racing on a different level and with the amount of alcohol you’ve had tonight, you feel like you could take on the world and win. Confidence and no care was a dangerous mix when living life in a way that you’ve never really been able to before.

Nothing can ruin your night.

Nothing can ruin your vibe.

Nothing in this world can ruin your fun.

Well, maybe except for him.

You feel the warmth against your back, electricity rushing through you as you lean into the solid body behind you. There’s a familiar feeling in the way this feels, a sense of deja vu but you don’t think about it, why would you? You don’t want to think about anything except the way the song’s making you feel. You lift your hands up and as if the man behind you know what you’re wanting, he allows you to wrap them around his neck, guiding him to the curve of your neck while his hands slowly creep around your waist.

There’s a possessiveness in the way he holds you, in the way that he tries to encompass your body and it sends a sweet shiver up your spine as he moves with you to the music. You don’t quite know it but he radiates it and anyone who dares to look at you with the slightest bit of interest suddenly looks away due to the look in his eyes before burying his nose into your neck.

Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck and smiles at the response that he gives against your skin. The softest lips place wet kisses along your pulse, reminding you of a dream you had once. The mystery man from the club that has been plaguing your dreams is slowly being replaced by this stranger who isn’t as gentle in his touch but creates the same heat in your core as his teeth graze that sweet spot just behind your ear.

“Are you having fun?” A deep voice growls into your ear as he nips on your earlobe and while your insides melt, your brow furrows for a moment because you’re sure that you know that voice. A voice you’ve thought about more than you like to admit but haven’t heard in a while.

No, it can’t be him.

A soft hum vibrates at the back of your throat, nodding your head as you turn her cheek in the direction of his lips, body pressing against him so that your swaying is rubbing against his crotch. “I’m having a lot of fun.” You smile, trying to turn in his hold so that you can feel more than his teeth nipping your jawline but he keeps you from doing so, from seeing him, and your soft red lips pull into a small pout.

“Tell me, do you like to kiss every man you see?” He dips his head back into your neck, inhaling deeply.

You giggle and shake your head, causing him to lift his own slightly. “No, only the hot ones~,” you say playfully.

With a hand slowly ghosting over your body, grabbing your chin so gently but securely in between his thumb and index fingers, he speaks lowly into your ear. “Close your eyes.” It’s almost like he’s testing you, seeing if you’ll kiss him without knowing what he looks like or maybe it’s because Chris knows that the moment you know it’s him – you wouldn’t dare.

“Hm, that’s not fair,” your lips twitch at the corners, deciding to play along with his game. “How about you tell me your name first?”

Tilting your chin towards him, just enough that you can see the lower half of his face, you see the way those plump lips smirk before he speaks. “You know my name, sugar.” And with those five words, you’re hit with a wave of emotions that all conflict with each other.

Part of you is happy, excited almost, to see Chris again, fuck, you didn’t think that you would ever feel that way about him considering everything but you do. Another part of you is pissed off that he toyed with you like this as if he hasn’t been the biggest asshole, or a close second, that you’ve ever met. You don’t want to move away from him, enjoying the way that your body seems to fit with his, loving the way that his hands are holding you like you belong to him. Yet, you want to push him away, remove the feeling of him with force if you have to.

You both want to slap him for taking you for a fool and kiss him because you want to know if his lips are as soft as they felt against your neck.

“Fuck you,” you push him away, storming off through the crowd but Chris isn’t too far behind you, not wanting to give you up even though he had fought against his bond with you for weeks, if not, months.

Chris manages to catch you in the kitchen, grabbing your wrists when you reach for another drink, and without even thinking, you slap him. It’s loud, louder than the music that has followed you into the next but if anyone heard it, they didn’t give any indication that they had. You both stare at each other for a moment, both lust and anger coursing through your bodies as your eyes lock, his chest rising and falling in rapid success as he stares down at you, the redness on his cheek standing out against his fair complexion.

“I–” You’re about to apologise, you don’t know why you were going to but it just feels appropriate to say sorry for causing a handprint on his face. You never managed to finish the sentence though because Chris pulls you closer and helps break the tension between them. Kissing you roughly in a way that has you losing your breath. Your hands lift to rest against his chest and Chris pulls away, thinking he messed up but you simply fist his shirt in your hands and pull him closer, making him kiss you again while backing you towards the bench.

You shouldn’t be doing this, not here, not where anyone could walk in and see you having a heated make-out session with a man you swore as your enemy but the moment his lips met yours – you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anyone seeing you or anyone having a problem with it because this is exactly the type of letting loose you feel like you need.

His tongue slips inside your mouth, coaxing yours to dance with his and his hands move down to your ass, squeezing and pulling you so close that you could almost become one person. You feel his muscles over his Nirvana shirt as your hands move down his chest and over his abdomen, firm and hard, something that you had guessed once by looking at him but feeling it? A rush runs through your body that seems to set fire to your core.

Your fingers are close to touching his skin, at feeling him but his hands are so fast at catching your wrists and moving them away with that stupid smirk against your lips. “Uh uh, sugar, not so fast.”

You groan, hating the sound of his voice and hating how he’s worked you up so easily, gotten you right where he wants you only to deny you of something that could make him seem at least enjoyable to hate. You bite down on his plump bottom lip, harshly but not enough to draw blood, and Chris growls deeply in his chest, the vibrations rumbling against your own. “You’re so mean, you know that?” You hiss at him when you let go, “You started this and now you’re stopping? Ugh, that’s so annoying.”

Wow, you really sound like a child who isn’t getting your way.

Chris seems to find your anger at him amusing and he pulls away to look at you, his dark eyes dancing with the lust that you’re bringing out of him. He lets go of your wrist, only one as he holds the other tightly, and lifts his free hand to your chin; his fingers hold you securely as his eyes never leave yours, reading the heat behind your burning gaze. Turning your head towards the party, Chris brings your attention to the area that they are in while his lips ghost along the shell of your ear.

“You want to give them another show?”

Using all the strength that you can muster in one hand, you push hard against his chest and Chris steps back as he chuckles, knowing that he’s rattled your cage. “Fuck you.” You say as you storm off towards the bathroom so that you can cool off – or get off.

You feel Chris behind you, not letting you get too far away from him, and while you want to round on him and give him another piece of your mind, another side of you has a completely different thought, one you’ve read far too many times in your books. You want him to follow you, to lock the bathroom door behind him, and cage you against the sink. You want him to fuel that fire, to mock you, tease you, and then kiss you until you both can’t breathe. You want him to run those stupid, large, veiny hands down your body and cause goosebumps to cover your skin. You want him to fuck you like you’ve been dreaming and fantasising about.

You don’t know where it comes from, this need for him, this passion that runs through your veins when it comes to Chris. His irritatingly sexy voice whispers in your ear as they enter the small bathroom together, reaching behind him to lock the door. His infuriatingly firm body presses against your body as his annoyingly handsome face is seen in the mirror.

Why? Why can’t you get him out of her head when he pisses you off so much? Why are you so attracted to him when he’s showing everything that you say you hate about a man?

They say that there’s a fine line between love and hate but this? This is something else entirely and you want to say that you don’t want him but as his hands rest on your body, tightly holding onto your waist, you push back against him. You grind her ass against his groin and feel the effect that you have on him. It’s like everything you’ve been thinking in your mind before is about to play out and you can’t help but think that this is a pretty typical encounter for enemies who can’t stand each other.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” He growls, teeth clenched as he pulls you closer while rolling his hips and making you feel his length. “You’re driving me insane.”

Everything he says he doesn’t need, everything he lies to himself about when it comes to a mate, it all went out the window the moment that your lips met. Chris had no idea what he was thinking but the moment that he saw you with another man’s lips against yours, something inside his mind snapped and all he could think about was making sure that he erased that man’s taste off your tongue. The slap added fuel to the burning fire building in his abdomen, a slight sucker for pain maybe, but it only pushed him towards you instead of making him step back.

He should have left you alone when you headed to the bathroom though but he didn’t. He should have stopped at the threshold and let you be but here he is.

Here you are.

And there goes his sanity.

Pushing against you, he can smell you, your arousal, and it is so fucking intoxicating. It goes straight to his head and fills his mind with many different ways that he could claim you. You are his after all, his mate, he should take you and make sure that everyone at this party knows who you belong to but Chris tries so hard to hold onto whatever broken sanity he has. He can’t force you into this life, not without knowing what it is, he needs to remember that… he needs to focus…

“What the fuck are you doing to me? You’re driving me insane.” Your eyes are locked in the mirror, Chris watching you react so prettily to his need pressing against your ass. The bathroom is too small, there’s not enough space to put distance between you even if he tried. Your scent is filling up the room quickly and all his blood is rushing to his cock, making his pants tight and uncomfortable.

He needs to get you away from him before he can’t hold back. The way your body is responding so readily to him, moving in time with his movements as you practically dry hump while staring into each other’s eyes – it is not helping. All it’s doing is telling him that you want him, that your body can take him, and now all Chris can really think about is how he could slip right between your folds and stretch you out nicely. Shit, that thought definitely isn’t helping.

“Sugar,” your hum sounds too much like a moan and Chris tenses his jaw as if he’s one movement away from breaking. “I need you to leave.” Your brow furrows, confused and he takes a few shallow breaths as if that’ll clear his head with you surrounding him. “If we don’t- fuck-” You push against him and his fingers flex, nearly holding you tight enough that you’ll bruise, “don’t fucking do that.” He growls and your body shivers at the sound.

“Why not?” He can see the smile playing on your biteable lips as you do it again and Chris groans deeply at the feeling. You’re loving the fact that he’s unable to get away from you on his own, that it’s really up to you. It’s the reason you won’t leave, knowing that you have the power to basically make or break him right now, that you are able to get under his skin, why would you back away and stop this?

You don't understand that he’s doing this for your sake as well as his own. You just know that you’re winning and that’s all you want.

You brush your hair to the side as you press your back against his chest, your scent fragrant and strong as Chris grits his teeth and closes his eyes. A happy place, he tries to convince himself, go to a happy place, and not give in to your temptation but it seems his wolf is taking your side and giving in. It’s a battle of the wills and Chris has very little self-control in this situation. It’s true that he hasn’t had sex in a while, suppressing every rut with whatever magical potion he can get his hands on and exerting the energy through training so being presented with a sweet treat like you makes it hard for him to resist.

What is he other than a simple wolf?

His nose runs down the length of your neck, inhaling deeply and tightening his fingers on your hips. If he slips, even just slightly, his nails will dig into her soft skin and break the skin so he needs to be… “Fuck.” Chris growls deeply as his teeth graze softly over a patch of your skin that makes you moan and the sound bounces off the walls, or at least that’s what it feels like. “You’re dangerous, sugar.”

Giggling, fucking giggling, you lean forward and grip the basin while pushing your ass right against his bulge, his cock throbbing and begging to be released. How the fuck is he going to get out of this? No, how is going to fuck you without– “I taste just as sweet as I sound.” Your words cause Chris to freeze for a moment as his brain registers what you just said and it seems that it is all the wolf needs to lose the battle since his fingers automatically move to push your dress over your perfect ass.

Now, he’s not someone who cares about a woman’s body. They are always beautiful no matter their size but your soft hips told him that you were built like a meal. Licking his lips, Chris looks down and runs his hands smoothly over your rump before giving it a spank. You yelp softly, eyes locked on his face but Chris is too busy watching the little jiggle he’s rewarded with and he does it again, just to revel in how your body reacts. “Is that so, sugar?” Fuck, your arousal is so much stronger and it causes his mouth to salivate like he’s so close to his dessert that he can taste it on his tongue already. “You offering a free taste test?”

“Only if you are man enough to try it.” Your words are meant to be a jab but Chris simply chuckles, his lips lifting in a smirk as he moves one hand up your back, dress lifting more, while the other runs teasingly along your clothed core.

You’re soaked, he knew you would be but feeling it is better than he can imagine. The teasing, the thrill of the fuck, hell, maybe even the fighting turns you on. “Do you always get this wet around me, hm?” Applying a little more pressure, Chris rubs back and forth and notices how you stand on your tiptoes to give him a better angle. “When we fought in the bakery, were you clenching your thighs to stop yourself from begging me to fuck you?” You gasp lightly as he rubs circles over your clit before continuing working you over your panties. “Does a little fighting count as foreplay for you? Maybe you’re not as sweet as you look, sugar, hm?”

He can hear you trying to retort, trying to reply and get back at him but your body betrays you by clenching around nothing and just feeling it, knowing it would feel so good around his cock makes his wolf howl in the back of his head. 

“Spread a little for me, baby girl,” Chris gently slaps your thighs and you comply. “There’s a good girl.” He growls out before using both hands to rip your panties messily, the pieces still clinging to your hips while the crotch hangs pathetically. Well, they were ruined anyway.

Before you can say anything, before you can try to tell him off for ruining a seemingly pretty set of lingerie, Chris plunges two calloused fingers into your soaked pussy. His digits slide in easily with no resistance just like he imagined, just like he’s dreamed about, your walls accepting him as they flutter around his fingers and sounding so messy as he prepares you for what’s to come.

You are but that’s not the point.

“Such a pretty little whore, hm? Letting yourself get fucked in the bathroom at a house party,” Chris grins as his eyes meet yours in the mirror, your eyes hardening slightly before he moves his hand and curls his fingers, watching your reaction to him hitting that sweet spot. “Huh? What was that?”

Your head drops as you push back, trying to take him deeper, “fuck you.” You manage out in one breath before biting your lip harshly, as if you’re trying to stop him from hearing those sweet moans he knows you can make.

“Sorry, kitten, I didn’t hear you.” Chris brings his other hand into play, reaching around you and rubbing your clit while still fingering you from behind. The moans break through, knuckles turning white from how tightly you’re holding the basin and he knows it’s getting hard for you to keep yourself from falling completely. He can feel it, the way your body tenses and relaxes, the push and pull, the internal fight unlike what he was having – you want to mess with him but you also want to give in and feel so good. “You were saying?”

“You’re cruel!” You whine, clenching around him. He doesn’t know whether you’re referring to the fact that Chris hasn’t picked up the pace and has basically been keeping you on the brink or the fact that he’s enjoying turning the tables on you despite him barely holding back. “God, please! Just… please!”

Ah, the pace.

It won’t be that easy though. “Please, what, sugar?” Chris slows down ever-so-slightly. You shake your head, biting your lip and not wanting to give him what he wants, so he slows down a little more, fingers barely doing anything but keeping you on edge and making your body jolt. “You want something, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He rubs your clit a little and you moan softly before he stops again, “Otherwise, you won’t get to cum.”

You contemplate, wondering if this really is worth it but when he rubs your clit again, you fold almost instantly. God, it’s been so long since a guy has made you feel this good and you refuse to go home with your pussy throbbing for the thickness you could feel beneath his pants – not without having it stretch you out and fill you up first. A bitch in heat maybe, you’re starting to feel like one right now with the way your body is heating up and begging for more. “Please, let me cum.” You try not to make it sound like you’re begging but the whine you let out makes it impossible to play off otherwise.

A deep growl of approval is what you’re rewarded with as Chris picks up his pace and finds the perfect rhythm to send you over the edge. You feel it starting in your toes before making its way up your body and mixing with the heat in your core. It reminds you of when you’ve been playing with your vibrator and haven't cum in so long that your whole body responds so intensely. A visceral reaction to the stimulation. Your hand slaps down on the stone basin, stinging your palm while your body goes rigid for a moment as your walls clench and flutter around his fingers, still moving and not slowing down. A long moan escapes you but you can’t slap a hand over your mouth out of fear that you may collapse without both hands to support you.

“So fucking pretty,” Chris says as he slows down his movements and pulls his fingers away from your throbbing heat. “You feeling okay, hm?” He asks, eyes on yours as if he’s really concerned for you and he waits, a few heartbeats, for you to nod her head. “Good.” Your eyes widen when Chris brings his fingers to his lips, unashamedly keeping eye contact while sucking them clean before tilting his head back in pleasure. The way he moans at your taste goes straight to your empty cunt, sensitive but needing more. “You do taste so fucking sweet.”

His eyes almost shine as he looks back at you and there’s something slightly different about him. You can’t explain it, not really but it’s almost like he’s more gone than he has been showing or like another side has come out, whatever it could be, you can’t linger on it for too long because Chris is unbuckling his belt and releasing his cock. Not that you can see it, even if you were to look over her shoulder, you wouldn’t be able to see from the way that you’re leaning forward but it’s not long before you feel it.

Chris rubs the tip through your folds, gathering your slick and using it as a lubricant before grabbing your hips and pushing forward to sheath to the hilt. You whine at the intrusion, thicker than his fingers, but feeling so good that you don’t think about anything else. He moves slowly, allowing you to feel every inch stretch your velvet walls and all you can say at the feeling is, “holy shit.” He knows that you’re still feeling high from your previous orgasm, so you’re only given a short moment before Chris is pulling you up by your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your body.

Breath hot against your sensitive skin, his cock as deep as he can get it at this angle, Chris kisses your neck. One hand is on your hips, holding on for dear life while the other arm is wrapped around your chest, just under your breasts, as you’re crushed against his firm body. “You feel even better than I imagined.” Chris’ voice is deep before he starts to move.

There’s barely any thoughts that come through your brain after that, barely anything even registers other than the pleasure coursing through your body as Chris fucks you like he’s as desperate as you are. His head buried in your neck, his low grunts and groans sounding in your ear as you moan and call his name – as well as to whatever Gods may be unfortunately watching. You enjoy sex, it always makes you feel good and she can’t say that she’s never had mind-blowing sex before but this, this is something else entirely. It’s like you fit together perfectly, like he’s filling you completely, hitting all the right spots and making you whimper and whine as another orgasm starts to build.

“Hold it,” Chris commands, his lips pressed against your bare shoulder, eyes locked on your face as you barely manage to make eye contact. “Don’t you dare cum.”

Your hands reach for his, one clinging onto the hand that’s digging, bruising, your soft hips while the other digs into his forearm. This is your only lifeline right now, the only thing keeping you aware. Sure, maybe you didn’t have to inflict pain on Chris but considering his command has your body almost immediately responding – you have to do something. “Please–”

“Not. Yet.” He grunts, picking up the pace. Chris angles his hips to hit the spot that should make you see stars but it doesn’t push you over the edge, not yet, almost as if everything is waiting for him to give permission. He commands your body, he commands what it’s needing and feeling and you are nothing but the puppet following along. Your head falls back against his body, giving in completely and allowing him to build up your orgasm until his strokes begin to get messier and harsher.

It’s as if your body just knew what was about to happen or maybe it’s something else that triggers it but the moment Chris buries himself deep inside her, letting out a deep growl as he harshly bites into your shoulder – you cum around him. Your body feels light, weightless, as he holds you tightly in his arms, teeth breaking skin while your pussy milks his cock. It feels like minutes tick by before Chris pulls out, causing a slight mess between your thighs as cum leaks out of your still pulsing cunt.

In and out. Deep breaths. Nothing but the sound of you two breathing can be heard as you look in the mirror, eyes focusing on Chris only to see him staring at your shoulder. “You have some sharp teeth there, Chris.” You laugh breathily, reaching to touch the bite mark and wincing slightly at the tenderness. You like hickeys, you don’t mind being marked but it was kinky that he bit you like that.

This sets off a chain of events that has you standing there confused and understandably upset. Chris adjusts himself, tidying up his clothes and pulling as far away from you as he can. It’s almost like he didn’t know what had just happened and why he was touching inside you, a shift from how he couldn’t stay away earlier. You’re turning to face him, looking a little happier about being this close to him than you first were when you entered the room but Chris looks like being near you is the last place he wants to be. With a small, uncertain smile, you reach for him, “come on, it couldn’t have been that bad, hm?”

But, Chris pulls his hand away from yours. “This was a mistake…”

The words are said so quietly that you could say you misheard him, only for Chris to make a speedy exit afterwards, so fast that if he was a cartoon, there’d be a cloud in the shape of him.  This sudden retreat has you standing there in shock, your lust filled brain getting a harsh reality splashed onto your face. You don't know what happened, why this happened, especially when it seemed like it was something that you both wanted. It wasn’t bad, in fact, while there are so many things you know could have been better – like not being in a bathroom – the way it felt so electric, like your whole body was in tune with his, it was definitely a great way to break your dry spell. None of that is what she’s fixated on though, you can forgive the way he left you to clean up by yourself, you can forgive the slight throbbing from where he bit your shoulder, but what you can’t forgive are those words that Chris dared to utter.

This was a mistake.

Tears well up in your eyes, and your hands shake as you lock the door so you don't get interrupted. As you clean up, those words echo over and over again. This was a mistake. You remember saying that when you broke up with your ex, you remember saying that your relationship was a mistake because you were two different people. You remember hearing Serena say that when she tried to double a recipe she really shouldn’t have and made a monstrous cake that nearly overflowed in the oven. You have heard those words plenty of times in your life but never, ever have you had them said to you like that.

This was a mistake. Damn right, it was. A mistake that will never happen again.

[halucynator]

Hi! Could I please request a FIC abt Mattheo or Theodore (I’m in love with them both) and the reader always picks her hangnails (to fidget bc she is on the spectrum and has adhd) and they get her to stop by alway holding her hands and she goes to his quidditch game? (I love your fics sm)

Good luck charm

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: like none? do tell if I missed any xx

Summary: (just like read the request I cba)

A/n: thanks for the request and thank you SO much for the compliment💞! Sorry for the wait xx I wrote it about mattheo because I'm in my mattheo era (plus I feel like theo wouldn't be the sporty type) but I will write a Theodore version as well if you're okay with waiting xx I also happen to have ADHD lol so I just related the story to myself. English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx not proof read. I don't love it but I don't hate it either xx hope you like it x

reblogs are appreciated xx

You sat down in Snape's potion class after you got scolded for being 5 minutes late. His classes were SO boring. Your ADHD didn't help either. You grabbed your quill and started to doodle but were shortly stopped by Snape shouting at you for the second time in a 15 minute span.

You rolled your eyes and looked for something to fiddle with. I mean, how could it be your fault that you had ADHD? Was it really that wrong that you needed to fiddle with something to concentrate? Snape definitely made it seem like a sin.

You noticed a hangnail on your finger and started to pick on that. Snape could take that away from you. I mean, was he going to cut off your fingers? As you pulled on the hangnail, you felt a little sting and you knew if your bare flesh made contact with even a drop of water, it would burn. This wasn't avoidable either especially since you were in potions. But you could worry about that later. As long as you could concentrate.

"You need to stop doing that. It looks painful. Plus it isn't healthy." Mattheo comments as be places his hand on yours. It's a comforting feeling but you feel uneasy, looking for something else to fiddle with.

"but I can't! I have ADHD."

"There's got to be better ways to cope."

"there's nothing else to fiddle with"

"Here." He slips one of his rings off his fingers and hands it to you.

"are you sure" you ask.

"yes love." He replies.

And so you fiddle with his silver ring the rest of the lesson but find it hard to with him holding one of your hand captive. You wanted to ask to move it, but you didn't want him to feel upset plus you kinda liked the feeling of his warm hand on your freezing cold one.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You were excited for the quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. You walked up to Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, your group of friends, as you spotted then among the crowd which was dripping with anticipation.

As the game started, you found yourself searching for a particular brown, curly haired boy.

As you spotted him, aiming to score, you felt yourself blushing. As he scored half of the crowd cheered in excitement, and the other half groaned in frustration. As you locked eyes with the brunette boy, you caught hun winning at you which made you turn even more red than you already were if that was possible.

The game ended with Slytherin being victorious (which was a first).

After the game you walked up to Mattheo to congratulate him.

"I've never been to a quidditch match before but I heard this was Slytherin's first victory against Gryffindor."

"Guess you are a good luck charm." He smiled at you.

You blushed. Something about that comment felt genuine, like it was more than just a joke.

"Ah, is that so? You were amazing out there by the way."

"Only for you princess." He winked at you. "I assumed you were awestruck by me. I caught you staring." he grinned.

You blushed as you started to fiddle with your hangnail again. You felt a comforting hand on yours. Mattheo's hand.

"Now now love. We talked about this. Use my rings instead."

You felt nice that Mattheo cared about you. You smiled at him, trying to keep your composure. You felt like kissing him right there and then but you didn't.

Your friends walked up to Mattheo and congratulated him for the win, snapping you out of your daydream about the brunette boy who, at this very moment, was holding your hand.

"You could say we had a good luck charm." He winked at you.

You chuckled at the statement. Girlfriend had a better ring to it, but for now you settled for 'A good luck charm.'

[courtforshort15]

All I Feel is You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 10,700

Summary: The story of how Matt Murdock falls in love with you, as told through the five senses

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sex and oral sex

Written for this post by @dorothleah

Seriously guys, this was supposed to be short🤣🤣

Masterlist

1. Touch

The fabrics you tend to wear are warm and inviting and almost begging to be touched. Every single thread is soft and calming, more so than what Matt is accustomed to finding on friends and the general public, and it's become a much welcomed change. He's noticed that you very rarely wear cotton, instead sticking to silk and satin and cashmere, and though you’ve only been at the firm a scant few weeks, he is addicted and can’t help but want to run his fingers up and down the fabric, dying to know how it would feel underneath his fingertips. 

He’s felt silk and satin and cashmere before, often preferring those materials on his own skin, but he’s never felt them on you, and it somehow still changes the way he gravitates towards them. The thought is arousing and enticing in a way he would have never thought possible. 

The fabric slides over your skin as you move, and Matt finds the sound almost distracting, wishing it was his fingers that were sliding over you instead. When you wear dresses, the material sways around your legs as you walk by him, and it takes everything in Matt to not pull you close and slide your dress up, just so that he can test if the clothing you wear is as soft as the inside of your thighs.

His fingers twitch at his sides whenever you move past him, ruthlessly pushing all indecent thoughts away and out of his head. He knows that if he were ever to touch you like the way he's hungered for weeks, he'd never be able to stop. 

Matt very nearly loses all semblance of control the first time you grab his hand and place it around the crook of your elbow, silk blouse pressed between his flesh and yours. 

Typically Foggy is the one to lead him, perhaps even Karen, because leading a visually impaired individual is a skill, and it requires a certain level of finesse and anticipation of the other’s needs. You’ve been hesitant, he’s aware, to guide him, though not because you don’t want to help him; it’s because you’re afraid you’ll mess up, you admit, and he outwardly laughs in your face. 

You flush, smacking his chest, and tell him you’re nervous you’ll forget to remind him of a step up or down, nervous you’ll walk him right into something or someone. He finds it adorable, especially given the fact that he has better coordination and direction than you ever will.

He’s not ready to tell you that yet, though the secret is constantly brimming at his lips, ready to spill at any given moment, regardless of the consequences.

But one day Foggy has a late meeting with a client across town, and Karen has left early for a date, and it’s just you left in the office with him. The long work day ends with a quiet sigh, the office pleasantly peaceful as the last few hours of work tamper off, and Matt startles when you kindly offer to help walk him home. It’s later than you’re usually at the office, and Matt briefly wonders if you’ve stayed because he had needed to finish things and wasn’t able to leave at a decent time.

Matt strives for a healthier life-work-vigilante balance, has worked for it since things ended with Fisk a little over a year ago, but he’s still a work in progress. He’s addicted to his work, both the work that sees the light of day and the work that doesn’t, and he still sometimes forgets that it impacts others, too, despite the constant drilling of these details into his mind by Foggy and Karen.

“It’s really not necessary,” he tells you with a laugh after the offer spills from your lips, packing his things up and putting his suit jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves. The weather is still decently temperate, the warmth of summer still desperately clinging to New York City, but he can already feel the way the air outside has started cooling down now that the sun has almost finished its descent below the skyscrapers that surround the neighborhood. “I know my way around Hell’s Kitchen well enough. I’ll be okay.” 

And the words are true enough, with or without his senses. He’s a New York City boy, through and through, and he knows these streets and city blocks like the back of his hand.

You pick up your purse, pushing the strap over one shoulder, before turning back to him. The sound of your hair and the smell of the shampoo still clinging to each strand stirs a sense of want and yearning, one he so desperately wants to satisfy. 

“What if it makes me feel better?”

Matt shakes his head, smirking, the look on his face something Foggy would probably label as the typical Matt Murdock charm. The ticking of the clock echoes through the office, and though he can't read the time, the dull sounds of the New York City streets outside the window tells him it's later than he thought it was.

“And what if the idea of you going out of your way at night just to walk me home makes me feel worse?” He’s teasing, of course, though there’s some level of truth to it. He hates the idea of you walking alone at night, knowing far too well the danger that seems to always lurk in the alleyways, knowing far too well that even he can’t be everywhere at once, should something happen to you.

The words that leave his mouth seem to temporarily quiet you, but Matt’s not shocked when the silence ends after only a moment or two. You're usually quick with a rebuttal, your mind always sifting through sentences and body language, and Matt waits in amusement as you work to find the right reply for the situation. 

“It’s hardly night,” you finally respond, decidedly shoving the concern aside easily. “It’s only 7. There’s still a little light out.”

Matt may not be able to see the way his face lights up or darkens with certain expressions, but he knows he’s giving you the driest look possible. “You’d still be going far out of your way. Don’t you live in the opposite direction?”

He hears you scoff, though the sound is more amused than anything. “I can walk you home and take a cab back to my place.”

“You should take a cab back to your place regardless of where you are at this time at night,” he counters, stepping completely out of his office and into the lobby of their space, briefcase in one hand, cane in the other. “But I promise I’m fine on my own. It’s only a few blocks.”

“Humor me.” 

It’s a last ditch effort, he’s well aware, if the helpless sigh you let out is anything to go by. You’re waiting for him by the front door, and Matt, despite his protests, wants nothing more than to walk through it with you and bring you home with him.

“Fine,” he says with another sly grin, and he hears the way you exhale in relief. “But only because I’m not going to pass up a few extra minutes with you when you’ve so graciously offered them.”

The words settle between the two of you, and Matt can feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks as vividly as if he was pressed up against you. Your heart skips briefly, and the sound reverberates in his head. He laughs internally in pure satisfaction when you gulp.

“Fine,” you repeat the word back to him, voice slightly higher than it had been a few moments ago, and Matt can’t help but still be secretly pleased with the reaction you’ve given him. “Are you ready then?”

He gestures towards the exit. “Whenever you are.”

“Good,” you say, turning to open the door, but before you can step through it, you pause. Matt tilts his head at you curiously, wordlessly questioning the silence and the way you've hesitated. 

“So…this is an awkward question, and I don’t know how to do it delicately, so I’ll just dive in. At what point–”

Matt cuts you off, suddenly knowing where this was going. This time he's unable to hold back a laugh. “You want to know when you should offer your arm.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation on your end when you answer. “Yeah, pretty much.”

The grin on his face widens, and Matt wonders if it’s possible to ever frown when you’re around. “I can make my way to the elevator just fine,” he says with a brief shrug of his shoulders, unsnapping his cane as he takes a few steps forward. “But having help after that is always appreciated.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod. You turn back to the door, finally opening it up, and step back so that he has room to walk through. “After you, Matt.”

He resists the urge to brush past you as closely as he possibly can, and instead places a careful distance between your body and his. It's almost excruciating, this self-imposed separation, but he pushes the feeling down.

He doesn't need your assistance with this particular task, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take full advantage.

It’s not long before the elevator is dropping you down at the lowest level, and the doors slide open with a quiet ding. He follows your lead, taking a step outside and into the fresh air of the building lobby, and waits patiently for you to reach for him.

Your hand is trembling as it stretches out to grab his, Matt notes curiously, but it’s steady by the time it pulls him slightly forward. Soft fingers settle on the skin of his wrist, and he adjusts his body so that he’s grasping the crook of your elbow as you step further in.

Matt’s stood intoxicatingly close to you before. He's felt the heat of your body close to his as you pass him files, or when you sit next to him at lunch. He’s felt the length of your hair brush his arm lightly as you reach for something that is on the other side of him, felt the way your breath fans over his face when you lean in to whisper something in his ear while at court. It drives him crazy, these little moments of feeling you, always burning and aching for more. 

But through all of that, nothing has prepared him for the feeling of silk that encases your upper arm and the way it feels against your skin resting underneath it. He’s sure he’s gone to heaven, or whatever sort of heaven is possible for a man like him, and he knows then and there that he needs to feel the way your skin will slide against the silk of his own sheets.

You feel far too wonderful him in that moment, wrapped in the soft material the way that you are, and Matt relishes the way your sensitive skin is an equal match to his, knowing he’ll never have to wonder or worry about rough, scratchy fabric rubbing against him if you can help it. It’s exhilarating, this idea that you’ll always be soft and ready for him.

He’s going to have you, one day. You may not know it yet, but there will be a day when he has you spread out and waiting underneath him, and he’ll tell you that it was this moment that was the tipping point for him.

It's hard to focus as you walk him home, saying your goodbyes at his doorstep when a cab pulls up, and he knows his hand will feel empty and bereft until it has the chance to settle on you once more. It’s like he was always meant to hold you, always meant to touch you, and he’ll wait patiently for you to come to the same realization.

*

2. Hearing

Matt has long since learned to drown out noises that aren’t necessary to the tasks at hand. His ears always pick up everything going on around him, relying on them more often than not for obvious reasons, but he’s mastered the art of tuning things out if they are not currently relevant to what he is working on. It’s a skill Stick had taught him, and it is perhaps the best thing that man had ever done for him, encouraging him to focus in the moment while forever remaining vigilant.

The same cannot be said for you.

He's not exactly sure when the others pick up on the way you need things to be softer, but he notices the first time you flinch as the front door slams shut by mistake. 

A potential client, rejected by their team due to several, incessant lies that pour from his mouth in the thirty minutes they meet with him, storms out of the office in annoyance. He mutters angrily to himself as he leaves, and yanks the door behind him, the sound of it echoing throughout the office. 

The sound was expected by Matt, having already anticipated the way it would reverberate throughout their space due to the heaviness and speed of the door headed towards the frame, but with his senses trained towards you, as they so often are, he doesn't miss the way you flinch and cover your ears.

Harsh and loud noises are triggering for you, it seems, and it’s something he can fully sympathize with, unfortunately. He finds it concerning, if not a little intriguing, this flash of vulnerability you display.

Your voice is gentle as it floats out around the office, rarely rising above a certain decibel, almost encouraging those around you to keep things quiet as well. It's impacted the way he, Foggy and Karen listen and speak to each other, making an effort not to shout things through offices, but rather get up and find the person they’re talking to. The transition happens almost over night, and he can sense the way your body relaxes the longer you are employed with them, trusting the team to use voices that aren’t louder than they really need to be.

Over the course of the months you spend settling into their team, you're frequently invited to happy hour at Josie's. It’s easy for him to pick up on the way you love joining the team, having told them you hadn’t felt like New York was home until you accepted their offer of employment, and it warms him. Your cheeks flush with the buzz of alcohol, your posture relaxes, and your speech becomes less poised, less polished. And every time you join them, without fail, you have soft, silicone plugs nestled in your ears while you're seated at the table.

Tonight you’re seated next to him, something that Matt had carefully orchestrated while you were placing a drink order at the bar, adjusting himself so that the only open seat would be next to him. He tries not to give himself away, but he can’t help but lean into you as far as he can without making it extremely obvious how much he wants to be pressed against you at all times.

He inhales sharply when you abruptly twist your body so that you’re angled towards him in a way that suggests he might not be alone in this need that runs viciously through him.

Matt does his best to focus in on the story you’re telling, your arms gesturing wildly as you regale the group with a funny anecdote about your younger brother. Your voice, despite the loudness of the bar, is still gentle in its cadence, and Matt has long since determined that no other voice will ever captivate him the way yours does.

When you’re done, you take a long sip of your drink, the liquid sliding down your throat, and Matt longs to wrap his hand around the column of your neck just to feel it, while maybe tilting your head back to kiss you in the process. 

Before Matt has the chance to ask you a follow-up question about your brother, curious to know more about the life you’ve led before moving to New York, Foggy jumps in with a question of his own, shouting over the noise of the bar.

"I've never asked before, but why do you wear ear plugs when we come here?"

You freeze next to him, and for a brief second Matt wants to shove his friend off of his bar stool. It’s a question he’s always had, though he thinks he already knows the answer, but he hates the way you’ve been put on the spot. He opens his mouth to tell you that you don’t need to answer, but you reply anyway, cutting him off.

"I, uh…I can get overwhelmed with loud noises," you explain quietly, fidgeting with the napkin still resting in your lap, placed there to wipe salt and grease off of your fingers as you munch on the french fries the group had ordered. "Sometimes it just gets to be too much. I can't focus on what's going on in front of me because everything else is just too loud. The ear plugs drown some things out."

Foggy tilts his head in curiosity, and Matt throws him a look of warning, wordlessly asking him to tread carefully, unwilling to let anything upset you. It had surprised him, initially, his reaction to the thought of you being uncomfortable, but now he knows and no longer questions the fact that he’d gladly rake his body over flaming coals if it meant you were always safe and happy and settled in whatever environment you found yourself in.

Foggy hasn’t caught on to his feelings just yet, but Karen has, and he can practically feel the amused side-eye she’s shooting him.

He rests a hand on your knee gently, intending to only leave it there for a second, but your hand suddenly reaches down and grabs it, easily interlacing your fingers with his. Matt tracks the way your cheeks flush, the way your heartbeat stutters for a split second, and is unable to stop the way his face splits open in a smile.

"Can you hear us okay, then? When you have them in?" Foggy questions, continuing on with the topic, completely oblivious to the body language of the people around him. 

You let out a quiet laugh. "You're sitting close enough that it's not really an issue. But I am decent at reading lips, so that usually helps, too."

“Gotcha,” Foggy says with an easy smile. “Let me know if there’s ever anything we can do to help make you more comfortable."

The conversation about your ear plugs ends there, Matt steering them gently towards another topic to help lead the focus off of something he can tell you're slightly self-conscious about, and he's rewarded by another squeeze of his hand. 

After that evening, the group still goes to Josie's fairly often, but they begin taking turns hosting happy hour at their own individual apartments. It becomes a frequent habit, ordering take out and staying in rather than going out, and Matt easily admits to himself that the quieter get-togethers are easier on his own ears, too. 

The lack of the sharp noises and drunken chatter of a bar also gives him the ability to focus on your heartbeat just that much easier, jumping whenever he gently brushes his fingers over yours when handing you another drink or carton of fried rice, and that alone makes the slight change worth it. 

Matt is committed at this point, intimately aware of what his presence does to you, and while he’d wait forever, he’s desperate to hear every single moan, gasp, or sigh he can draw out of you with his body pressed against yours.

"I never did thank you," you say quietly one evening, helping toss the beer bottles in his recycling bin. Foggy and Karen left ten minutes ago, claiming the need to prep a few more things before trial tomorrow, though Matt knows they had strategically left him alone with you on purpose.

Sometimes he thinks his friends are trying to get back at him for the years of chaos and tears he’s caused them.

"Thank me for what?" He asks, throwing some of the leftover Chinese into his fridge. He packs up a small bag of leftover white rice and vegetables for you to take, knowing without verbal confirmation that the slight blandness is something you'll enjoy and appreciate. He enjoys it, too, strong flavors sometimes too much for him, but he would rather you have it.

"You're the one who started encouraging us to spend time as a smaller group at someone's place, rather than going out," you say, voice floating through his apartment. He may not yet have told you about his own senses, but for some reason you've picked up on the way he can always hear you, no matter how soft or loud you are. "And I just really appreciate it. Going out isn't a big deal, but this is still a nice change sometimes."

Matt steps out of his kitchen to where you've picked up your purse from his table and stands directly in front of you, close enough to reach out and touch. He notices the way your breathing catches, as it always does when he stands near, and for whatever reason, tonight he feels emboldened to fully lean into it.

He reaches out to run a gentle finger down your cheekbone, and you sigh and seem to lean into it instinctively. It's all the encouragement he needs to continue. "I've found that I'd do just about anything to make sure you're comfortable," he says, enjoying the way your skin heats, and he takes another step forward, hand now fully cupping the side of your face. "Whatever you need from me to help that, I'll do it."

You pause for a moment, apparently weighing something in your mind, and he feels the moment you've made some sort of decision. He stands still when you take a tiny step towards him, the heat of you downright scalding, and he waits with bated breath for you to say something. 

"You don't need to do anything, Matt," you whisper quietly, taking his other hand in yours. "But thank you all the same. Truly."

Months of him needing you near more than he needs to breathe, months of him needing to put you first before all other things in his life, causes him to close the distance, unable and unwilling to spend one more second of not knowing what your mouth feels like underneath his.

Your lips are warm and soft as he presses against them, and he keeps the kiss gentle. Your hands reach up to wrap themselves in his shirt, and Matt knows he'll spend the rest of his life wanting to hear nothing else but that quiet sigh that leaves your mouth as it parts for his.

*

3. Taste

Matt grew up in perhaps one of the most unique melting pots in the world. 

New York City is an explosive mixture of cultures and ethnicities and races, and he’s been exposed to all the wonderful things that come with the mixture of so many people living in his city - the different music, the different languages, the different dreams and ideals. 

But the one thing that never fails to disappoint and sadden him about it is the fact that all the different foods of the world, so easily within his grasp, can be extremely overwhelming to his sense of taste. It’s a sense of irony that he doesn’t appreciate.

Over the years, he’s learned to cook with minimal spices and flavors, almost desperate to avoid making his taste buds go haywire, but though everything he makes is nourishing and edible, it doesn’t necessarily make them…good. Matt has a relatively bland diet, sticking to foods and flavors that are subtle, and the repetition is boring. 

But then…you come along.

It’s like an explosion, the flavors you bring with you in your lunches and snacks every day. Matt’s mouth salivates over the meals you bring in, knowing without tasting them that nothing you make will overwhelm his taste buds. It’s never anything fancy, he admits. But you’ve tossed ingredients and spices together in a way that he would have never thought to mix, and it suddenly sets him on a renewed journey of finding new things he can’t wait to try.

Rich and savory spices and herbs spill out of your small backpack as you load them in the fridge every day, and the way the scents sometimes stick to your skin makes him want to take you home and never take his tongue off of you.

…which, he feels that way one hundred percent of the time anyway, the taste of your skin divine by itself, but these moments bring out his hunger for you even more. He's had his tongue on you now, had it in you, and he'd gladly spend the rest of his time here on Earth tasting nothing but the salt on every single inch of your body that you'll let him touch.

He's only made love to you once, but Matt can no longer imagine his life without your taste in his mouth.

It's a rainy Friday night in Hell's Kitchen when you manage to drag him to one of your favorite restaurants, though the word drag is used lightly. He's eager and selfish enough to take every spare second you'll give him, but even he can admit that some cases at work require late evenings. There's an everlasting desire to press his lips to yours, if only to draw out every sound he now knows you can make, so he follows you anyway, despite the heavy workload resting on the secondhand desk that's situated in his office. 

The streets of New York City are wet and miserable, but you pull him happily with you, and he has no control over the heart that has decided your hand is a better home and keeper than his own chest.

Before you even round the corner with him half a step behind, he knows instinctively what restaurant you’re taking him to without a word being spoken. It's a few blocks outside of Hell's Kitchen, so he's never really walked by this restaurant before, but now, just a few hundred feet from him, it calls to him, a delicious mixture of spices and herbs and sugars rolling across his tongue that are satisfying without being overwhelming.

He takes his time on your arm, enjoying the way you sway and swerve in between other pedestrians, simply because it gives him an excuse to hold onto you that much tighter. And by the time he holds the door open for you to step inside, Matt's mouth is almost drooling in want and hunger.

It's not long before food is being placed in front of you both, and he wastes not a single second before diving in. He knew before he even entered the restaurant that he was about to eat one of the most fantastic meals of his life, outside of the classic bacon and eggs and pancakes his father used to make him every Saturday morning while he watched cartoons. 

The same explosion of flavors that he had smelled from outside is there, foods that are bold but still somehow subtle, and he swears he's never tasted a combination of ingredients and sauces and spices that fit so well with his palette. 

Add in the fact that the restaurant uses natural products to clean their dishes and wash their vegetables, rather than burning chemicals that scald both his nose and tongue, and it makes him feel like he never wants to eat anywhere else again.

He also never wants to eat or discover new things with anyone else but you again, but that's a conversation for another time. 

"This is one of my favorite places to come to," you say lightly with a soft smile on your lips, and Matt hmms in agreement, because it has suddenly managed to become one of his favorites, too. "I found it a few months back. It’s relatively new, I think. It just has so many options to choose from that fit with the sorts of things I like."

Matt lifts his fork to his mouth, eyes briefly shutting in contentment, a swirl of rich, savory flavors that settle enticingly on his tongue. He savors it before he swallows.

He can track down every ingredient used for this specific dish. The vegetables are the same ones Monica Smith sells in her small market on 42nd, the chicken from the butcher on 57th. Most of these ingredients are sold fresh and locally, sources that Matt often trusts with his own meals that he cooks himself, and there's nothing more comforting than tasting Hell’s Kitchen, than tasting home on his tongue.

"Do you come here often, then?" He asks once he places his fork down and takes a sip of his drink. 

Your mouth twists into a smirk. "You've already got me, Matthew. No need to use a pick up line.”

A startled laugh escapes his throat, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. "That's not how I meant it."

"Felt like you were putting the moves on me like we were some sort of dive bar," you tease. You blow on the spoonful of soup you're about to wrap your mouth around to eat, and Matt can't help but think of the way your mouth had been wrapped around him not too long ago.

"No need to put the moves on you when I've apparently already got you, sweetheart," he fires back with a grin. "Though I'd be very interested in discussing that particular fact later. In detail."

A quiet laugh trickles over to him. "That can probably be arranged."

"Good," is all he says. He takes another bite, and you mirror him, finally placing the spoon in your mouth. Matt lets out a quiet moan, both at the taste of the food in his mouth and the taste that's now resting on your tongue, eager to pull you to him and share it with you by way of placing his mouth greedily on yours.

"But to answer your question, I do," you tell him once you swallow, and Matt simultaneously attempts to push the arousal away temporarily (he fails), and smiles at the way your voice sounds wistful and happy. He hopes the sound can be contributed to his company just as much as the food in front of you. "It's hard for me to find places that I like."

He tilts his head to the side. "Any specific reason why?"

You shrug, and Matt's attention lazily drifts to the sound the silk makes as it slides over your shoulders. He's had you in his bed now, and the sound of silk and your skin gliding against each other will forever be etched into his memory. 

"Too many places just use ingredients that don't…taste right to me," you answer easily. "Too much salt. Too much grease. Too much everything, really. This place is more gentle, more thoughtful with how they prepare things, I think. Things just feel more natural here."

Matt has to bite back a smile because you just…get it.

He hasn't said a word to you about his senses, not yet at least, but somehow everything about you just fits with him, like you're two pieces of a puzzle, meant to connect and stay connected, revealing an image that only the two of you can see and feel.

"I understand what you mean by that," he says softly, reaching out to grasp your hand in his before he pulls away to grab his beer. "Have you always been that way? Sensitive to different foods? I've noticed the types of things you bring in for lunch; seems to be a common thread."

He feels the way your hand halts on its way to your mouth, and the pause sets him briefly on edge, the sound of your heartbeat stuttering for just a quick second. Opening his mouth, Matt means to ask what's wrong, but you answer before he can do so.

"Yeah, I've always been like this. I, uh…I'm on the spectrum," you tell him before shoving the bite of your salad in your mouth. Matt's mouth drops a fraction of an inch, honestly having not suspected the response. But it makes him pause, because all of a sudden it clicks that he has observed traits that seem to be consistent with what he knows about the diagnosis. 

Sensitivity to sound. Sensitivity to certain fabrics. Sensitivity to taste. He hadn't caught on before, but now it just…makes sense.

You continue. "I'm a fairly mild case, honestly, but certain tastes and textures of food are just overwhelming sometimes, or they don't feel right in my mouth. It's hard to explain."

His focus quickly shifts to the way you adjust in your seat, as if nervous about his reaction, and he finds himself intensely disliking the thought of you regretting your admission in any way.

"You could try to explain, if you're comfortable with it," he suggests softly, reaching out to gently grasp and squeeze your hand again before he pulls back, needing you to know that anything you divulge is safe with him. He hopes that when he's ready to divulge a secret of his own, you'll sit and really hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him and still love him.

"Whatever you have to say, I want to listen."

Taking a deep breath, you place your fork on your plate, though Matt doesn't necessarily take it as a sign that you're uncomfortable with the topic, to which he is grateful, but rather something that indicates you're planning in your head what you want to say.

When you finally answer, Matt is utterly powerless to do nothing but give you every single cell of attention that resides in his body.

"I'm not necessarily shy about it, I'm actually pretty open about it, but I guess there's not much to say," you begin, sounding less hesitant than you had sounded just seconds before. "It's pretty common for people on the spectrum to be picky eaters, and that's always been the case for me. But even if it's common, it doesn't mean it's necessarily well understood why, and no two people and their reactions are the same. For some reason, it tends to be more prevalent in women, which makes it even more difficult to track or explain because there isn't a ton of research on women who are autistic. Most studies focus on men."

He hmms in the back of his throat, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that."

"Most people don't," you say after another bite, and he frowns lightly at the tone of nonchalance in your voice, because even though you sound unaffected, he can hear the quiet waver that suggests that there's a part that ever so slightly bothers you at people's general lack of acknowledgment of the matter. He vows to learn every single thing you're able to teach him, vows to read every single book, published article, or internet post he can find. "Long story short, my sense of taste tends to be limited in terms of what I can tolerate, you know?"

Matts quiet for a moment before he responds. "Oddly enough, I can understand that," he says with a small smile, raising his glass to take another sip of his drink. 

"I figured you would," you reply with a light shrug, the movement stirring the air around you, making the scent of you carry over to him enticingly. He opens his mouth ever so slightly to catch the taste on his tongue. "You tend to order pretty simple things when we all go out. You stick to the same foods and drinks for the most part."

A smirk replaces the grin on his face. "You've been paying attention to me? What am I supposed to do with that information, I wonder?"

He can feel the way your face flushes, and he imagines the color that is blooming rapidly across your cheeks. He vaguely remembers the color red, and he wonders if your skin is vibrant and bold right now, or if the hue is soft and sweet.

"Am I wrong, though?" You ask, neatly avoiding his own questions. "You prefer things that are subtle, things that taste smooth, as opposed to things that taste sharp or in your face, I guess? Do you know what I mean by that?"

"I do. Things that are easy rather than bold," he says with a quick nod. "I can't do bitter or spicy or sour."

Your face splits into a grin. "Exactly. Certain flavors are nice, but they can't be overwhelming or I just kinda…start to shut down. I don't tend to like new things. I'm perfectly happy sticking to the things I know I like."

Matt leans back in his seat as he places his napkin on the table in front of him. He waits until you swallow before speaking again, diving in for the kill, knowing exactly what sort of reaction he's hoping to get from you.

"I'm typically the same way," he says with a smirk. "Though, based on the other night, I'd have to say that my new favorite taste is you."

Your skin flares to life again as you take in a sharp breath, and the smile on his mouth is wide with borderline glee and satisfaction when you give him just the response he had been looking for.

He practically pats himself on the back for a job well done, but is unprepared for your response.

"Well," you say slowly, voice quiet and wavering for just a split second before it strengthens, "if that's the way you feel, then maybe we could go back to your place and you can have me for dessert."

It's Matt's turn to be momentarily speechless, and while blood had rushed to your cheeks at his comment, his own blood heads straight to his cock at yours, and at the thought of having his mouth on you again makes him go absolutely feral.

When he regains his ability to speak, he flags down the waiter he can hear at the table next to him, and asks for the check with a speed he's never managed to achieve, despite his years of snapping at the heels of every violent and manipulative criminal in Hell's Kitchen.

Your soft laugh continues to echo in his ear as he practically drags you to his apartment. 

*

4. Scent 

You miss two or three days of work a month due to what you’ve described as chronic migraines, and the whole office cringes in sympathy whenever you call out. Matt is no stranger to headaches, having had his head bashed in too many times to count, and he knows he’s caused several headaches of his own for Foggy and Karen, the direct result of them being friends with a man who is always finding himself in some sort of trouble.

But migraines, he’s heard, are a whole different ball game, and it saddens him to think of you in so much pain.

When you first started working for their firm, the team used to come to your home and bring you case files and notes at your request, as you were always eager to prove that you were a valuable member of their team, despite the illness that randomly knocked you on your ass for sometimes 24 to 48 hours. They all trust you to complete your work, usually staying late and working weekends to make up for lost time, and for months he humored you, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to show up on your doorstep and check up on you.

Now, though…it’s different.

He ignores your request to bring the files over, and is instead armed with decaffeinated coffee, green tea, peppermint tea, anything and everything he’s researched that is recommended to help ease you out of a migraine and prevent future ones. He’s not sure how much of it all works, but he’s willing and desperate to lessen your pain, even if only for a few minutes.

You’d gifted him with a key just a few weeks ago, shortly after he had told you he loved you for the first time. Unlike most things in his life, being with you is effortless and calm. The transition from friendship to this was seamless, the pair of you somehow knowing this was something meant to last, so he lets himself quietly into your apartment without a second thought. 

The air conditioning is cranked up and blasting as it always is when a migraine sets in, something about heat being a trigger for you, and he doesn’t need to see to know that all the blinds are shut, cutting out all of the natural light and the warmth that would have hit his skin through the windows.

You’re in your bedroom, your heartbeat too rapid for his liking, so he sets the items he’s brought over onto your counter, removes his shoes and suit jacket, and makes his way towards you. You don’t say anything when he settles in behind you, just grabs his arm and pulls it around you, and within a few moments, you’re dead asleep. It’s as if you had been waiting on him before you could fully relax, trusting him to watch over you in your moments of vulnerability.

It’s hours later, well into the evening, when you finally stir again, your body stretching before sinking further into his. Matt had drifted off to sleep beside you for a bit, but had already been awake for an hour before your eyes fluttered open, grateful that your heart rate had decreased and your breathing settled into something more peaceful. The way your body physically reacts to any sort of stress, whether it be sickness or an impending deadline, never fails to put him on edge, ready to leap into the fray of whatever has the potential to cause you harm.

“You’re still here?” Your voice is groggy with sleep, though it’s not as tight with pain as it normally is when you’re in the throes of a migraine, so Matt finds himself relieved that the worst of it may have passed.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he whispers in your ear, tightening the arm resting around your waist. “I don’t have to go out for another few hours or so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after 7,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head from where it’s almost tucked under his chin. “I got here around 3, after the meeting with that new client.”

“And you stayed the whole time?” The words are quiet, but they still sound slightly incredulous. “Matt…you had so much to do today.”

“Nothing more important than making sure you’re okay,” Matt responds easily, slotting his legs up behind yours, pressing the entire length of his body against you. You’d called early this morning while he had been on his way to work, claiming that an awful migraine had started up last night, and he had rushed through his day as quickly as possible. “Are you feeling better?”

You make a non-committal noise. “Maybe a little. I think my meds kicked in this afternoon.”

Matt hums quietly in your ear. “Have you considered a new brand? They don’t seem to be helping much. You still get them pretty frequently.”

Shifting in his hold, you suddenly turn to face him, and Matt adjusts by rolling slightly on to his back, allowing you to curl up against his side and lay your head on his chest. Matt uses the opportunity to brush a kiss against your forehead, the heat of your skin against his always welcome. He had long since removed his pants and shirt, having taken them off before he decided to nap with you, and the way you snuggle closer reminds him that you like being skin to skin just as much as he does.

“They help as much as they can,” you say with a subtle shrug. “It’s hard when something triggers it.”

Matt stills the hand that had naturally risen up to brush lightly against your back. “What triggered it?”

“The lady that came in yesterday afternoon.”

He furrows his brow, searching back through his memory. “Mrs. Henderson?” He feels you nod against his chest, still shuddering and inching impossibly closer. “What about her?”

“It was her perfume.”

“Her perfume triggered the migraine?” You nod again, and Matt frowns mildly as he starts piecing some things together. 

It clicks. “Are you migraines…scent triggered?”

You sigh against him, throwing a leg over his, further settling yourself against him, and Matt tightens his arm. Your eyes flutter shut as you speak. “Yeah, usually. Being around strong scented things can be awful.” 

Matt’s not sure why he hadn’t recognized it before, now that he thinks back on it. The way your apartment always smells clean, but not in a way that smells like a solution of pure chemicals. It always smells more natural, made up of subtle scents that are warm rather than piercing. Your detergent is in similar fashion, and the shampoo you use on your hair is soft and almost indistinct to anyone who doesn't have a nose like his. No candles. No air fresheners. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t noticed it, given the fact that he has always used similar products at his own place that are equally kind to his nose.

“How come I didn’t know this?” Matt questions curiously. He should have known, uniquely prepared and understanding of yet another sensory factor that he has in common with you. But unlike your own unique sensitivity, Matt has found a way to block out most scents, especially the more unpleasant ones that come with living in New York City. 

“Didn’t seem important.”

“Didn’t seem–? It’s super important, if it means there’s something that causes you this much pain,” he argues quietly, resuming the movement of his hand running up and down your back. You arch into the touch. “I might not be able to help all of the time, but I might be able to help with this.”

Matt knows you know exactly what he’s talking about, having told you his biggest secret not long into the relationship. You take a sudden deep breath.

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit quietly. “It didn’t really occur to me, that this might be something you could maybe…help with.”

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, shifting his head to kiss your cheek. “Whatever I can do to help, just like I said before.”

You nod sleepily into his chest, the conversation having apparently worn you out already, and Matt huffs a laugh when your eyes close again and don't reopen.

It doesn’t take long to develop a routine from there on out. Matt’s able to pick up on a scent headed up the elevator that he knows will bother you, long before the client even enters the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page, and he takes great care in either encouraging you to work from home the rest of the day, or hoarding you in his own office, the quiet and unassuming scent of your shampoo and detergent an everlasting sense of peace to his own sensitive nose.

It’s only been a few months, but he has every intention of permanently blending your scent with his.

*

5.  Sight

You prefer muted lights over fluorescent ones.

It doesn’t take long for Matt to notice that the lights in your apartment are warm and relaxing, a strong contrast to the lights he can hear in other various settings. It’s no surprise to him, not really, when he pairs this detail with all the other sensitivities you have. And while the low lights are a benefit to your eyes, Matt considers them a benefit to his hearing.

He’s never mentioned it, but even though he can’t see the harsh lights of a courtroom or police station, he can hear them, and the buzzing noise isn’t always pleasant. He can block most things out, but the constant thrumming does wear on his nerves sometimes, a sharp sound that blazes across his skin before settling in his ears.

He appreciates coming home to you, for more reasons than he could ever possibly count, knowing that the only lights you’ve brought with you when you moved in are soft and warm and blessedly quiet.

Matt knows your eyes are sensitive, that you wear sunglasses whenever you’re outside, regardless of sun or rain or snow, and the lenses that perch on your nose have a special blue-light filter to help take away the strain of staring at a computer screen for too long. He split the cost of having custom sized curtains throughout the apartment to drown out some of the light, and he’s heard you explain to Foggy and Karen the reason the backlight on your phone is so muted.

This isn't something he can necessarily relate to, the one sense of five he is lacking and will never regain. He remembers what it was like to see, colors and faces and neighborhoods rich and vibrant, but light had never caused him actual pain.

He will forever live his life in the dark, even while you remain the bright and pulsing star he will never stop orbiting around.

Over the course of the past year and a half, Matt has spent time tracking the similarities he has with you. All the sensitivities that match up, and it's brought so much comfort to his life that he doesn't know how to articulate it. You've begun building a life together that is soft and soothing for you both. 

He's not surprised that the topic of his own sight has taken so long to be brought up. Calm and simple conversations have sprouted up here and there, and he's always known that you'd haven't avoided the topic, but rather simply made it clear that while losing his sight has continued to be a large part of his story, it is not necessarily the one that is most important to you.

You have always understood that he is more than his blindness, even before his big reveal. And when the topic finally surfaces, it carries both more and less weight than it has anytime before. 

"Matt," you begin quietly, settled in his arms after he absolutely wrecked your world with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He's wrapped himself around you from behind, one of his favorite ways to ensure that you're here with him, that you're safe, that you're his. "Can I ask a question?"

He makes a sound in the back of his throat quietly, indicating that yes, you can ask him anything. He has stripped down every barrier that keeps you from him, both his walls and yours, and there is nothing he'll deny you. 

You must pick up the unspoken words he's given you in a language only the two of you understand, so you proceed. "If this sounds insensitive, please tell me. I don't want to upset you, I'm just curious."

Beyond interested now, Matt rolls you in his arms until you're facing him. Your breath gently rolls over him as he pushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parts in response. "Do you…ever wish you could still see?"

The question makes him pause in a way he hasn't quite stilled before. He's been asked the same question hundreds of times over the decades of his life since the accident, and the answer has always been the same. In an effort to tell people he's happy with where his life is at, in an effort to make people not pity him by him thinking a part of his life is missing, he has always responded with a quick, no, I'm fine. I've gotten used to it.

And while he is fine, the reasoning goes far beneath what he hands out for others to know. Matt may struggle with believing he is worthy of being loved and adored, but one thing he is sure of is that he doesn't owe anyone his story, and that very few deserve to hear it. 

He told Karen once that he wished he could see the sky one more time in a rare moment of opening up, though he admits that he had mostly done so to earn her trust in a display of offering a vulnerability. He had hoped it would inspire an admission of her own, something to help guide him towards the next clue to the puzzle in her case, but he had been unsuccessful.

But that was neither here nor there.

The question falling from the lips he'd gladly spend every second pressed against is quiet, less probing than others who have asked, and he knows this is yet one more thing he's unable to keep from you. 

Actually, the word is no longer unable, but rather unwilling, because there's not a single piece of himself that he wants to keep hidden from you. You own him, body, heart, and soul, and months ago that acceptance of ownership came with the realization that he has no desire to be anything but open and free beneath your fingertips.

A soft hand runs up his torso and settles over his heart, a quiet yet intentional moment of comfort, and you speak before he gets a chance to reply. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not that. I'm just thinking."

"Take your time, love," is all you say, and the term of endearment never fails to knock him off his feet. You are his love, but he is also yours.

With a subtle clearing of his throat, he opens his mouth to answer, not an ounce of hesitation, though the words at first seem disjointed because he's not quite sure how to say what he wants to say. 

"I…yes and no," he starts softly in your ear. "There...are certain things I wish I could see at least once, or at least one more time, but for the most part, no. I don't necessarily wish that."

Sheets rustle as you push a thigh between his to press even closer. "Is it because you just have accepted it? That there's nothing you can do about it, so no use thinking about it?"

"In some ways, sure," he tells you, pointer finger drawing lazy circles on your hip. "But I was angry about it for a long time. Angry that my vision was taken from me because I tried to help someone. I felt like I had been punished by a god who only ever saw the devil in me, rather than the good I had tried to do, even as a kid. But that anger shifted the older I got, and rather than blame God, I blamed the rest of the world for all the injustices, feeling like I was doomed to do nothing but hear them. And it made me furious that everyone else had the ability to actually see these horrible things happening, and yet they did nothing."

"So…you let the devil out," you murmur against his chest, already familiar with this part of the story, having heard the explanation of what had made him snap, the final straw that broke the camel's back. 

"Yes," he whispers back, knowing you held no blame or disgust associated with the sentence you had just let out. "I let the devil out."

Once upon a time he had begged Foggy to understand why he had chosen this particular path, asking him to forgive him for doing what he had thought necessary to save that little girl. He had repeated the process with Karen some time after that, but the results had been even worse the second time, the lie in their friendship and failed relationship a chasm between the two of them.

But with you…there had been no begging involved. No praying at your feet that you would understand it, understand him. The shock had been there, true, when he finally revealed himself all those months ago, laying all his cards on the table, yours to do with what you wished.

A silence had echoed between you, one that had felt like years but had only actually lasted a split second, before you picked up all the cards he had given you, tucked them in your chest for safe keeping, and responded with endless amounts of love and affection. You'd taken his hand just as easily as you'd taken his heart, told him you trusted him to do what he thought was right, and that there was not a single piece of him that you did not want and adore.

"And now? How do you feel about it now? About not being able to see?"

"I talked about this once with Maggie," he replies, recalling the conversation he'd had with her years ago underneath the church. "This idea of looking back on the past and trying to figure out if the life we led was on the right path or not. I told her about all the anger I had felt, all the hurt and betrayal. It took me a long time to realize that maybe God thought sight was unnecessary to do what needed to be done, and that I needed to go through the things I did in order to become Daredevil."

"And has that helped you? Thinking about it that way?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation, without pause. "If getting back my sight meant losing everything else, losing all the things that have helped me to help others, then it wouldn't be worth it."

"That makes sense," you whisper quietly against his chest. Your hair rubs against his skin, and Matt sighs at the contact. "You're Daredevil. Daredevil is Matt Murdock. There's no separating the two, because you're both. You wouldn't be your full self if you couldn't do what you can do."

He pulls you tighter against him. "Yes, I....that's exactly it," he says with a rush of breath that slides over your hair and skin. "I couldn't…be me without it. So, no. I don't wish I could see, not if it meant giving this up."

"And you don't feel the need to see." 

Matt can't help but love the way it's a statement, and not a question. 

"I don't," he says simply. "I've lived the vast majority of my life without sight, and I can live the rest without it, too. I have Foggy. I have Karen. I have our practice. And I have you. My life is complete the way it is."

Fingers trail up his chest, up his neck, and settle on his cheek. Matt instinctively leans his head into the touch, relishing the way you always manage to provide love and affection without saying a word. 

He's not necessarily sensitive to the topic anymore, and certainly never could be with you, this wonderful person in his life who has filled him with warmth, a steady flame licking at his heart and spreading outwards, always finding every crack and crevice to stitch together and make whole. 

He'll never be able to fully articulate the way he's never felt like home with anyone else but you, never be able to fully articulate the way you've righted the axis of his life that has not felt safe or secure since his father died.

All he can do is try. 

Try to explain just how you've pulled him in like a moth to the flame, but never once tried to burn him.

"My eyes haven't worked since I was 9, but you manage to help me see, sweetheart. In a way no one else has been able to before, " he says, and the words cause your breathing to hitch. He continues without much pause. "You describe things to me without me asking. I can hear and feel everything so much, but there's always going to be things I can't pick up on, and you've filled that void for me."

Your hand twitches, curling into itself on his chest, and he doesn't waste a single second reaching up to flatten it against his heart again. "Matt." Your voice is thick with an emotion mimicking both surprise and reverence, and your heartbeat has sped up considerably. 

Bending his neck lightly, he brushes his lips across your forehead. "You just naturally tell me about things going on around me, as if you had been doing it your whole life. I thought it was cute before you knew what I was capable of picking up on, but you haven't stopped. You still describe colors and facial expressions and funny signs you see when we're outside. You still tell me all about these things you notice, as if you want to make sure I don't miss a single thing, and I love you for it."

Seemingly stunned into silence, you lay cradled up against him, heart racing and skin flushed and warm. Winding his hand in your hair, Matt pulls your head back, and waits until he knows for sure your eyes have rested on his face. His smile is soft, as is the skin of your cheek when he moves his hand to stroke a thumb down your cheek, picking up a stray tear that rolled down. 

He tilts his head down to kiss you, but before he can move an inch, you're pulling his mouth down towards yours with a hand of your own wrapped around the back of his neck.

He pulls away after a brief moment before he gently rolls you onto your back, parting your thighs so that he can lay between them, anxious to be pressed against you, pressed in you, in every way he can. You moan as his weight settles on top of you, though it changes to a quiet gasp when his cock slides inside, your cunt still wet from where he had finished inside you not an hour before. 

He's pretty sure you're nothing but wet when you're around him, something that never fails to arouse a sharp sense of satisfaction that he makes your body react that way. It makes it easy to take you whenever he wants, your body ready for his with his name and a murmured yes on your lips. 

Matt captures your mouth again with a soft kiss, and when he pulls away, even as his hips rock languidly against yours, he can't help but whisper the words that have unconsciously circled in his head for months now.

"Out of everything out there, out of everything you've told me or described to me, if I could see only one thing in the world, it would be your face when you say I do."

And with that, he laces his fingers with yours as he presses your hand into the mattress next to your head, lightly tracing over the engagement ring he had slid on to your ring finger not too long ago.

It seems that every one of your sensory sensitivities matches his in some way or another, and he can’t help but be thrilled, be calmed by it. The idea of spending the rest of his life side by side with someone he not only loves and adores and cherishes more than his own life, but someone who appreciates and understands the way that the world is just too much sometimes, someone who has helped him find peace in a way he had never thought possible, has forever changed this path that his life has always been on.

Your mouth parts in a sigh underneath his, and he spends the rest of the night using all four senses to drive you both to the edge over and over again, aware that he'll never need his sight to see how perfectly, how flawlessly you were made for him.

[thetriumphantpanda]

close to you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Nine

Chapter Summary | A week of not hearing from Javi since he ran out has you tearing your hair out, so you throw yourself into your work as a distraction, with catastrophic consequences.

Chapter Warnings | mentions of drugs and the drug trade, alcohol consumption, threatening language, violence, blood, descriptions of a head injury and concussion, Javier Peña to the rescue, soft!Javi.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | I am forever appreciative of how patient you guys are for updates of this series! Thank you for hanging in there whilst my muse and creativity ebbs and flows, I love you all! We're getting towards the conclusion of this little story, with only a few chapters left so I hope you guys are still enjoying this! If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You wonder when staring at the work in front of you might actually yield something worth writing about. It’s all you’ve done since you picked up this stupid story and decided to chase it. Staring at the pages on your desk has become all the more common in the week since Javi ran out on you. He’s avoided your calls to his phone, you’ve not seen him around town, and the one time you decided to call the house, Chucho answered and with the most sincere voice you’d ever heard, told you he wasn’t in but that he promised he’d ask him to call you when he got back. That had been two days ago, so you’d practically given up all hope of ever hearing from him again.

For the first couple of days, you’d cursed yourself, wondering why you’d kept any of that stuff in the first place. Newspaper clippings and annotated notes about everything he and his team had done in Colombia. You didn’t need it anymore, thesis done, completed, and with a better mark than you could ever have hoped for. But until you’d seen him in the flesh, knew he was back for good and safe in Texas, it was the only way to feel close to him. Stupid for sure. But then the anger had set in - he’d no right to rifle through your drawers, pick up your notebooks and thumb through them. The barrage of different emotions was hard to deal with, and at the very base level, you missed him, you wanted him back, and you wanted to explain everything to him - that’s incredibly hard when he won’t answer his fucking phone though.

Turning your attention back to your work, you try and focus. You’ve met dead end after dead end with this stupid story and there really is only one place left for you to go. If it’s not Tyler then it has to be someone else in the family that’s involved. You can’t imagine it’s head of the family, so that really only leaves Tyler’s brother. It might be stupid and you might make a terrible enemy out of the mayor’s family, but there’s something else going on here and whatever it is, you’re going to get to the bottom of it, no matter how.

You can still never get over the size of the Johnson family home. Richard and his wife had two sons, one their pride, the other, not so much, but if you looked at their house, you’d think they had at least twelve children. No family needed this many rooms, you think, as you walk up the driveway.

It’s the early afternoon and you can see Garrett’s car parked in front of the house. Tyler will be at work, as will Richard, and you’re pretty sure their mother is never at home. You don’t really know what it is she does, but it’s some form of charitable work that involves travelling more than it does time at home.

You take a deep breath and ring the bell, waiting the appropriate amount of time before ringing it again. It’s a huge house after all, it must take a while to get from anywhere to the front door. A few seconds later, the door opens, and Garrett is stood in front of you, dressed in dress pants and a shirt that has the arms rolled up to the elbows. He smiles at you and opens the door a bit wider, invites you in - it’s much warmed than the reception you got from his brother.

“Lovely to see you,” He smiles, guiding you through the foyer and into the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you.” You smile back, waiting for him to put a glass in front of you, topped up with water and fresh ice.

“I assume you’re here from the paper?” He asks, leaning cooly against the kitchen counter.

“That’s right,” You nod, sipping at the water, “Has Tyler spoken to you recently?”

Garrett shakes his head, “No, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks actually.”

You hum, nodding your head, thankful that you have the upper hand of surprise still - that this part of the family don’t know you’re sniffing around looking for a reason that one of their houses was used as some form of drug den.

“How have you been since Dylan died?” You ask, “I know you were really good friends.”

It’s a question that makes sense, they were very good friends, and although it’s been a while, you’re hoping your feigned concern for his mental welfare might make him open up.

“It’s been hard,” He starts, “He was my best friend, and to suddenly not have him around anymore…” He trails off, “I miss him.”

You nod, hoping the look of concern you think you’ve got across your face is projecting enough to make him feel like he can trust you.

“Was he the reason your dad has started being heavier with drugs in town?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Garrett nods, “He saw how fucked up it made me to lose my friend and decided enough was enough, that someone needed to do something to fix the trouble we’ve been having in town for years.”

There’s another nod from you, “Makes sense,” You offer, “Not really working very well though, is it?”

“These things take time.” He offers, in that perfectly practiced politician way that they always answer things.

“Look, I’m gonna cut to the chase Garrett,” You sigh, “That house in town that got raided recently? We’ve been looking into it and it all leads back to you, to your family, and it doesn’t matter who I ask, no-one knows why that place was being used as a drug den, but someone in this family knows exactly why.”

Garrett scoffs, “You’ll want to talk to my brother about that.”

“Well, that’s the thing Garrett,” You speak, “I did, and that man is clean as a whistle, he hasn’t taken drugs in at least a year, and the last time he was at the house, it was clear of anything,” You shrug, “I can’t imagine your dad being involved in anything like this, so that just leaves you.”

You can see his demeanour change almost immediately, he’s uncomfortable, moving from foot to foot and you can see the start of perspiration on his forehead.

“You’re telling me you think I’m involved in something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

He pushes himself from the counter he’s been leaning against, takes a few steps towards you, trying to intimidate you, but you know you’re pushing in the right direction, he wouldn’t be reacting like this if you were barking up the wrong tree.

“Where’s your evidence?” He asks.

“Maybe you’ll have to buy the paper to find out?”

“Listen here you little bitch,” He spits, pointing his finger in your face, “You ought to be careful about this, you think this is just me?” He asks, stepping even closer to you, making your breath catch in your throat, “You think you publish this story and it’ll just be me you have to worry about? You’re dead wrong, publish whatever story you’re planning and you’ll have a rain of fucking fire to deal with from people you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.”

“So, it was you then?” You can help but smirk, having caught him redhanded in a confession, the recorder in your bag that you’d pressed on before he’d answered the door your little secret.

You watch some kind of fury flick over his eyes as he grits his teeth, his hands pressed into your shoulders to push you back, “Stupid little girl.” He says as he pushes, but it’s a lot harder than you’d anticipated and it makes you lose your balance, falling backward.

It all happens in a blur, the side of your head makes contact with the corner of the kitchen island, pain spreading almost immediately across your forehead, vision blurring as your backside hits the floor. You’re sort of aware of something warm and wet dripping down your cheek, which you brush away with the back of your hand as you try and quickly reorientate yourself. Then you feel a hand wrap around your arm and a presence next to you, not quite all there enough to push it away.

“Oh shit,” You hear Garrett speak next to you, “Shit, shit shit,” He’s touching your face now, “I'm sorry, I- oh god - I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

You groan, letting your head tip back against the cool marble of the kitchen island, “Am I-” You struggle to speak, “Am I bleeding?”

“Oh god-” Garrett mutters, “I’m going to be sick.”

And then he’s gone, the sound of his shoes clipping against the floor as he runs to God knows where, leaving you disorientated and bleeding on his kitchen floor. You know you need to get out of here, slowly moving yourself just enough to push yourself to your feet, hands gripping the counter as you reach for your bag. You’re dizzy as you walk towards the door, looking down at the floor because as soon as you look up, you feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out. You can see yourself leaving small drops of blood on the floor as you move - a trail that follows you all the way down the driveway and to your car. You fumble with your keys, dropping them on the floor. When you bend over to try and pick them up, your vision goes fuzzy before you can grab them from the ground. You know you can’t drive like this.

In the haze of confusion you look around, a little way down the street you spot a phone box. It’s slow going, but you make it, pulling open the door, leaning against the glass wall, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and ease the ache behind your eyes. You shuffle through your bag to find your wallet, pulling out a handful of coins that you push into the slot. You think about phoning your father, but realise there’s only one person you want right now. Despite having his number memorised, you pull the worn card from your wallet, mainly to make sure that the haze of confusion doesn’t make you dial the wrong number. You drag your thumb over the faded number, watching a smear of blood cover it, and then press the number into the dialling pad, listening to it start to ring.

“Please Javi,” You whisper, “Please answer.”

You’re about to lose hope, expecting the phone to ring out, but through some form of divine intervention, the ringing stops and you hear the voice you’ve craved all week.

“Peña?”

“Oh Javi,” You sigh out in relief, feeling the prick of tears behind your eyes, “Help me.”

“Cariño?”

“Javi please, I need you.”

“What’s happened?” You can hear his tone change, concern and something else you can’t quite place, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I just-” The ache behind your eyes is making you tired, “I need you to come and get me.”

“Has something happened?”

“Yes,” You reply, “I’m so tired Javi, I can’t drive.”

“Where are you?”

“The mayor’s house,” You reply, “Well- no - I'm in the phone box down the road.”

“You stay right there, okay?” He’s frantic on the other end of the phone, you can tell.

“Please hurry.”

He’s beside himself as he drives from the ranch and into town. A week of avoiding you, of avoiding his feelings towards you, and you’re hurt. He still can’t think about what happened. He doesn’t even know why he’d answered the phone this time - he’d avoided answering anything that had come through on his phone since he’d run out on you before, but there’s something today that made him pick up, and by God is he pleased he did. He doesn’t think he could have lived with himself if he’d let you call and left you hurt and injured in the middle of nowhere.

He thinks of all the other women throughout his life that he's let down. Lorraine and the way he left her, Helena and the way she risked herself for him, for the promise of a fucking visa, and paid the price. Most women in his life ended up hurt, emotionally or physically, and it was becoming evident to him that you were no different.

Not knowing, and not caring about how many speed restrictions he breaks, he makes it to the phone box in record time, cutting the engine and slamming the door behind him. He takes four or five big steps to the phone box, tearing open the door to find you slumped on the floor, eyes fluttering open at the disturbance. He takes a deep breath, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Cariño, it’s me,” He speaks softly, “Can you hear me?”

He takes your face in his hands, turns it towards the quickly fading light, finding the cut on your forehead. The blood has dried and scabbed over, but there’s a trail of crusting blood down your cheek and side of your neck. He thinks of Helena in this moment, about draping his jacket over her naked body, cradling her to his body, reluctantly handing her over to a paramedic, not knowing what would come of her.

“Javi?” Your voice is quiet, but your eyes are looking at him, glassed over, but at least you recognise him.

“That’s me,” He speaks softly, “Are you okay?”

“Tired,” You mumble, and then you shake your head in his hands, “Head hurts.”

“Shall we move you?” He asks, knowing he can’t leave you here, “Come here.”

Letting go of your face, he runs his palms down your arms to where your hands are clasped together. He gently pries open your fingers and takes hold of the card there, holding it up. It’s the card he’d given you with his number on, edges torn and worn. He can clearly see where you've run your fingers over the printed text, and where it's sat in your purse, pulled out and slotted bacon whenever you've needed him. He tries to take it, but your hand clasps over it again.

“Don’t,” You whisper, “It’s mine, don’t take it.”

“It’s okay, Cariño,” He replies, “I’ll keep it safe, just let me have it whilst we get you into the car.”

“My keys,” You mumble as he stands up, leaning down despite the protest of his knees and his back, “I dropped them.”

He’s scooping you up, not quite able to carry you, but able to lean you against his side to walk you to the passenger side of his truck.

“Where did you drop them?” He asks, settling you into the passenger seat, leaning across you to clip your seatbelt in.

“My car-” Your head lolls to the side, eyes hooded as you look at him, “On the ground.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, shutting the door gently. He finds your keys on the ground by your car, and then after checking that the doors are still locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and focuses his attention back to you.

The drive out of town is slower, Javi conscious that he doesn’t want to jostle you too much. Each corner he turns makes you groan. He had considered taking you to your own home, but he decides instead to take you back to the ranch. He pulls up, noticing the lights on in the living room. He knows he’s going to have questions from his father, but he doesn’t worry about that, instead he focuses on getting you out of the truck and into the house.

There’s a look from Chucho when he bursts through the front door, but Javi gives him a clipped shake of his head and instead walks you up the stairs and into his room. He sits you down on the side of the bed, kissing your forehead as he grabs some supplies from his bathroom - a warm, damp washcloth and his bag of first aid supplies, put together by Chucho when he’d come back to the ranch - his dad not convinced he wouldn’t injure himself with the manual labour.

“Hey, cariño?” He speaks softly, on his knees in front of you, “Look at me?”

You do, but your eyes are barely open. He works quickly, wiping away the crusted blood from your face first before he turns his attention to the actual cut. Once he’s cleaned it a little, he can see it’s not as deep as he’d anticipated. He brushes it with an antiseptic wipe, soothing you when it stings enough to make you gasp, and then covers it with a small plaster.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as he eases you back on the bed, head down on his pillows.

“What for?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Scaring you off.”

“Oh hermosa,” He breathes, feeling guilt pool in his stomach, nut not ready to quite face the conversation of what really made him run that night, “I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

He listens to you groan in approval, moving your body to get a little more comfortable.

“What happened today?” He asks quietly, trying to keep you awake so he knows who did this to you.

“Went to the house,” You speak, punctuated with a yawn, “Asked Garrett about the house.”

It’s almost like you get a second wind, trying to sit up, but he knows you need to stay still, so he gently pushes you back down.

“It’s him Javi,” You groan, “He’s the one dealing the drugs.”

“Shhhhh,” It’s the only thing he can think to do, “Just rest, cariño, we can talk later.”

Javi sits there for longer than he needs. You’re softly snoring within minutes, but he still sits there to make sure you’re out for the count. When he’s sure you’re settled and still breathing, he heads downstairs, ignoring his father’s knowing look as he pours himself a generous amount of whiskey.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Javi shrugs, “I’m not sure,” He answers honestly, “It’s new.”

“Not that new,” Chucho huffs, “You were always shit at sneaking around,” He picks up his own drink, “Saw you after my birthday.”

Javi tips his head back and can’t help but chuckle because it’s true, he was never good at keeping things from his dad. He just hopes you’ve both done a better job at keeping things from your parents.

“You know what you’re doing with her?”

It’s a question he doesn’t really know how to answer, mulling over the answer in his mind before he lets his mouth speak.

“I just know I want to keep her safe,” He speaks, “And that I think I might love her.”

Javi watches as Chucho’s mouth grows into a smile, a small nod given in his direction.

“Will she be okay?”

Javi nods, “I think so yes, hit her head pretty hard, but I think after she’s slept she’ll be okay.”

Chucho pushes himself from his chair, draining his almost-empty cup. He puts it in the sink and then puts a warm hand on Javi’s shoulder with a squeeze.

“I just want you to be happy, finally,” He says, “That’s all that matters.”

Javi watches as he walks away, off to his room to sleep, and speaks into the silence of the empty kitchen once he’s gone, “Thanks, dad.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

Honestly I love the idea of dabi gaslighting you into being crazy for him, because it mixed the two camps yandere dabi gets written as, the first being cruel and awful with darling as a plaything, the second being softer with darling as a fragile doll. Personally I think it's a little bit of both, because Dabi is no where near a good man, but the idea he'd completely abuse darling just the way his father did to his mom, seems to hypocritical. Instead framing it like Dabi hates the vulnerability but sorting accepting it hatches a plan where if he can slowly but surely convince you that you are the crazy one, you somehow need him, that you'll need him and that's more stable than love and when he's that insurance he can trust you enough to be softer and all you'll be is grateful. It mixes his love with the awful means he chooses to take it, since he can't be vulnerable enough to trust love but taking it is what a villain can do

I just can't see him as the 100% sadistic bastard which some fics portray him to be. While I do agree that sadism would be a big aspect of his character, there would be times when he would just. Hold you. Cling onto you.

It's weird when it happens for the first time. You've been alone for a few days and then Dabi is home. He kicks off his shoes and wordlessly makes his way towards you. He reeks of ash and blood but you find it difficult to focus on that when you feel the scorching feeling of his arms enveloping your frame.

You still as Dabi gently rests his forehead against the crook of your neck. You feel the staples of his marred flesh against your own as he uncharacteristically inhales your scent.

"...I missed you." he mumbles in a tone so quiet that if he weren't sitting so close you could have sworn that you made it up. As much as he makes fun of you, Dabi loves your fragility. He loves just how easy you are to break but he has the fire power to ensure your safety. The thought makes him giddy like a schoolboy but he's sure not to show it.

His glee would give you an inkling of power over him. He doesn't want that.

As time goes on, it starts becoming hard to judge Dabi properly as a person. You slowly unveil the truth over the ages you spend with him and, to be frank, you are lost at how you ought to see him.

It really is his father's fault for turning out the way he did. The man hardly ever spoke about his feelings but one evening a fuse broke and he told you everything. Your horrified reactions only added more fuel to his hatred as you held him in your arms, by your own volition for once. He proudly boasted how he lost the ability to cry ages ago but the pools of blood leaking out of his eyes told you a different story. The scarlet liquid stained your white t-shirt, the splotches a grave reminder of this evening.

In that moment, you were not speaking to Dabi but rather the lost little boy who could never be good enough. He made your heart swell with all sorts of colorful feelings.

By the time he fell asleep, you were still wide awake, terror running rampant in your heart with the realization that you started to fall for your captor.

And in no time, Dabi picked that fact up. Let me tell you, it made his life so much easier.

Whenever he wanted to prove a point he would just thug at your heartstrings and make you feel like a fool. He has done so much for you, is this how you are going to repay him? Depending on the severity of the fight he might threaten to burn you, but that would be a last resort.

Dabi would like to keep you in one piece, thank you very much.

He is awful and he knows it. But he's just gone too far, he is too attached to you. If you were to ever leave, he would simply go haywire. It has gotten to the point where he needs you like air but you will not have a single clue about that.

The less you know, the better.

[weepingchronicles]

yan!azula (atla) getting back reader 🙏🏻 (headcanons, or one shot please!)

yandere azula x airbender reader (part 2) platonic or romantic tw/cw: yandere, choking, death threats, verbal abuse, possessive behavior a/n: erm guys.. it's getting kinda scary  😰 😰 (part 1)

being with aang and the others was unlike anything you've ever experienced.

when you first met everyone you were scared- but they all welcomed you with open arms. katara emphasized with you, having her mother also die at the hands of the fire nation. sokka tried to flirt with you, which you were oblivious to, until aang and katara told him to knock it off. after that, you became like katara to him, like a younger sibling who'd he protect.

you were so naive to the world, never stepping foot outside of the fire nation before.

when aang had told you his story, how he was in a iceberg for 100 years and was the avatar, but more importantly one of the last airbenders- you could hardly believe it.

the more the gang told you their stories, the clear it became that the fire nation had took away your parents, your culture and your freedom. you knew azula was evil, but you still believed you had no other choice but follow her.

you told aang that you had no airbending ability, you thought you'd be discarded away, just for being useless

but aang did no such thing, just offering a smile and saying he's just glad he has someone from home.

and you did feel at home.

You woke up to shaking, and your eyes immediately lit up. For a minute, you were back in the palace. Azula waking you up so she could sleep beside you. It was when we were in our younger years and Azula would wake you up at odd hours of night, slipping with you under your blanket. You assumed it was because she had nightmares, you did too, but you never dared ask her about it, fearing you'd end up with a scar like Zuko's.

You woke up from your flashbacks and took in to the actual scene in front of you. It's Aang.

"What's wrong?" "It's someone. They're following, come on, we need to get onto Appa."

You all pack your sleeping bags and ride on Appa. It's still the middle of the night, and the cooling wind blowing past your hair is not making your exhaustion any better.

Finally you all spot a place to settle down, it's in a middle of a forest which will be hard for anyone to navigate through

You lay out your tents and sleeping bags again to finally rest. You find yourself somewhat missing Azula, when she would be nice for once and fall asleep beside each other until morning. You push back those thoughts, remembering how she treated you. If she really cared she'd let you go and be happy.

With all these thoughts swirling in your head, you don't notice yourself start falling asleep.

You feel a hand on your mouth causing you to snap your eyes open. There she is, Azula. It's only been a week and she's already found you. Your eyes look to where the rest of the gang were sleeping but instead they're gone!

"Aw, don't look so surprised. You really thought I wouldn't go looking for my favorite pet?" The nickname made you cringe and Azula removes her hand from over your mouth, but both her knees restrain your arms to the ground.

"Where's Aang, Katara and Sokka!?" You spit out, but you instantly regret when you see Azula's sly smirk turn to an expression of jealous rage.

"Really? I could kill you right now but you're more worried about your friends!?" Before you could reply, her hand slapped over your neck, squeezing around your throat. Perfect manicured nails dug into your flesh, practically leaching the breath you had left in your lungs out of you. Azula's eyes leaked of fiery rage, pure fuel and the truth is you've never seen her like this. She's dangerous, more dangerous than ever before but she is not as calculated. You knew that Mai and Ty Lee couldn't defeat the Avatar on their own so she must know that, but instead she came for you.

Still, your heart ached for your friends, the only true ones you've made all your life. You yourself felt a fire deep inside you, not as fiery as Azula's, but it was ignited when you first met Aang.

"Please.. don't hurt them." was all you could manage out before you start turning purple. Azula's face turned shocked, like she couldn't believe you care more about your friends than her. She dropped her claw-like grip on your throat, you let out a gasp of air before rolling to your side and coughing.

While you were coughing, Azula let go of your arms and stood. "(Y/N), they don't truly care for you. At least not like I do, look at what I have done for you! You really think a pesky water tribe girl, a non-bender and a 12 year old Avatar really care for you? Tell me, do you really think the Avatar would save you if you weren't from the Air Nation?"

You were on your side, refusing Azula to see your face. Was she right? It's true that Aang came for me because we are both air but Aang is a good person! He would definitely rescue me even if I were someone else.. right?

You felt Azula's hand cup your cheek and turn your gaze towards her. Her eyes now are half-lidded and the fire was just warmth now.

"(Y/N), please, come home now and we can forget about this. This is silly." She tucked a piece of hair away from your face, which would have been loving but all it made you feel was owned. Like you were a pet, something to leash and expect obedience from. You wanted to show her you were nothing like her, and she did not own you.

Without even thinking you smack her hand away, a surge of strength powering you as you stand up. You moved to shove away Azula but as you did so, a gust of wind flew her back more than 8 feet away from you.

What?

You look down at your hands and back at Azula wobblily getting up, pure shock but also confusion on her face.

You turn around, hearing a familiar girls voice calling you.

"Katara!" You yell, running back to her. "Come on, we have to go! This girl somehow took away my bending." The girl Katara was saying about sounded Ty Lee but you knew you had to get out before Azula fully recovers. You finally made it back with the others and flew away safely on Appa. You look down as fly away, Azula's form getting smaller and smaller by distance. Aang speaks, finally pulling you you of your daze.

"(Y/N), are you okay? How did you manage to fight off Azula?"

"I.. I don't know." The group looks at you with confusion but you're more confused than they are.

You were safe from Azula for now but you knew she'd be back for the Avatar, especially now since he wasn't the only Airbender..

And that's a wrap! Sorry it took so long, I got really busy and I couldn't figure out an ending I liked. Comment or request whether you'd like reader to fully escape Azula or not, or something completely different!

[wandixx]

I'm not much for naming things but: Danny's associated with green and M'gann's a White Martian, so... Spearmint (like the green and white mint candies)? Just a thought.

Prompt: Magic removed Amity Park from the map. JL didn't notice, but in an Alderaan type moment (Star Wars ref. yay!) The martian on Watchtower monitoring duty heard the residents get silent unanimously.

Of course they need to be investigated! So M'gann gets her watch partner to take over and flies there, discovering an odd green rift of death energy doing a black hole effect and it sucks her in. Danny gets landed on/ flown into when she tumbles through the rift. She tried getting a message through to JL when she felt herself getting sucked in, but the message was not received due to ectoplasmic interference.

So Danny has to figure out how to get her AND Amity Park back home!

(Just a thought. I'm curious how you flesh it out if you do!)

This is such an interesting idea, and it definitely deserves much more story than I can write in single prompt, so this here is just a beginning and I will continue. I hope it's up to your expectations

Also, I really love the Spearmint idea

*****

M’gann understood the importance of monitor duty in Watchtower, she really did. She also understood why they were taught it while still in this gray area between fully dependent sidekicks and fully independent heroes, that was the main reason the Young Justice Team even existed.

It didn’t make it any less boring. Even when she had a decent duty partner. Don't get her wrong, Green Arrow was a much better option than Batman or Superman, it was just awkward. At least he seemed equally done with it and didn't scold her for jumping between satellite cameras just a bit too fast to actually ‘monitor’ anything.

And it was only twenty minutes into the two hour shift.

One of the sixty (or so) screens, the one directly in front of her, blinked to the view of the American Midwest. She was about to skip further, when a sudden movement caught her attention. She clicked a few keys to review the footage and asked, still unsure if her eyes weren't deceiving her.

“Did the entire city… just disappear?“

Green Arrow nodded, equally stunned.

“I'm going to check this out” she spluttered, already flying out of the room and doing her best to get Zeta to send her as close as possible. It was a bit tricky when she couldn't see the keyboard. She managed though, so before the adult hero even finished yelling that it was above her skill level, she was out.

From there, getting to the disappeared city was a piece of cake.

She stopped right in tracks when the thing came in view. M'gann had no idea how to describe it. It was a green and white and black storm but not, glass, see-through dome but not, deep space but also decidedly not. It made her want to run away but also come closer, almost like it was tugging at her. Like some pseudo, mental in nature, gravitation.

Oh, wait, no. It was an actual, physical force that after a quick test turned out to be inescapable for her.

Green Arrow, perhaps, maybe probably was kinda right. It was so high above her skill level that a balled napkin from this height would cause serious damage. Thank Batman for comms that she could use to call a backup!

The comms, that, of course, didn't work the one time she needed them.

She sent the message anyway, describing everything to the best of her ability, even though it was only a tip of the iceberg. Just in case, if the magical storm thing just made her comm one way communication only. It was highly unlikely, but who was she, if not an optimist.

She barely closed her mouth, when she was jerked sideways before the whole world became blurred.

She later would have a hard time telling anyone how it felt, to be inside the thing. She was basically powerless, thrown around randomly despite clearly keeping all of her abilities. She couldn't see, couldn't tell which way was up and down, couldn't change direction even a little bit. The rumble of the thing was so loud she couldn't hear her thoughts, throwing her brain so off the loop she forgot what her name was. She was crying probably, almost puking, her limbs hitting any and every part of her body.

At first, she didn't even realize she was out, so dazed from the ride. She didn't even see the flying boy until a while after she crashed into him, throwing them both off the sky. Neither of them caught them before they slammed into the ground. Somehow she ended up cushioning the boy's fall. M’gann couldn’t breathe for a moment. She kinda deserved it for ramming into him in the first place though.

By the time she could use her lungs and behave like a social creature again, the boy scrambled off her and just crouched, intensely staring, anxious and awestruck at the same time. She sat up and gave him once over herself.

He was around her physical age, but much skinnier than her or anybofnher teammates, build like a twig. He had fluffy, white, almost glowing hair, caucasian complexion, and wore a black and white jumpsuit with a tool belt. Big ‘P’ on his chest indicated he was someone from a hero/villain scene, and from general vibes she got, M’gann was leaning towards a hero. He was kinda cute. She coughed awkwardly when she realized how long they just sat in silence.

“Hi?”

Apparently it was enough to release an incoherent babbling from the boy.

“Hi, um… Miss Martian, ma'am? I'm Phantom. What are you doing here? Is the rest of your Team going to fall off the sky too? Justice League?”

“Not right now probably”

She was ignored. Phantom just kept panicking.

“Is this some of your villain's schemes? Are you alright? You crashed pretty hard, sorry I landed on top of you by the way, do you–?”

“I'm fine, don't worry I got worse”

“Sure…”

“Sorry I threw you off the sky”

“Not your fault, really, it's fi–”

“You asked what I'm doing here. I went on my own to investigate when I saw the city blink out of existence and got sucked in. I'm not sure if my report from site made it through, but they know where I went, so they'll soon come to help, don't worry”

Phantom did not stop worrying.

“Alright, cool, cool” he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at them “The Justice League knows you mysteriously disappeared along with an entire city. This is fine, totally fine, absolutely–”

“You're panicking”

“No shit Sherlock. Someone kidnapped my city again and I have no idea how to fix it because my usual tactic is ‘punch the cause of the problem into submission’ and this time I can't punch the storm. Now you're here so if something happens, I’ll have pissed of Justice League to worry about because, of course, it will be my fault. You could be overshadowed and I have no clue what's going on but I have to fix it as soon as–”

“Breathe Phantom“ she interrupted again, projecting what the Team called ‘calming vibes’. Since it didn't involve outright entering someone's brain and humans almost didn't react to it, it was an okay thing to do without asking even on non-villains. “Remember, I'm a hero, not a damsel in the distress you have to protect non stop”

“Of course, you're not. You're Miss Martian. You're amazing, but it doesn't give me any more of an idea on what's going on nor what to do with Justice League when they come, obviously furious because everyone in Amity and their mother will testify that it was somehow my fault, especially if–”

“Hey, hey, none of that. I know you're a good guy and they’ll too. I will vouch for you if for some reason they get misled”

Phantom looked her in the eyes as if he was trying to read her mind himself without even an ounce of psychic powers. She could tell if he used it.

“I could be a bad guy,” he said seriously after a moment of silence.

“I know you're not”

“You don't know me”

“You spent almost all of our interaction agonizing over how to save your city. It's not typical bad guy behavior”

“I could be acting”

M’gann didn't even dignify it with her response other than an incredulous stare.

“ Alright, if I've been acting, I would be a lot cooler but still… I could be acting!”

“I'm a literal psychic, remember? I didn't read your thoughts, don't worry, I know it's invasive for humans. But I got a general overview of who you are, and your vibes matched pretty well with the vibes of good guys”

“Sure, of course, why not,” he muttered, taking a moment to reboot “Why is this my life now?”

M’gann decided it wasn't to her and well… Phantom wasn't wrong, she didn't know him, so however she'd try to answer it was pretty much hit or miss. But from what she'd seen of him, she was curious to learn more.

“Nevermind, let's get you a Specter Deflector before anyone tries to use you as a meatsuit” he said, catching her wrist to drag her somewhere.

She let him lead her. He still didn’t have any nefarious reasoning, and hey! Maybe she'll finish this adventure with a new teammate!

[Sure M’gann. Just a teammate. Don't worry, Danny won't be a panicked mess all of the time here]

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Could you do more of the fem mxy!wwx identity porn? I hope you have a great day 🌻

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Jiang Yanli sees the Lan party approaching and cant help the spike of anxiety that shoots through her.

First is Lan Xichen and A-Yao, who greet Madame Jin and Jin Guangshan formally and respectfully, without a hint of resentment for what they've put them through, for allowing them to arrange this alliance only to yank the promised marriage out from under them.

She knows better than to think there isn't any, but their serene expressions give nothing away. Lan Xichen's amiable mask hides a warm, peaceable center. A-Yao's hides a bitterness and cleverness so great that to this day she thinks it a tragedy that A-Yao hadn't grown up among the Yu.

They make look similar on the surface, but Lan Xichen and A-Yao’s relationship is proof that opposites really do attract.

A-Yao says something that causes Madame Jin’s face to tighten. Then they’re stepping back and Lan Wangji is stepping forward, but he’s not the one she cares about.

Xuanyu stands by his side, back straight and eyes forward, seemingly comfortable and at ease with Lan Wangji in a way that few people manage. Her expression when she faces her father is strained, but she stands close enough to Lan Wangji that their sleeves threaten to tangle together, so she assumes that strain is all that to Jin Guangshan and not Xuanyu’s husband.

“I told you she’s be fine,” Zixuan murmurs.

She wishes they were somewhere less public where she could get away with elbowing him in the ribs or at least stepping on his foot.

“Yanli-jie!” Xuanyu is waving at her, bounding forward without a thought to propriety. Both Lan Wangji and A-Yao are exasperated while Lan Xichen just seems outright fond, which is even more a balm to her worry than Xuanyu’s hopefully good relationship with her husband. A sect leader’s affection is nothing to sniff at, and even if Lan Wangji has little use for his bride, he would not upset his brother by treating someone he’s fond of callously.

“Meimei,” she returns and watches Xuanyu’s grins stretch to almost painful levels as the young woman reaches out to grab her hands. Xuanyu had felt so cold to the touch before, but now her hands are warm, and with several new callouses. She looks stronger too, thicker around the waist and the flesh of her cheeks, and it’s a relief to see her strengthened in both body and spirit.

Her grin eases and she becomes subdued as she inclines her head to Zixuan. “Jin Zixuan.”

He returns it, eyeing her speculatively, but it’s not a surprise. Jiang Yanli’s not sure if the two of them have ever had a real conversation.

“I brought some extra guests,” Xuanyu says. “Sorry.”

She gestures behind her and Jiang Yanli follows her hand and then blinks rabidly, but the vision in front of her doesn’t change. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen stand there, along with a blind girl that she doesn’t remember seeing before. “It’s not a problem, Meimei. You’ll have to tell me that story of how they came to join you.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, looking down at Xuanyu who pointedly ignores his gaze. That makes Jiang Yanli nervous, but it doesn’t seem to be tinged with any true animosity. She’s more than familiar what that looks like on Lan Wangji.

“It was uh – recent. So recent that I’m in need of a proper bath and a new set of robes, actually.” She leans in to whisper, loudly enough that they can all hear her just fine, “I switched out my over robe for something less damaged and bloodstained.”

Lan Wangji sighs deeply. Xuanyu rolls her eyes, which seems like a good sign.

“Oh dear,” Jiang Yanli says, affecting wide eyes and a gentle concern that’s only a little fake. For a moment, a smirk steals across Xuanyu’s face before she smooths it out again, which nearly distracts Jiang Yanli from her play here. Not even A-Yao had picked up on her act the first time she used to it. “That sounds so harrowing and awful. Please, let me escort you to my rooms – you can use my bath and I can help you with your hair. We are sisters, after all.”

“Of course, Yanli-jie,” she says, eyes bright with humor. It’s refreshing to do this with someone who’s in on the joke from the beginning and isn’t A-Cheng. “That’s so kind of you, how can I possibly refuse?”

Both of their husbands look put out as they walk away together, arm in arm. Maybe this will finally give Zixuan and Lan Wangji something to talk about.

[munsonfamilyband]

I’ve had a Different Meeting AU stuck in my head for ages and I’ve decided to share it

After Starcourt Steve can’t sleep. The nightmares and panic keeps him from getting sleep; if he’s lucky he gets an hour. After a week he’s falling apart and he suddenly remembers a piece of his past - he remembers smoking weed with Tommy H and sleeping like a baby. So he starts digging, ends up having to talk to people he never wanted to speak to again, but he finds out who to call.

Eddie Munson. The name is familiar, but the number isn’t. Steve calls Eddie and sets up a meeting the next day to buy some weed. When he drives to the meeting spot he walks through how he’s going to apologize for who he was. Steve is pretty sure he never did anything to Eddie but he wants to be safe rather than sorry. He gets out of his car and ambles through the woods to meet Eddie at a picnic table. Eddie Munson is sitting on the table, legs kicked out in front of him and leaning back on his elbows. Steve quickly averts his eyes from the tattoo he can see on Eddie’s stomach where his shirt has ridden up. He’s aware that he finds men attractive, has been since Jonathan beat him up in ‘83, but now is not the time. Eddie looks up when Steve steps into the clearing and smirks.

“You’re late, I was starting to think you were going to stand me up.”

“Uh, sorry, I got a little side tracked. But um, before we do this I wanted to say sorry…I guess? I’m not sure if I ever did anything to you in school, I’m pretty sure I didn’t but I wanted to apologize for being a dick anyway.” Eddie just blinks at him, grin gone, as he sits up fully while still sitting on the table.

“You’re….. sorry?”

“Yeah, man. I’m trying to be a better person, throw the whole ‘King Steve’ shit out, and I figured that apologizing to the guy I’m hoping will sell me weed is a good place to start, y’know?” Steve knows that there’s a flush crawling up his neck from the embarrassment, can feel it heating up his ears, but he can’t focus on that with Eddie Munson staring at him with his big eyes and wild, curly hair- nope, stopping that right now.

“Oh. Well, you didn’t do anything, I mean, your buddy, Tommy H, used to fuck with me until he started buying my shit. The guy’s almost feral but he isn’t stupid enough to piss off his dealer. So, I guess we’re good then?” Steve breathes out a sigh of relief, moving closer to the table to sit while Eddie climbs down to sit on the opposite side. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Steve clears his throat, glancing around a bit. Eddie probably assumes it’s from nerves around the deal, which is fine with Steve. He doesn’t need to know that Steve is still looking over his shoulder for Russians and flesh monsters. “Uh, look, man. I know you’re wondering about my face, and it has to do with why I’m looking to buy. I was at the mall when it…burned down.” Steve hears Eddie mumble something like ‘holy shit’ under his breath. “I got knocked over during the panic and got trampled,” Steve easily lies. The cover story had been repeated to him until he knew it just as well as the real events. “Ever since, I’ve been having a hard time sleeping and I know weed can help so I was looking to get some to help.” He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, studying his face in a way that reminds him eerily of Nancy.

“I can totally get why you would need weed after that. But, no offense or anything, you seem way more nervous about this than normal.” Steve can’t help but sigh, of course the drug dealer can read him like a book.

“Yeah, I uh, I got drugged when I was at a club a little while ago. I guess I’m nervous about being high again, even though I need to sleep.” Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and watches a complicated series of emotions flash across the other man’s face before seeming to decide on something.

“Okay, I normally wouldn’t do this, but you really do seem to be trying to be better, and you’ve clearly been through a lot lately, so I’m going to make an offer and you can decline if you want, but I figured I would try.” Eddie takes a deep breath, Steve narrowly avoiding watching his cheat expand with it. “Because you’re nervous about this, I can waive the fee this time and bring the pot to smoke with you. So that you don’t have a bad trip, or whatever.” Steve freezes, thrown aback by the offer. After a moment he is able to voice a response.

“You would do that for me?”

“I mean, just because I deal drugs doesn’t mean I have no morals. It feels weird to sell you shit and then let you go off on your own knowing you had a traumatic experience.”

Steve, despite being stunned, manages a smile. “That- thank you, Eddie. That is- I appreciate it a lot.”

The quickly make a plan to meet up the next day at Steve’s house, and Steve offers to get food as payment.

This pattern continues for a month before Eddie’s friends convince him to try a move on Steve - who has been maybe flirting since they met - and the night ends with them making out on Eddie’s couch. They date happily for 6 months, laughing as they pretend to not know each other in front of the kids, until the first day of Spring Break Steve sees a trailer he spends more time at than his own house on the news. As soon of Dustin and Max show up, Steve is grabbing his keys and running to his car, knowing exactly where Eddie is hiding.

Steve never wanted his boyfriend to get involved with this part of his life, but there is no way he will leave him alone now that he is.

[writingjourney]

Hey there! I’m not sure if you take requests, but I saw that others do and you are my favorite so far. 😅 I have some pretty nasty skinned up knees because I fell yesterday, totally embarrassing myself in front of a bunch of clients! I was wondering if you could write a short Copia/reader fic that would give me a way better story for my skinned knees. (Papa or Cardinal!) 😂

on your knees | papa emeritus iv x gn!reader

I can most certainly give you a more thrilling story for those skinned knees 👀 I chose Papa because who wouldn't like to fall to their knees for the antipope?

content: 1.3k words, gn!reader, alcohol mention, biting, semi-public blowjob, spit kink, choking mention, taint tickling, he gets whimpery, blood/minor injury, papas tight-ass pants

Masterlist – Ao3 link

You are both a little tipsy, the warm, giggly kind that has you clinging to each other as you stumble across the street. Copia’s arm is slung around your shoulder, gloved fingers spread over your upper arm in an attempt to keep you steady. You still feel all warm inside after your dinner date in town, the walk home taking you twice as long as you stop for needy kisses every few steps. By the time you reach the abbey’s courtyard, you’re both out of breath.

“Mhm, I want you so much, amore,” Copia whispers into your ear as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. His free hand slowly crawls from your hip to your ass where he squeezes the soft flesh appreciatively. Your fingers search for his but before you can link them together he grabs your hand and brings it to his crotch with a moan. “I’m so hard for you.”

You shudder at the feeling of his cock in your palm, only separated by the strained fabric of his pants that allows his heat to radiate into your skin. His lips trail from your cheekbone down to your jaw where he gently nibbles before pressing another wet kiss to your mouth.

“Be careful or I bite back,” you whisper as you break away, squeezing his cock until it jumps in your hand.

“Oh, do you, my little vampire?” His teeth graze your skin from your lips down to your chin where he bites down gently. “Care to show your Papa?”

“Mhm.”

You reach for his hand and pull him further along until you find a dark spot at the edge of the courtyard, the abbey’s high stone walls casting deep shadows over your bodies. Your shared giggles echo in the hollow between buildings as you both stumble over your uncoordinated limbs. Copia’s back crashes into the wall and takes you with it so fast that your knees give out. The momentum gives your drop more speed than anticipated and you connect with the cobblestone in a painful crunch.

“Ow, amore, your knees,” Copia exclaims, trying to pull you up again.

“‘m fine,” you say, shaking off his hand as well as the pain. “I’m just where I need to be.”

“Are you s– Ahhhh.”

His question is interrupted by you pressing your mouth to his cock, growling playfully as you bring it between your teeth. You close them just the tiniest bit, a kitten bite really, and Copia chuckles under his breath. One of his gloved hands strokes your hair, the other lovingly caressing your jaw. You nuzzle the tent in his pants for a moment, take in the smell of his arousal as you feel him twitching against your face. With practiced fingers you open his belt and zipper, a little more clumsily than usual in your tipsy excitement. After he forwent his underwear to fit into the tightest pants he owns, his semi-hard cock springs out immediately. Your mouth is watering at the sight, a needy throb vibrating through your lower body when you press your cheek to his length. The burning pain in your knees is pushed to the back of your mind as you look at your Papa through heavy eyelids, allowing him to admire you.

“Che bellezza,” he whispers, cradling your other cheek in his gloved hand. “Seeing you on your knees for your Papa, amore. Hold out your hand, sì?”

You do as he says, stretching your hand skyward. Copia’s tongue works inside of his painted cheeks, the black lines shifting back and forth before he spits into your palm.

“Go on,” he says. “Don’t tease.”

You look up at him, watching his expression darken as you spit into your hand as well. The tight lines on his face melt in pleasure as you wrap your fist around his cock, spreading your combined spit over his length and stroking him to full hardness. You press a gentle kiss to his tip, lapping up the pearls of precum that drip from his slit and onto your lips. At the contact he sighs, pushing his hand in your hair for a better hold on your head.

“Amore–” he warns. “I said no– ohhh.”

You fully wrap your lips around him, letting him slide in so deep that he chokes on his words when you hollow out your cheeks. His grip on your hair tightens until his tugs are almost painful and you blink up at him, watching his eyes roll back in his head. The corners of your mouth twitch at the sight. He’s already whimpering and moaning, always so needy, so eager for any warm hole he can get. You can feel his cock flexing as you gently cup his balls and give them more room over the tightness of his pants. When you slowly move your head back and forth, keeping your tongue pressed to the veiny underside of his cock, he shallowly rocks his hips to meet your rhythm. 

It doesn’t take a lot to turn him into a mess. You slide your fingers over his taint with gentle but persistent pressure and take him in as deep as you can. He keens when you swallow around him, pushing your head into his groin until you choke. Spit runs down the corners of your mouth and drips from his cock to your chin.

“So good,” he whispers. “So good, amore. K-keep going. ‘m so close, s-so close.”

He’s anything but quiet, not that you mind, as he continues to ramble in between moans. You only take a few seconds of respite to breathe before you suck at his tip, using your hand to pump the rest of him between spit-slick fingers. His hips buck involuntarily, fingers so tight in your hair that the lingering pain in your knees fades in contrast. All it takes is for you to moan around him and the vibrations push him over the edge. His cock is twitching helplessly as thick ropes of cum shoot into your mouth and trickle down your throat. 

Copia groans into the quiet vacuum of the night around you, his eyes glazed over in bliss as he gazes down at you. When he finds you staring at his slack-jawed face, he loosens his grip on your head. As soon as you know he’s watching, you swallow all that he had to give and lick him clean until he whimpers in overstimulation.

“Amore, cuore mio,” he whispers, wiping some of the spit and cum from the corners of your mouth before his thumb pushes between your lips. “You always make your Papa feel so good. So generous, my baby.”

You smile and lick his thumb clean, nibbling at it for a moment until he chuckles. You press a kiss to each of his knuckles, then, the leather soft and warm against your lips before you use his hand to slowly pull yourself up. Copia helps you and gently cradles you against his solid chest until you can properly stand on your own again. He leans in for a soft kiss to your mouth, his ragged exhales brushing over your face until your lips meet. In the meantime, you carefully tuck his softening dick back into his pants and zip them up.

“Now, let me see your knees,” he says and you step back on wobbly legs.

It still hurts like a bitch and you can feel the wetness of blood seeping into the ripped fabric at your joints, some leftover gravel stuck in the softer skin around it that you have to clean out. From the outside it looks half as bad, but you know that once your pants come off, the sight won’t be pleasant.

“We have to get you inside now and clean this, amore,” Copia says with with a pained expression on his face before he presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead. “And then I will make sure this was worth it, eh?”

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

[chimielie]

ghost in the machine

summary: Matsukawa x F!Reader. sometimes two people love each other very much. sometimes they do terrible things to each other.

word count: 1k

cw: cheating, extremely toxic relationship, no one here is likable, breakup, no happy ending

a/n: my bad i was going through something. sorry to the seijoh community. enjoy?

Issei meets you at the train station. It's dry now, but it was raining earlier—his hair is sticking to his face, curling even more than usual in the humidity. He doesn't "believe" in using umbrellas, whatever that means, or in standing beneath the rain shelter, apparently.

"Hey," you say, affecting nonchalance. The look on his face is familiar to you, signalling further storms ahead. You put your hands in his and press your mouth into a little frown. "What's wrong?

"Don't act cute," he says, glancing away, but he doesn't take his hands out of your hold. "This is—hard enough."

Issei does this thing, when he's mad at you, taking longer and longer pauses as he speaks. Leaves you hanging and still chooses all the wrong words.

"Issei, what happened?" You say. You look around, but there's no one else at the station: it's a dismal day, and his workplace is out of the way of pretty much all other human life. Fitting.

He rubs a thumb over yours, slow, pensive.

"I'm just gonna rip the band-aid off," he says, and you almost snort. There's been nothing quick about this process. "I think we should stop seeing each other."

"Another break?" You ask, trying to keep your voice light. "So you can fuck your new building receptionist?"

That's not light. Oops.

"How do you—whatever. No. That's not it. Don't be like that."

"It's what it was last time," you say, frustrated. "And Makki mentioned that he thought she was hot, which means you think she is."

"I don't, and that's not even the point," he sighs. "See, this is what I mean."

"You do," you insist. "But what is your point?"

"My point," he grits, thumb rubbing harder, strong fingers digging into your flesh so hard it almost hurts. "Is that we need to end this. Not a break. We need to break up."

"No," you say, blinking away tears. "I thought we were working on things. I thought we were better."

He pauses again. You let yourself fill up with big, stupid hope, leaning a little closer to him. All you want is one of his hugs, warm and solid and loving. Love me, you want to sob, you don't love me?

You don't, because you would be proving his point. You don't want to guilt him. You don't want to hurt him. You feel nauseous. The whole world is wrong, everything is going wrong.

He doesn’t give you what you need.

"I feel sick," he echoes your thoughts. "All the time. What we're doing to each other—I care about you, I want you to be happy. We—I don't make you happy."

"You do," you plead. "No one else makes me happy like you."

"But that's, like, five percent of the time," he says, jerking you a little closer. You know it's subconscious and it makes you emit a little noise, soft, one you don't want him to hear. "The rest of the time we, we fight, and we get petty, and we act like kids. It's not what it should be."

"I don't care what it should be," you flash. "I don't want whatever it should be. I want this. I think it's worth it. I want to fight for it."

"Well, I don't!" His eyes are burning. You think there's something shimmering in his waterline. "I'm tired. It's—you jerk me around like bait, on a string. I am tired of taking breaks, and getting back at each other, and—"

"I jerk you around?" You say. "Issei, you suggested the first break, you slept with—"

"I know what I did," his voice sounds defeated even as you can hear the underlying anger—deeper, the underlying hurt. "That's what I'm saying, we're damaged, I really don't care whose fault it is."

"Except you clearly think it's mine," you argue. It’s fucked up, that this is what fighting for your love means; how twisted has your knight-and-princess story become?

“Shut up! Just stop—just stop talking for a second.” You press your fingers tentatively to the right corner of his temple and rub small circles into the skin, knowing that’s where he gets headaches from grinding his jaw when you’re driving him crazy. He lets you for a moment, then shakes his head, bats you away. “You shouldn’t let me talk to you like that.”

“I won’t,” you say. “You won’t talk to me like that anymore.”

“That’s so fucked up,” he chokes out a laugh. His dark eyes crease so prettily when he does. “Don’t do that. With the next guy—”

“There’s no next guy!” You yelp, fingers flexing, not sure what to hold on to. If he’s letting go of his jealousy—the world tilts dizzily. He used to tell you, face in a lazy cat smile, body warm and heavy atop yours, that you’d find your next boyfriends on his mortuary table. “What, Issei, there’s not gonna be anyone else ever.”

His lips twist into a sardonic smile. He lets go of you, his hands shaking like he’s just been shocked, cartoon-style, electricity working its way through his body. You reach for him and he shoves his hands in his pockets, lets you stumble over your feet.

“I know you slept with Makki,” Issei says grimly. You stop in your tracks.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he agreed. “Yeah.”

There’s not a lot to say to that. It doesn’t matter that it was during the worst breakup, a year ago, that it was because you’d seen him kissing one of your friends at a party. It doesn’t matter that it had been a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and the tears are rolling down your face again. Or it’s started raining. Both. “I’m so sorry. I know.”

There’s an awful screech when the train arrives—his train, going deeper into the country. Yours, back to the city, is due in eight minutes. You can’t stop anything from leaving this station.

“It’s okay. It’s like you said,” he puts his hands on his shoulders, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips wet with cold rainwater. When did it start pouring? “He thought she was hot, so so did I. I love you, so so did he.”

[jennaimmortal]

Musings on OFMD Season 2

I’m feeling a bit sad today for the OFMD writers. After rewatching S1 & 2 a couple times, it’s become blatantly clear to me that Izzy’s arc this season was a very obvious love letter to both Izzy fans & the great Con O’Neil. Izzy was very clearly written to be an obstacle to Ed’s healing & personal growth, a snare that Ed needed to be freed from, albeit with plenty of nuance hiding under the surface. It would have been much easier for them to kill Izzy off while he was still the toxic, abusive, sadomasochistic terror of S1E10.

Instead of taking the easy route, though, the writers flipped the trope on its head! They utilized every bit of the potential buried beneath Izzy’s super fucked up shell. This season Izzy got

• a fully fleshed out redemption complete with terrible consequences of his 1x10 actions

• a realization of the possibility of another way of thinking & existing that he’d spent all of S1 running from & trying to destroy,

• genuine love & support from his crew mates which he was actually able to accept,

• exploration of the long abandoned softer side of his nature,

• an apology from Ed w/o first offering one of his own,

• a powerful, devastatingly poignant speech that mentally demolished a new nemesis, and finally

• a beautiful, meaningful death in the arms of the man he’d dedicated so much of his life to, known that he was truly loved by him & completely accepting of the fact that Ed’s love was not in the form he’d always hoped for.

It was so much more than we could have hoped for, and was very obviously done in service to the MANY fans that had fallen in love with Izzy even after S1, as well as to give Con a storyline worthy of his immense talent. Considering the face that Izzy was never going to end up becoming the show’s third protagonist, it was more than we could have hoped for!

OFMD has two protagonists, Stede & Ed. All the secondary character narratives that haven’t directly involved Ed and/or Stede have been icing on the cake, but the cake has always been the Gentlebeard love story. I feel like some people forget this, expecting them to treat the secondary characters as if it were an ensemble show instead of a show with leads.

Izzy’s arc really was an amazing gift! The writers gave us this incredible journey for Izzy this season, and what did a disgraceful number of people do? They attacked David directly, insulted the entire show, the writers, & other characters, even wishing actual harm & misery to other characters or even to David himself!

While I know that comparatively speaking, the percentage of show fans who reacted this way was relatively small, it was still an astounding amount of hatred & vitriol thrown at the people who had obviously worked very hard to give Izzy fans something beautiful to hold on to after his inevitable death. Much of the discourse honestly shocked me, considering the fact that OFMD isn’t even an adaptation of another work.

When fans get angry at shows written as adaptations of books, it’s a bit more understandable for them to have extreme reactions. They’ve had certain ideas and headcanons about characters they’ve felt very strongly about for a long time. It can be really jarring & painful when expectations like that aren’t met, the characters or plots are taken in totally different directions, or even excluded entirely.

OFMD, however, is an original creation. This is David Jenkins’s story. These are David Jenkins’s characters. He knows his story, his plotlines, his characters far better than anyone else does because they came from HIS brain! So while we as fans can have our own interpretations & head canons, they are always going to be at risk of being proven totally wrong by the ACTUAL canon.

One of the worst aspects of fandoms, in my opinion, is the way people become so proprietary over the story & characters, insisting that their own interpretations & theories are the only correct ones, which is exactly what happened with Izzy. Fans’ individual & collective interpretations, theories, hopes, & other head canons became concrete & true in their minds. So much so that when the actual story didn’t meet those expectations, so many of them lashed out in some truly unpleasant, sometimes hateful ways.

My only hope is that the rest of the fandom’s love, appreciation, constructive criticism, heartbreak, pain, joy, & excitement has been enough to drown out the deluge of vitriolic comments directed at David & the other writers.

If you stuck with me through this unintentionally long diatribe, thank you! Maybe take a moment to give the writers some comments or replies on social media, showing your love! I know I will!

[multifan2022]

Used to be yours #2

I just want to thank anyone who has stuck around to read this.. I posted PART 1 on January 18th!! So with my deepest apologize i give you part 2 164 days later .. I hope you all love it. 

That night after a few hours that honestly felt too short spent with Mav and Henley, you had been trying to get ready to go to the club Phoenix was insisting on going to. Key word was try, because you didn't make it further than your panties before your husband was palming your breasts and pushing them back down. Did you understand? Yes. Did you put up any type of argument? State how you would be late? No.. Absolutely not. Because if there was anything you knew, it was Bradley was just as thorough in the bedroom as he was in the sky. And it had been months since you had been in front of each other, and there was really no better way to celebrate your alone time. 

You're already thinking about how Nix is going to make comments about the beard burn on your neck and chest as Bradley continues to kiss his way down your stomach. His teeth sinking into the extra meat of your thigh as he looked up at you. When his tongue ran up your slit you both moaned together. Bradley was the only man you had ever met that would admit that he absolutely loved eating his woman out. Not that you had been with anyone besides him and Hangman. But you had overheard conversations he had with guys on random deployments while on facetime or calls. Or listened to him recount a story here or there. He was 100% down to tell people his second favorite place in the world was between your thighs. 

It was everything from the way you tasted and sounded, to the way his fingers dug into the flesh of your legs as he held them apart. Honestly it was the same for you, the feeling of said fingers digging into you was great. The way his beautiful hair felt fisted in your hand, wonderful. How his moans as you gasp, clench or pull his hair, would vibrate through you, perfect. You swore there was no one luckier on the planet than you. So now as he went to town feasting on you like a man dying of thirst, you scolded yourself for speaking. 

“The beard is new.. Not really Navy regulation.” 

Bradley chuckled and pulled his mouth away just a little, replacing his tongue with his finger as he looked up at you. He could see that you were questioning yourself as to why you said that. “Do you really wanna talk about Navy regulations right now Babe?” You shook your head, laughing lightly “Your right.” It caught both you and Bradley off guard when your hand wrapped into his hair and you all but shoved his face back into your pussy. The filthy moan he let out, the way his fingers dug into your thighs as you held his face where you needed him sent your confidence skyrocketing.  Riding his face until you were ready to let go, before riding his cock too. 

~~

That's how you ended up at the club a good hour after Nix and what was, unfortunately, shaping up to be the others of the dagger squad. Natasha and her girlfriend Steph can't stop raving over how good the lace body con tank top and black jeans you decided to wear look on you. For now you had a silky black shirt over it, but the club was warm and you were already starting to get hot.  Normally you would be gushing back about whatever they have on, or saying thank you an embarrassing amount of times. Because no amount of love from Rooster can make up for spending years being told you would never be good enough. Normally you also wouldn't be absolutely brain dead and drooling over your husband. Because honestly what gave this man the right to look so fucking hot?

His hair was still slightly wet from his shower, showing off exactly how curly it truly is as it hung just right. His beard really shouldn't have looked as good as you thought it did, and sure some would disagree but they are wrong. His shirt was unbuttoned just far enough to be obscenely hot, showing off his chest hair and two necklaces. Both plain chains but one was his fathers and one had been gifted to him by Henley. The offensive shirt was white, black and pink with gray designs in the white boxes. The shit litterally hung off him in a way that screams fuck me. He was completely oblivious to every woman that stared at him as he made his way back towards you from the bar. 

He noticed the way your eyes tracked over him as Nat shook her head smiling and said something about being on the dance floor. In his hands he had two shots each, one hand held his favorite shots. He handed you one of the kamikaze shots and sat the other two down. Shooting those back you stuck your tongue out at him. You preferred sweeter drinks but never complained for real, it was all in fun. “I know, I know.. I got us these to wash those down with. They are vodka jolly rancher shots, got you a blue raspberry.” He said as he smiled at you, taking those shots back to before he grabbed your hand and followed Nat and Steph. 

~~

An hour later when Jake and Javy were walking in you didn't notice. “Love tonight” The David Guetta party remix was blaring and you were jumping and dancing with the girls. Bradley hadn't even noticed until they settled at the bar next to him. Javy clapped him on the back in greeting as the bartender started their tabs and took more drink orders. “I didn't think you would be here! Figured you would be too busy with your lady.” Jake said, turning to look at Rooster who clenched his jaw and nodded. “I took care of things before and will do so again later I'm sure.. Not like she's going anywhere, we bought a house on base so her and our daughter are staying.” 

Again Jake and Javy shared a look, “Man you got a wife AND a daughter. How did none of us know?” Bradley shrugged apologetically at Javy as the bartender sat a beer and a frozen strawberry margarita in front of him. “It's gonna cause some tension.. So I kept it to myself, and wasn't expecting to stay, ya know.. But I better get this back to her so she can drink it while it's frozen..” Bradley was thankful to have an exit, he really didn't want to be away from you when you realized Jake was here. He didn't care that he left the two men confused and watching after him. “Why is it gonna cause problems?” Javy said almost not realizing it was out loud until Jake shrugged. But as Rooster made it back to his table, and the ladies made it back, it all clicked for Jake. 

“What the fuck..” He said as he watched a familiar y/h/c woman slide up next to Rooster, sitting down in his lap with an ease that screamed comfort. He watched the way your head tilted down just a little to listen as Bradley whispered in your ear. He could see the way you tensed from across the club. The way you went to move your head but Bradleys big hands grabbed your chin and shook his head while smiling. The way you leaned in and pressed your lips to his before keeping your back to Jake and sipping on your drink. Javy looked between his best friend who was about to shatter the glass his old fashioned was in, and the couple in question. Before he could ask, Jake answered “Thats Y/n..” 

Javys jaw almost hit the bartop, “Like Y/n, Y/N? Long lost love Y/n? The one who got away Y/n? Y/n..” Jake held his hand up quickly cutting off whatever long tangent Javy was about to go on. Nodding he watched as Roosters hand explored your body from your perch on his lap. He knew he shouldn't but he found his body walking towards the table you guys were sitting at. When he slid into the seat and put an arm behind Phoenix she scoffed and looked at Rooster with that look on her face that says she's shocked by his audacity. 

Jake's eyes were on your face as you watched Bradley, who watched Jake. “So Rooster.. Gonna introduce us to your… Wife..” The word felt like it stuck in his throat as his eyes trailed down your neck and over what he could see of your body. You could feel his eyes on you, and honestly it made you want to hit him. Turning you leaned slightly over the table to shake Javys hand and introduce yourself. That's when the questions started, Javy knew who you were to Jake, now he wanted to know how that rolled over to Bradley. “Where did you guys meet? How long have you been together? How old is your daughter? When can I meet her, can I be Uncle Yote?” 

Everyone chuckled slightly at his enthusiasm. As an only child to a single mother, he loved anytime his family expanded even a little. Your fingers twirled Bradleys hair a bit as you answered, you knew you were probably going to hurt someone's feelings. Unfortunately for that person, you didn't really care. “Bradley and I met at his tap out ceremony. I was there to see someone else, but instead met the love of my life.” Jake watched, a sick feeling in his stomach as Bradley smiled softly at you and kissed your jaw. “Our daughter, Henley is nine and sure? I kinda figure eventually MOST of you will be like an aunt or uncle to her. Tasha is already Auntie Nix so it wont be that big of a deal.” Jake did the math quickly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink before speaking. “Damn Bradshaw, Ive always joked about you staying on your perch, guess you jumped off pretty quick for this one..” 

Your head snapped to the side to glare at him in a way that made him want to sink into his seat. “What the hell does that mean, Hangman.” The way you sneered at his call sign made his skin crawl, he didn't figure you would be happy to see him, but he was starting to get the feeling that maybe you hated him. His brain racked as he tried to recall when the last time you spoke was. And when he did, he opened his mouth and proceeded to continue digging his hole deeper. “Sweets, listen.. Had I known Bradshaw was your baby daddy, I wouldn't have said what I said.. It was immature, I'm sorry.” 

He missed the way Bradleys hand tightened around his beer at the pet name. His eyes only on yours, when you were younger all he had to ever do was apologize and bat his eyes at you and bam. Forgiven. 

Now though, you looked like you could skin him and use him as a rug. 

The chuckle that came from you was not filled with mirth, it was filled with disdain and hatred as you tried to calm yourself. Your hand in Bradley's hair, and his on your back were the only things keeping you grounded at the moment. When you looked back at Jake there was a coldness in your eyes that he had never seen before. Your tone was frosty as you spoke, “Bradley is her father, but unfortunately biologically she shares DNA with someone else.. And that person.. Well let's just say he isn't worth wasting my breath over.. He left me out to dry.. He is dead to me.” 

The others at the table were shocked, well besides Nat who was thrilled that you were finally getting to say your piece. She had spent many nights, mostly tipsy ones, encouraging this with the hopes that she would get to witness it one day. When the music changed and you stood she stood as well, pulling her girl with you both as you announced you were going to go dance. Bradley was smirking down at the table as he moved your empty glass to the side and pushed the condensation around on the table. Javy felt like he was missing huge pieces of information, Jake did too. 

Jake was doing everything he could to not demand more answers. He wanted to know everything that went wrong, every side step he should've taken. Every argument he should have walked away from, even the ones he should've pushed harder on. He wanted to ask which part of his behavior had pushed you so far away. Jake Hangman Seresin wanted to know everything he needed to not do again if there was ever a possible chance you would be with him again. 

Meanwhile Bradley was loving how torn down the blond looked. Not that he was happy someone else was hurting, just happy that he knew you were getting what you needed. This would help make you happier. This was part of what you needed to heal from Jake and be able to completely move on. But even with all that happiness stirring around in him, old habits die hard. With that in mind he couldn't help but make small jabs at the man. So he leaned back and spread his arms and legs while allowing his head to fall to his shoulder. 

Both Javy and Jake could tell he wanted to say something, but it seemed like he got lost for just a moment. And he did, the moment his eyes found you smiling and dancing with the girls, it was like everything slowed down. Everything in his universe was attached to you in some way. He would never be able to dig deep enough into himself to cut you out completely. The beautiful, thick woman dancing in front of him was his world. The moon, the stars and every galaxy out there. But he forced himself to look away and at one of the few people he actually had real, true negative feelings for. 

“I guess I should thank you Hangman.” He said with a side smirk and slight edge to his voice. He could see the anger and confusion boiling in Jakes eyes as he wondered where he would go with this. Chuckling lightly Bradley continues “Well, had you not been such a selfish prick and ditched her, after begging her to come, at our academy graduation I wouldve never met her… Hell she would probably be married to you. So thank you, for leaving her hangin.” Bradley chuckled once again while tipping his beer bottle towards Jake. 

Javy was shocked, he had never heard this part. Just that you and Jake had fallen out of touch. So to find out in reality, Jake had ditched you and then spent years complaining about how he loved and missed you? He turns to start asking his own questions but stops when he notices his best friends face. Jake has turned red from the neck up, his jaw is clenched to tightly Javy wouldnt be surprised if he cracked a tooth. The bottle in Jakes hand is held so tightly its liable to crack. 

Its taking every ounce of self control that Jake has to not throw himself over the table. He already wanted to rip Bradleys arms off and beat him with them. But now it was worse. Jake wanted to not only beat Bradley until he couldnt move anymore, but he wanted to show Bradley. Show Bradley that maybe.. Just maybe a piece of you had always been waiting for him to come back. That maybe Jake had a fighting chance in a race he didnt even know was happening. 

Just as he went to answer, a redhead came up and practically threw herself in Jakes lap. “Hey there.. If I wear that hat, can I ride you cowboy?”  Jake had never been so turned off in his life. It wasnt the woman in his lap, shes gorgeous and any night before this Jake wouldve spewed off something charming and taken her in the bathroom or maybe in his truck. But he was physically having a hard time not shoving her off his lap. It felt wrong to do in front of you in a way that didnt make sense to him. 

He had no problem parading girls in front of you when he was younger. Girls back home all threw high school, he always took someone different to each dance, both proms. It was never you. He had both you and Jade when he was in the Academy. Jade thought you were just the pathetic girl in town he took pity on.  That you had this silly little high school crush on him, and Jake only entertained it because he pitied you. While none of that came from his mouth, Jake never disagreed. It was an easy way to get away with having his cake and eating it too. 

Especially because you didn't even know Jade existed. 

“SO.. Anyways.. I'm gonna go dance with my wife.. Have a nice night guys.” Bradley practically ran from the table, he was half hard just from listening to you tell Hangman how you felt. There was never any doubt in his head that you would leave him for Jake, but the reassurance was alway nice. The other part was that you never really got worked up like that, so to see you angry was hot. Bradley was suddenly happy that Nix had wanted to come to this club. This club that had ladies dancing on private stages in the corners. This club that had expensive, but semi-private rooms in the back for… Activities. 

Earned it by The Weeknd came on just as he reached you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back into him. It was natural to wrap one arm back and around his neck as the other rested on his arm. “God, that was so hot baby.” His voice was deep and raspy as he ground against you, letting you feel just how hot he thought it was. You just wanted to focus on being back with him, Jake needed to go back to the furthest recesses of your mind where he belonged. So you turned around, wrapping both arms around his neck as the two of you danced with each other. He kept one hand on your hip or lower back at all times, ensuring that you couldn't pull away from him. 

He wanted to feel you as close as he could, until that wasn't enough and he brought his mouth down on yours. It was a filthy and debauched kind of kiss, the kind that others saw and thought “Wow save it for the bedroom” but here, in this kinda sketchy club nobody cared. Well besides the blond standing across the room, it didn't matter that Jake had that girl pressed up against him talking. He didn't even catch her begging him to get a room in the back. If he was honest he couldnt even remember if he asked for her name. He wanted to march over to you and  tell you that he had loved you for as long as he could remember. That he was stupid and young and let you walk away but thought you would always find your way back to each other. 

He wanted to tell you that he didn't care that you had a child, that he would love your daughter like his own. Jake wanted to tell you how he visited your fathers grave every time he went home, paid someone to make sure it stayed clean. That he looked for you, asked people if they knew where you were every single time he went home. He looked everywhere for you.. But now as he watched you bite your bottom lip and start pulling your husband back towards a hallway that he hadn't noticed, he knew it was too late. His mind processed that you were so far gone from him, that he probably wouldn't even be able to salvage a friendship. 

But his heart was unable to hear, “Where's that hallway go?” He asked cutting off the woman in front of him. He didn't even know what she had been talking about, part of him felt bad, but the more prevalent part couldn't care. The redhead turned and giggled, saying she would tell him after they had one more drink. Even though it only took ten minutes for that drink to happen, it was ten minutes too long when she finally answered him. Semi-private rooms she said.. Rooms people used to have sex in a kind of private but still open way. His mind was exploding, he couldn't imagine his best friend, the one who blushed when someone asked to kiss her, having sex where others could see her. But as the redhead whose name he couldn't be bothered to figure out now pulled him back towards the hall, he came to the realization that he probably doesn't know you anymore. 

He didn't pay any attention to the hostess charging his card. Didn't pay any attention to the rules she was reading out loud. He didn't care about the girl that was giggling and hanging on him as they started walking. All he could focus on was looking threw the sheer colored curtains as they passed rooms with couples or groups in varying positions. It wasn't until they walked into a room and the woman shoved him down onto the couch that he found you. 

In the ‘room’ directly across from his. 

~

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~

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[terramythos]

I wrote a little fucked up short story today for my daily writing exercise and I like it enough to post it ^_^ let me know what you think

America's Darling

Darling is an all-American dog, everybody knows that. Our Glorious President, may He live in eternal glory, says the golden retriever is the “ultimate example of American excellence”. Nothing like those modern dog breeds, the ones we don’t talk about anymore. It’s sad they all had to go the way they did, but what is breeding if not the triumph of the pure? There’s no place here for anything un-American, dog or not. America is golden, a shining beacon the rest of the world can only dream of becoming. White picket fences, Saturday sunset barbecues, and the Lord, golden hair shining, smiling down upon us from on high. It makes sense that the best dog of them all would be just as golden and just as smiling. America’s Darling.

Things used to be so much worse. People thought too much and all it did was make people sad. Not like it is today. When’s the last time you saw someone with a frown? Sorry, Tom, sorry — I know we’re not supposed to say the "F-word" anymore, but the Lord will forgive me if it’s a warning. Misfortune only falls upon those who deserve it, and let’s face it, it all comes down to breeding. It’s no surprise that a dog with beautiful blond hair succeeds where all other dogs have failed. He’s just like you and me and our whole family.

But sometimes breeding isn’t enough. There are kids almost like you who are born wrong — born frowning and crying all the time, born with sick bodies, born just a shade too dark, born liking the wrong kinds of people. It’s sad they have to go the way they do, but someone has to clean the sanitation machines when they get clogged. But you don’t have to worry about that. You were born normal and healthy and golden. So I don’t want to see you frowning, okay?

Every kid in America dreams of the chance to see Darling, such a handsome dog. When our Glorious President leaves His beautiful white house, sometimes He brings Darling with Him. And what a miracle that we get to see the all-American dog in the flesh from time to time. The television doesn’t do him justice; there’s something about seeing his lolling tongue and lopsided smile in person that changes you. I was twelve when I got to see Darling, his tail wagging in the spotlight, prancing on the President’s Parade float. Quite the cheer from all the kids, though of course we were drowned out by the adults cheering our glorious Commander-in-Chief.

Now now, Tom, you know better than to ask that question! Of course we can’t have a Darling of our own. There are so few dogs since we got rid of the bad ones. Only really important people can have a dog now, and that’s the way it should be. Besides, would you really want a golden retriever of your own when it couldn’t possibly measure up to Darling? He’s been America’s sweetheart for almost 70 years now. And boy, he hasn’t aged a day in all that time. Darling truly is the all-American dog. Eternal and beautiful, just like us.

I know how you kids whisper and make up stories. I was the same when I was your age! A little mischief is healthy here and there. Back when I was in the schoolyard our favorite story was about Darling. One of my friends— what was her name— Betty? Well, Betty was convinced that Darling was a bunch of different dogs. She said there was some machine that gave us an identical Darling every 3 years, and that’s why he never seems to age. We’d tease her and ask where the old Darlings go. And she said they went away forever, just like the other dogs! I know, it’s a ridiculous story, verging on blasphemy, but it’s a little funny to think about. I imagined dozens of all-American Darlings lined up on a conveyor belt, headed to Lord-knows-where. I haven’t seen Betty in so long, but I can remember her silly story. Whatever happened to her?

I’m rambling again, Tom, sorry. No need to tell anyone about that, though. It’ll be our little secret. Maybe if you’re good and finish all your homework, we can walk to the ice cream dispenser and have a little treat. It’s so hot out today, we’ll have to wait until the sun goes down. I can’t remember the last time we could go out in the sun for something as silly as ice cream. You almost feel bad for the workers out there keeping the machine running. But someone has to do it!

When we get home, let’s turn on the TV and see if we can catch a glimpse of Darling. Wouldn’t that be nice?