#maybe i just like pining old men

[ceniwen]

Dan heng didn't get healing powers but jing yuan doesn't know that 🤷‍♂️

[rystiel]

idk what we’re all calling the concept of fiddlestan working together but i’m calling my version the portal partners AU 🙏🏼

[nanaslutt]

Best friend’s dad

ʚ ft. Toji Fushiguro

ʚ cont: fem reader, legal age gap (r! is in college), virgin reader, dry humping, fingering, oral (f!r), so much dirty talk, teasing, sexual tension, mutual pining, rough sex, multiple orgasms, dacraphillia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, big dick Toji

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

It wasn't at all uncommon for you to spend the night at Megumi's house, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't have alternative motives for wanting to stay the night so often. Luckily for you, Megumi didn't care much about your gross, taboo crush on his father. He wasn't completely unaware of how people looked at him in public, how solicitors lost their pitch when he opened the door. 

Toji Fushiguro was one of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, so what if he was old enough to be your dad? Clicking the buttons on your car remote, it locked with a honk as you made your way up to the Fushiguro's front door, bag in hand, ready to spend the night yet again. Finals had just finished, meaning you two had some time to relax, maybe order some food, maybe convince Fushiguro to finally invite his long-time crush, Itadori, over to spend the night as well. 

"It'll be perfect!" Your voice bordered on whining as you sat on your knees in front of Megumi and gripped his shoulders hard, shaking him back and forth. The dark-haired boy looked unimpressed, staring off into space as he waited for you to let go of him. "Look I even downloaded his favorite movies just for tonight!" You exclaimed, gesturing to the TV in front of you.

"How do you know his favorite movies?" Fushiguro asked, his eyes pointing at you like little slivers, his voice accusatory. "Relax loverboy, I asked for your sake." You deadpanned, shaking your head. You had been friends with Itadori almost as long as you'd known Megumi. When the three of you ended up at the same junior high all those years ago, you took the initiative to introduce them to each other, and the three of you have been inseparable ever since. 

Megumi pouted and looked away, a light blush dusting across his cheeks. The three of you had hung out many times before, but never the two of them alone, and never at his house. Because of Fushiguro's dad, he didn't bring people home often. His dad was a bit crass and intimidating, he didn't want to scare away any possible friends by introducing them to his dad prematurely, so you were the only one of Megumi's friends he'd med, besides friends here and there in passing, only having seen them for a moment when Megumi had to stop by the house to grab something. 

Fushiguro's groan made you snap your head away from the TV as you organized the movies in order so one would play after the other. Megumi had his face in his hands before he lifted his face, his hands dragging down the skin of his face. "What are you pouting about? I'm not taking no for an answer Fushiguro, tonight is the night." You said, emphasizing your words with your hands.

"It's not that... I'm worried about him meeting my dad." Megumi said, running a hand through his hair. You suppressed a giggle, covering your mouth, "He's not as scary as you think he is. Anyways, Itadori is good with people, he's not going to be put off by your dad Fushiguro." You said, watching Megumi's reaction to your words. He sighed, half rolling his eyes before they landed on yours. "You don't think he's scary because you're in love with him." Megumi deadpanned, looking almost disgusted at you.

You smirked, shaking your head. "I can think he's scary and hot at the same time." Megumi groaned at your words, he hated when you called his dad hot to his face. "Anyways if you're scared of that old man just say that., but Itadori will be different." You laughed, poking Megumi's shoulder. He quickly swatted at your hand, making you laugh and find the remote again. 

"Who's an old man?" A deeper, more mature voice echoed from the hall. You weren't given long to brace yourself before Megumi's door was being pushed open by a socked foot, the large figure coming into view as Toji Fushiguro himself crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. You felt your heart race, all the saliva left your mouth in an instant, so much for not being scared of him.

"You. Get out." Megumi said plainly, not even bothering to look in the direction of his father. You on the other hand, had your eyes glued to the older man, your eyes not so subtly tracing down his body, taking in the eye candy in front of you shamelessly. The tight black shirt he was wearing accentuated his muscles, the ridges of his abs standing out clear as day through the fabric, making the previously scarce saliva return to your mouth. 

You tried to resist the urge to stare at his bottom half when you realized he was wearing grey sweats. You don't know how those damn pants still had the ability to get you so hot when that's all you'd ever seen him wear, but they did the job well. Dragging your eyes back up his body, they landed on his face. Your heart nearly shot out of your mouth when you realized he was already looking at you. How long had he been watching you?

"I didn't see you when you came in," Toji said, tipping his head against the door. You almost missed the way his eyes looked over your body subtly as you sat on Megumi's bed, legs now crossed. You cleared your throat before you spoke, "I just got here, Mr. Fushiguro," You said, averting your eyes as you spoke. "Come find me and say hi next time, you're my favorite friend of Megumi's after all," Toji responded, taking the opportunity of you looking away to stare at how well your tits filled out the shirt you were wearing, your cleavage spilling out from the top.

It was rare you were wearing anything other than Megumi's clothes when you came over, so this was a sight for sore eyes, a sight he wasn't going to miss even if you caught him. After all, you were wearing that shirt in his house, he should have the right to look at you all he wants. His lidded eyes found your face once again, he didn't miss the way the tips of your ears had turned a bright red, he swallowed hard at the sight. You always got so fidgety so easy, he didn't even have to do anything. 

"She's the only friend of mine you know, idiot," Megumi interjected, keeping his eyes on his phone as he typed away. Toji's smirk grew, his eyes staying locked on yours even as his son spoke. "Doesn't change a thing." He replied, his tone suggestive.

He held eye contact with you for a moment, maybe even a second too long, your heartbeat becoming the only thing you could hear in your ears before he looked away, his body peeling off the wall as he grabbed the handle and closed it behind him. "Knock next time!" Fushiguro yelled as he heard his father's footsteps descend away from his door, getting heavier and heavier.

You sighed long and hard before you fell face-first into Megumi's comforter, letting out a string of squealing. "You're so gross, don't do that in front of me," Megumi said, giving you a hard side eye as he tapped away on his phone. "Anyways... while you were flirting with my dad I uh, I invited Itadori. He'll be on his way soon." Megumi said. You don't think your body has ever moved as fast as it did at that moment.

Sitting up you grabbed the tops of Megumi's knees and shook them, the back of his head hitting against the headboard in the process as you voiced your excitement. "Megumiiiii! This is gonna be so great!" You exclaimed. Megumi everted his eyes, a pout forming on his face as he blushed harder, a hand covering his face in the process.

"Okay, okay, enough." He said, his eyes squinting as he looked at the wall. Once you finally let go of Megumi, you ranted about how the night was going to go, laying out your master plan for the boy. Megumi pretended to be uninterested the entire time, but you both knew how much he was actually hanging onto your every word. He wanted this to go smoothly just as much as you did.

When Yuuji finally arrived, the meeting with Mr. Fushiguro had gone better than he ever expected. Itadori, ever the polite boy he was, ran excitedly up the the older Fushiguro and shook his hand with the grip of a thousand men, shaking it as he spewed praises about the man's son. Toji gave a knowing smirk to the dark-haired boy behind his friend as he desperately tried to pry Itadori away from his dad.

So far, everything was going to plan. Dinner had been eaten, and gossip had been spilled, mostly by you and Itadori, but Megumi was happy to be there, despite his scowl that said otherwise. Now the three of you were sat on the bed, ready to watch Itadori's favorite movies, unbeknownst to the pink-haired boy. You had purposefully left out the part in your plan where you were going to excuse yourself from the room when the movie started to allow Megumi and his long-time crush some alone time, as you knew Megumi probably wouldn't have invited him over in that case. 

You rested on your side at the end of the bed by the boy's feet, who sat together against Megumi's headboard, shoulders just inches away from touching, each time you glanced over at them the smile you gave Megumi combined with your wiggling eyebrows made him kick you in the back, an action Itadori seemed to miss. 

The room was dark as the movie came to life, a blanket draped over the bottom half of your body as you stared blankly at the TV, trying to pretend to be interested in the freaky and confusing plot of Itadori's favorite movie. You guessed Megumi was feeling the same way since you two shared the same taste in movies. Only he actually had a reason to pretend to be interested, you didnt. 

Before you fell asleep and ruined your master plan, you slid off the bed, trying not to get in the way of the TV. You threw the blanket on top of the two boys' legs, hoping at some point they would adjust it and get cozy together. Both boys looked over your way as you stood on your feet before looking back at them. "Bathroom?" Itadori asked, tilting his head at you like a puppy.

"Ah... Something like that, I'll be back in a second!" You said, putting on your best sincere smile as you looked between the boys. Yuji looked away first after acknowledging your words, Megumi stayed staring, a look on his face that read, Don't do this to me. You smiled, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you mouthed, "This is for your own good." Making Megumi press his lips tightly together in response. You swear you saw his eye twitch before you turned around and started for the door.

Closing Megumi's bedroom door behind you as quietly as possible, you pressed your back against it, smiling to yourself. Your eyes darted around the dark and quiet hallway as you tried to figure out what you were going to do to pass the time. The movie was almost three hours after all. You decided to head to the living room after a couple of moments of pondering. 

Toji would most likely be in his room by now, leaving you the kitchen and living area to yourself, the perfect place to lounge around by yourself as you gave the boys some space. As you tiptoed past Toji's room, you noticed it was completely silent through the door, not even a crack of light peaking under the wood. Toji had horrible sleeping habits from what you conjured since spending so much time here, so it was unusual for him to be asleep at this time, but it wasn't unusual for him to be in his room at this hour. 

You grabbed the railing as you fumbled in the darkness, tiptoeing down the stairs as you made your way to the living area. You were about to sigh in relief when you finally made it down the stairs without falling when you saw a faint blue light flashing from the direction of the living area. Poking your head around the corner, you caught a glimpse of the back of Toji's head. 

You felt your mouth run dry when your eyes focused in the dark and took in the expanse of Toji's bare arms and neck. Squinting your eyes, you could see his shoulders were bare too. Was he shirtless? It was then that you saw the towel slung over the back of the couch under Toij's large arm, his hair that glowed in the light of the TV appearing to be damp. 

You felt your face heat up. You've seen Toji shirtless before, and each time his impressive physique was in front of you, it made it impossible for you to focus on anything but how many indents were in between each of his abs. You tucked your head back behind the wall, Toji now out of view as you pressed your back against the wall. 

There was nowhere else in the house you could wait out the movie, besides maybe the bathroom, but if Itadori or Fushiguro needed to use the bathroom, it would be over. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and took deep, slow breaths, trying to calm your heart as you gathered the courage to walk out into the room.

Maybe you would get lucky and Toji wouldn't acknowledge your presence as you sat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, away from him and his insane body. Although you had told Megumi you weren't scared of him, you were partially lying. You were intimidated, especially when you were faced with him on your own.

Even after all your years of knowing Megumi, you've had very few conversations with Toji one one-on-one, never lasting long enough to get past the "How's your day?" question before Megumi popped back into the room and dragged you away. Your heart was still racing even after taking so many deep breaths, the past conversations you'd had with him replaying over and over in your head, unknowingly stressing you out.

After a few more moments of internal struggle, you peeled your ridged body off the wall and walked into the living area, trying to ignore Toji as you b-lined for the kitchen, an almost constipated look on your face as you held your breath. Toji turned his head around to face you when he heard your footsteps, his dark eyes following your body as you walked right past him without uttering so much as a word.

Just when you thought you'd gotten lucky, a very familiar, deep, pussy wetting voice echoed quietly through the almost silent room. "Ignoring me again? My feelings might get hurt if you keep this up." Your back was to him as you held the handles of the cabinet, freezing in place. You pressed your lips together in defeat, your eyes shutting for a brief moment before you turned on your heels to look at him. 

Only the Toji Fushiguro who was sitting on the couch just moments ago was now leaning forward on the back of the bar chair on the opposite side of the kitchen island from you, one large hand gripping the back of the chair, the other holding a beer bottle. Sure enough, your eyes hadn't been deceiving you back then. Toji was completely shirtless, his sweats hung lowly on his hips. You prayed he didnt catch the way your eyes flitted down his body, staring long enough to notice the veins on his v-line, before you caught yourself.

You met his eyes for only a moment before you looked away, your body stuttering as you turned around and reached back up to the cabinet for a glass, a heat creeping up your neck.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you." You said, clearing your throat before you spoke. You shut the cabinet quietly before stepping over to the sink and filling your glass. "Such a sweetheart." Toji praised, his words making your hand squeeze the glass a little tighter. 

Toji took the chance to rake his eyes down the back of your body. He could easily see how tense you were, how the muscles in your arms and back tensed and released each time he spoke. You were almost vibrating with nervousness, and he was eating it up. You locked eyes with him as you turned around, sitting back against the sink, your legs pressed tightly together, looking ever so ridged. 

"What are you doing down here anyways huh? Thought you were watchin' a movie with the boys." Toji asked, bringing his beer to his lips, all while keeping his eyes on you. You hesitated before you spoke, you knew Toji didn't care about things like two boys being together, but you didn't know if he knew Megumi was into boys. "Just uh... not my kinda movie." You said, quickly bringing the glass to your lips to hide your lie. 

"Mmm," Toji responded, keeping his eyes on yours even after you looked away. "Wanna watch a movie with me then? I'll let you pick 'n everything." Toji said, tilting his head over to the couch. If your mouth wasn't dry before, it was now. It was so impossibly hard not to ogle his body. It was right in front of you, and he was so toned and impressive like he spent years on it. It's like he wanted someone to look at it, to appreciate it. And god if you were given the chance, you would. 

You had no real reason not to accept his invitation, besides the fact that you were positive you were already drenching your panties, and you weren't sure if you could hold a coherent conversation with him without panting like a dog and staring at his body like he's some piece of meat. You rubbed your lips together nervously before your eyes found him again and you nodded.

A smirk spread across Toji's features, one that made your knees weak. "Good. You wanna beer or anything first?" Toji offered before he rounded the counter and placed the empty bottle by the sink, his body now dangerously close to yours. Each time he was this close to you, it was impossible to not think about how prominent your size difference was. He was bigger than you in every way, it made you shiver.

"Please." You responded, nodding. A drink would either help you fucking relax, or make your horniess and self-awareness ten thousand times worse, you would find out soon, but you had to try something and quick before you pounced on him. "So polite too. Love that." Toji smiled before you felt a heavy pressure against your head. His hand retracted before you could even register what happened.

You were stuck staring blankly at the expanse of his large, toned back as he opened the fridge and grabbed two new beers, holding the tops of them in one hand between his fingers. He looked at you over his shoulder as gestured with his head toward the TV before he started for it, you following hot on his trail. 

Toji sat down first, his legs spreading wide as he patted the cushion next to him, inviting you to sit down. The TV was on, but muted, only colorful lights illuminated his and your bodies as you stood in front of the TV. Toji leaned forward and started taking the caps off your beers while you got situated next to him.

You kept your distance a bit as you finally sat down, the purposeful action not being missed by the ever-so-observant man next to you. "Don't be scared sweetheart, I won't bite," Toji said teasingly, resting his arm close to you out over the back of the couch behind you as he held your beer out for you with his other. "Sorry." You mumbled, taking the drink from his hand. 

"You scared of me? After all this time?" Toji laughed, his body angled a little towards you, his knee almost bumping into yours as you sat formally next to him, legs pressed firmly together. You were about to continue when Toji spoke first, adding, "Is it 'cos I'm your boyfriend's dad?" You swear in that moment the world stopped rotating on its axis. The reaction you gave him was the most emotion he's seen from you all night.

Leaning closer to Toji, you scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion, a look of almost disgust plastered on your face. "You think Megumi is my boyfriend??" you asked incredulously, making Toji's eyes open a bit in response to your visceral reaction. "I figured from how often you spend the night over here. Always hangin' out in his bedroom with the door shut." Toji said, a look of amusement on his face.

Your hands shot up in front of you as you quickly waved them back and forth, shaking your head from side to side at the same time. "Ohhhhh nonononono, no. NO." You said, your tone getting firmer with every no you uttered. Toji let out a deep chuckle, the sound warming you up from the inside out. "Sorry, guess I should've assumed then," Toji said before he reached out and patted your knee, making your body go ridged again.

The touch was gone before you knew it, much like the one in the kitchen. "I don't have to feel bad then," Toji mumbled under his breath before he took a gulp of his drink. You were going to ask him to repeat what he said before he spoke again, cutting you off. "So, you gotta boyfriend then? Can't imagine he's so cool with you sleepin' over at some other guy's house so often." Toji pushed, his eyes tracing over your form almost unnoticeably from the sides of his eyes. 

Your eyes were not in front of you, watching the colors and words on the TV change as you took in his words while you sipped on your drink, the bitter liquid making your throat burn as it went down. "No, I've never had a boyfriend." You said, your body relaxing against the couch as you were swept up in thought.

Toji found this extremely enticing, his knee closest to you bending on the couch as he now turned his body fully to face you, drink resting against his knee as he held his face with his palm, elbow resting against the back of the couch. "No? You're such a pretty little thing, can't imagine you'd run into problems finding a boyfriend." Toji's praise made your whole body vibrate with a newfound heat. You kept your body facing forward but turned your head to face him, unable to stop yourself from running your eyes down his body once before you found his eyes.

"It's not like I've never had crushes or anything, but all throughout high school, and even now in college, Megumi... he scares guys away." You say, sighing before you look away. "He doesn't mean to, but he can come off as intimidating sometimes, so guys don't approach me when he's around... which is most of the time." You finish, shaking your head.

Toji hummed in acknowledgment as he listened to you speak, all the while staring shamelessly at your tits from the side, his eyes dark. "You want a boyfriend?" He asked, sipping on his beer while he kept his eyes on your chest. He swallowed hard when you leaned fully back against the couch abruptly, your cleavage jiggling from the top of your shirt. You placed the beer bottle between your thighs and rubbed your knees, your face screwing in all kinds of ways as you thought.

"Sometimes." You replied when you had decided on an answer. Toji could tell you were much more relaxed now. Leaning forward, he plucked your half-empty drink from between your thighs and placed it on the coffee table, along with his own before he went back to resting on his hand like nothing happened. The small gesture had made your heart race again after it had been so calm too.

Your palms felt sweaty as you rubbed your knees, suddenly so acutely aware of his eyes on you. "Why's that?" Toji pushed, his knee threatening to bump into yours. He hadn't moved, but he seemed so much closer now. Or maybe it was just your senses heightening as you were suddenly more aware of his arm behind your shoulders, his collarbones flexing every time he moved.

You shrugged before looking at him, turning your face fully to look at him this time, your legs staying firmly pressed together. You felt yourself throb when your eyes locked on his, his gaze darker and more intense than before. "You want someone to take care of you?" Toji asked, keeping his wording vague on purpose to tease you. And tease you it did. You tried to rub your thighs together subtly as your eyebrows furrowed with your growing arousal.

You tried to keep your eyes on his as you nodded. You didn't know if it was your own arousal and slight tipsyness, but the air in the room seemed to shift. Toji reached out and caressed your face with the palm of his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His touch was so delicate compared to how rough his skin felt against you. "You drunk?" Toji asked, probably noticing the fuzziness in your eyes, only it wasn't from the alcohol.

"No." You replied, leaning against his touch instinctively despite every alarm going off in your head that was telling you you shouldn't be doing this. "You look warm, you sure? Can't even look at me right." Toji teased, cocking his head to the side as he ran his hand up to your forehead, feeling how hot your skin felt. You pressed your thighs together harder, feeling yourself throb as he touched you so freely. "It's not 'cos of the alcohol." You whispered, part of you hoping he wouldn't catch your words.

Toji's smirk grew before he dragged his eyes up from your plush lips to your eyes, his gaze dark and telling. "No?" He asked, his eyebrows raising in question. "What is it then?" Toji pushed, subtly and slowly leaning closer to you, trying to get you to open up to him. Just when you were about to answer, the sound of someone falling down the stairs shook you out of the headspace you were in.

Toji didn't even flinch, instead turning his head to look at the source of noise as you jerked your body away from him, putting some distance between yourselves as his hand dropped from your face. A few moments later the familiar siloet of Yuji Itadori popped out from behind the wall, rubbing the back of his head in pain. He froze in place when he saw the two of you staring at him before his head tilted in confusion.

"Huh? What are you doing down here?" You suppressed the urge to giggle as you stared at the pink-haired boy who quickly resumed his pace for the kitchen. "Oh uh, just wasn't super into the movie." You lied through your teeth, the shakiness in your voice only making sense to the older man in front of you whose attention was now on you, his eyes staring right through you. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, we can watch something else if you want." Itadori offered sweetly as he grabbed two cans of soda out from the fridge before closing it and walking up behind the couch. Your eyes almost shot out of your sockets when you felt a warm hand engulf your thigh. Your eyes shot over to Toji's for half a second before they were back on Yujis. "No worries!" You said, shaking your hands out in front of you, praying he wouldn't get any closer to notice Megumi's dad's hand on your thigh, his thick rubbing teasing circles against it. 

"Me and Mr. Fushiguro are watching something instead! Go spend some alone time with Megumi!" You said, shaking your head rapidly, trying to ignore how hot you felt between your thighs as you placed your hand on top of the older Fushiguro's, begging him not to tease you right now. That only made him slide his hand up further, the tips of his fingers teasing right under the fabric of your shorts, making you suppress a whimper. 

Itadori smiled at your words, the tips of his ears turning red. "Yeah, alright." He said, nodding at you, "But if you change your mind, the movie doesn't have that much left so you can join us whenever!" He was so kind, you felt so bad you didn't comprehend a single word he said as you dug your nails into Toji's wrist, who was now licking his lips as his fingers were lost deeper and deeper under your shorts.

You nodded, making sure the pink-haired boy was out of sight and up the stairs before you let out the breath you were holding. "What are you doing?" You stuttered, your words coming out breathy and needy. Toji slid his hand fully under the fabric of your shorts before he gripped the fat of your thighs, his thumb pinching the fat right next to your panties, making your eyes flutter.

"You were gonna tell me what had you all squirmy before that kid came down here," Toji said, retracting his hand from under your shorts, leaving your skin feeling hot where he last touched it. Your brain was short-circuiting at this point. No one had ever touched you the way Toji was touching you right now, and you had no idea why he was. You couldn't stop yourself from dragging your eyes down his torso and falling on his lap.

There was an extremely noticeable bulge in his sweat where his cock was, making you swallow all the saliva in your now dry mouth. Toji licked his lips as he watched your eyes trail over his body, making him feel hot. "I see the way you look at me," Toji whispered before the hand he held on the back of the couch slid down to the back of your neck, gripping your nape.

"I-" you were about to respond when he continued, "I hear you. Hear the way you talk about me to my son." Toji adds, making any denial or rebuttal you had vanished in an instant. "I feel the way you're pressing your thighs together right now." The grip on your neck tightened before his fingers started rubbing against you, sliding a bit down your back before caressing back up to your nape. 

"I've been around long enough to notice when a woman is aroused." You swallowed hard at his insinuating words. "You a virgin?" Toji continued, his question making your veins run cold. "Cos you're sure actin' like one." He laughed at his own words, making your face heat up in embarrassment. "Mr. Fushiguro..." You started, unsure of what you even wanted to say as you whispered his name, pouting at him,

"You said you want someone to take care of you right?" He asked before the hand on your nape was sliding down your back again. His arm wrapped around your torso and pulled you close to him, making your heart race in your chest, the sound of it loud in your ears. Using his other hand he situated you on his lap, spreading your thighs over his, the neediest part of you pressing right on top of his crotch, which was hard and hot under you.

"Tell me you want this and I'll make you feel so good pretty girl, not into forcing a girl to do shit she doesn't wanna do," Toji said, making you swallow hard at his words. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't imagined what he was like in bed before. He was so domineering and intimidating, he seemed like the kind of guy who wanted you to verbalize what you wanted in bed, and you were quickly finding out that was true.

One of Toji's large hands rested on your upper thigh as his other reached up and caressed your cheek, trying to get you to relax. "What if Megumi or Itadori comes down here? What if we get caught?" You whisper, averting your eyes from his when his lustful gaze proved too much to handle. Toji could feel how your cunt pulsed and throbbed on top of him even through all the layers of clothes. He knew Megumi didn't care about your crush on him, and he knew even more that you wanted this. You were just nervous and he would say anything you wanted to reassure you.

"No one is coming down here," Toji said, caressing your thigh. "It's just you and me sweet thing," Toji emphasized his words by pressing his hips up into yours, his hard cock pressing harder against you, making your eyes flutter shut for a second. After a few more moments of Toji patiently caressing your face, waiting for your brain to work and decide your answer, you finally nodded before speaking the words that sealed your fate, "I want it."

Toji smiled before he thrust his hips slowly up against you again, watching how your body relaxed from the shallow teasing. "Want what?" He asked, licking his lips as he kept his eyes on yours. Your breathing was now fast and staggered as you met his hips with your own, slowly rolling your cunt against him, bringing yourself some relief. "Want you to make me feel good." You responded, your face growing hotter at the admission.

Toji picked up the pace of his hips, your body now bouncing on top of his as he dry-humped you a little faster. He dropped his hand from your face and placed both of them behind you on your hips, helping you rock yourself against him. "Yeah?" He responded, his eyebrows furrowing together as he teased you. "Want me to make you feel good?" He teased, his hands grip on your hips bruising. "Want me to make you cum?" His words made you nod your head furiously as whimpers fell from your lips, his part cock rubbing perfectly against your clit through all the layers of clothing. 

He groaned through his teeth, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he rested his head back against the couch, watching the way your almost limp body rocked on top of him, your hands grabbing firmly on his forearms, steadying yourself. "Wanted you for so long, you know that?" Toji confessed, feeling his cock drip pre-cum steadily into his boxers. He was leaking so much, he felt like a teenager again.

You whined at his words, one of your hands leaving his forearm to press against your mouth, half to suppress your noises, half to cover yourself out of embarrassment. "Wanted to fuck you every time I saw you walk around my house in nothing but a t-shirt." He continued babbling, dragging you faster along his clothed cock. "Had to fucking rub one out every time you looked at me with those pretty eyes, so submissive 'n scared." You caught a gasp behind your hand. He got off to you? He's been getting off to you?

"Haven't been able to fuck anyone but my fist since I set my eyes on you." Toji groaned, his cock throbbing hard against his pants as he spoke, his voice getting rougher. "You gonna let me fuck you tonight?" Toji asked, smiling with his mouth slightly parted, arousal leaking out of his words. Looking down at his cock, you could see how big it was even covered by his sweats. Sure you had fucked yourself on a dildo before, but nothing compared to Toji's size.

"I don't... I don't know how to" You started, uncovering your mouth as you spoke, your eyes finding him again. "Don't worry about a thing sweetheart, just gotta lay there while I drill my cock into you." You screamed internally, how could he say such shameless things so easily? "Okay, okay you can fuck me." you said quietly, your eyebrows furrowing together as you spoke, keeping your eyes on him.

The groan that left Toji's lips was raw and unrestrained, if his cock and balls didn't ache before, they sure as hell did now. "Good choice princess, I'll fuck you so good," Toji promised. He only let you rock back and forth a few more times before he spun your body around and placed your back against his chest, your legs being spread apart by his large hands. "Can't take this dry-humping shit anymore though. Gonna blow my load in my pants if we keep that up." Toji groaned, almost pouting. He was more sensitive than he would care to admit, just a few minutes of dry humping and he was already ready to cum.

You tried to focus on what was happening now as you took in the woody, familiar smell of Toji's scent. His abs felt so hard agaisnt your back, and his breath that was tickling your shoulders and neck each time he exhaled sent shivers down your spine, he was so close, so all-consuming, so overwhelming. Your head was being forced to the side by his own as he dropped his head down to the crook of your neck and began sucking against your pulse point, making you gasp into the air.

"Keep m' open," Toji whispered, his voice deep against your ear as he released one of your legs and slowly dragged his fingertips along the inside of your thigh, tickling your skin. You felt yourself throb each time he got closer and closer to where you needed him most. "You masturbate?" Toji asked, his lips disconnecting from your neck and switching to your ear, his sharp teeth nibbling against the shell of it.

His words caught you off guard as you looked down between your legs to watch his hand that was getting dangerously close to your cunt. You hesitated before nodding. You felt his cock twitch against your ass. His fingers hovered just above your cunt as you subtly wiggled against him, trying to get him to touch you. "How do you do it?" He pressed before tapping his fingers against your clit, pausing after every few touches.

You moaned and wiggled against him, trying to be as conscious as possible about how loud you were being. "Mr. Fushiguro-" You whined, not wanting to answer his embarrassing question. "Toji." He corrected before continuing, "Do you rub your clit till you cum? Do you finger yourself? Both?" His voice was so deep and rough next to your ear, that you couldn't help but moan. "Both..." You whispered, your eyes squeezing shut. Toji groaned before he slipped his hand under your shorts and panties with ease before finding your clit expertly and rubbing it.

It felt so hot in your shorts, the wetness of your cunt was rubbing against the back of his hand from how drenched your panties were. "Like this?" Toji asked, his eyes staring at your pretty face that was screwed in pleasure, your mouth falling open and closed like a fish out of water. His fingers were so large, and he rubbed your clit perfectly with just his middle finger, small quick circles rubbing expertly against the little bud.

"What do you think about when you touch yourself?" He continued, his voice only trying the knot in your stomach even deeper. "You think about gettin' fucked in your tight virgin pussy? Think about someone's mouth on you?" His fingers were faster now, small noises of slickness were spilling out from your panties, echoing into your ears from how wet you were. "T-think about you" You cried, your legs flexing as they fought to stay open, obeying Toji's words.

Toji groaned before he started rubbing his fingers lower, right over your wet, slick-covered hole. "You flatter me. So it's my cock you think about fucking you." Toji grinned as he singled out his middle finger and pressed it against your hole, your pussy greedily swallowing up his finger as he watched your jaw fall open. "So fucking tight..." Toji mumbled under his breath before he slowly pumped it in and out of you, curling his finger upwards to rub against your g-spot each time it was inside. 

"Toji-" You gasped, your abdominal muscles clenching each time he thrust his finger into you. "You ever think about my tongue on your pussy?" He asked, kissing the side of your face and jawline, teasing you with his plush lips. You nod quickly, your breathing now erratic and high-pitched. Toji pulled his finger almost completely out before he reentered your cunt with a second finger, the stretch from his thick fingers making you furrow your eyebrows together, but the discomfort subsided fast.

Toji kept his fingers fully inside you and opted to just curl them rapidly against your g-spot rather than thrust them in and out, resulting in his warm palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your eyes shot open at the intense feeling, your head dropped to watch his hand bulge out from under your shorts. "That feels good huh?" He asked, smiling as your smaller hands gripped tightly around his thick forearm as he got you off. 

"I'm gonna cum-" You cried, your head falling back against his shoulder. Toji repressed the urge to speed up his fingers as he watched you start to unravel on him, his excitement growing the more debauched he watched you get. By now, Toji's entire palm and fingers were covered in your slick, and your panties and shorts were as good as ruined. Just when you thought you were about to get pushed off the edge, an idea popped into Toji's head, resulting in him stopping and pulling his fingers out completely.

You didn't even have time to complain before you were on your back on the sofa and your shorts and panties were being pulled off your legs, and thrown onto the floor to be forgotten about. "Wha-" Toji looked so serious and needy, his cock poking straight out of his pants, looking almost painful. The underside of your thighs was being pushed up as Toji lay between your thighs. He wasted no time in latching his lips around your clit and sucking, hard. 

He placed your legs on his shoulders and kept you firmly against his face with his hand pressing against one of your thighs around his head. You covered your mouth with one hand and gripped his hair harshly with the other, your nails scratching his head as your back arched at the intense pleasure. Toji groaned against you, sending vibrations through your pussy as he shook his head back and forth. You felt that familiar pressure inside of you when Toji slipped his other hand under his mouth and continued fingering you again.

In seconds you were already worked back up to your high. "Fuck!" You yelled behind your hand, your thighs squeezing around his head. "H-haah I'm gonna cum Toji- T-toji- Toji I'm cummin-" The older man smiled against your before he took your clit back in his mouth, shaking his head rapidly as he curled his fingers hard into your g-spot, pulling your orgasm out of you.

Toji's cock throbbed painfully in his boxers when your pussy squeezed around his fingers, feeling like they were going to cut off his circulation. His eyes stayed on your face as he took in the way you looked when you orgasmed, not wanting to miss a single reaction despite how badly his eyes wanted to roll back in his head. "Good fucking girl" Toji growled, squeezing your thigh before he smacked it softly. "You taste so fucking good on my god." Toji groaned in disbelief, sucking your cum off his fingers shamelessly. 

You were still catching your breath when Toji sat up. Your eyes were all out of focus and your body twitching in the aftershocks but you still saw the way Toji jerked himself off through his pants as he sucked your cum off his fingers from the slick on his chin. "I gotta get inside you, I can't take much more." Toji groaned, his wet hand rubbing up and down your thigh. He kept his eyes on yours as you watched him reach into his sweats and pull his cock out. 

Just as you suspected, it was huge. His tip looked so angry and you could see how hard he was throbbing. String after string of pre-cum dripped from the tip of his cock as he spread his wetness down his length, lubing himself up for you. "It's so big, is it gonna fit?" You asked, covering your cunt with your hand as you pressed your thighs together, still breathing heavily. Toji continued to stroke himself off as he climbed over you, his hand caging you under him. "I'll make it fit." He whispered, making you whine.

"Lay on your stomach for me princess, legs together and straight out behind you," Toji instructed. You did as you were told. Your upper half was still clothed in a t-shirt, but your bare ass was exposed to Toji's eyes as you flipped over, pressing your thighs together. Toji reached behind him and grabbed a small decorative pillow. "Knew this stupid shit would come in handy for something," Toji said, laughing to himself as he let go of his cock and lifted your hips off the couch before stuffing the pillow under your pelvis.

"I'll feel better this way," Toji told you as he sat back on his heels, pulling your ass apart to get a better view of your cunt as he jerked off over your ass. "Why?" You asked, resting your head on the side of your crossed arms as you looked at Toji from your peripherals. Toji smiled at you as he leaned over your body, his hips flush against your ass as he rubbed his cock between your cheeks, his hand resting on the couch next to your head.

"You remember that spot I was rubbin' inside you a second ago? The one that made you cum so fast?" Toji teased, making you look away in embarrassment before you nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of his cock rubbing between your ass. "It'll put pressure on your tummy where that spot is, so when I fuck you It'll be pressin' against my cock, makes it feel realll intense," Toji explained as he angled his cock down to the entrance of your pussy, trying to distract you with his words. 

"You think I can handle it?" You asked, suddenly a little nervous. You had already gone dumb just from a few fingers, you had no idea how you were going to react to his cock. Toji pressed the tip of his cock against your tight little hole teasingly, slowly pressing against it to see how much force it would take to fuck into you. "You can handle it because you're my good girl aren't you?" Toji asked, watching your face as he nudged your pussy lips apart, pressing his cock into you.

Your face screwed in pleasure as you nodded, keeping your eyes on his as he slowly fed you his cock. Tears began to well up in your eyes as your jaw fell open in a silent scream. Toji's head felt like it was filled with clouds, your pussy was making him dumb and he was only two inches inside. The older man cooed at your pathetic face before he leaned forward and captured your lips in a messy kiss, immediately forcing his tongue between your lips and into your mouth, overwhelming you.

The two of you groaned into the other's mouth as he penetrated you, finding a little more resistance than he expected even though you had already come once and were so wet and soft inside. "I got you, relax baby girl, gotta loosen up so I can fuck you," Toji whispered between kisses, his voice strained and hoarse as he tried to talk you through it.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks as you did your best to relax your cunt around him, letting him slide in easier. "There you go, I got you, I got you." Toji's words were much softer compared to his mean cock that was bullying your pussy and stretching you open. You slid one of your hands under your tummy between the pillow and pressed against your pelvis. It felt so tight and full. Toji groaned at the added pressure as he gave you a second to adjust to his size. 

"It- It's so big." You said between gasps. "But you took the whole thing," Toji said, pressing his lips to the side of your face. Your walls clenched around him rhythmically, the pain slowly turning into pleasure the more you cockwarmed him. "Ready for me to move?" Toji suggested, more out of his own impatience than anything. He didn't know how much longer he could take feeling you squeeze around him without moving his hips. 

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation. "That's my girl." He said before he pulled his hips out and slammed them back against you. From the position and the pressure on your lower stomach, his cock jabbed right into your sweet spot, making you kick your knees up and release a loud moan, one that made Toji lean over your back and press his hand firmly over your mouth. His weight against you felt suffocating but calming as he stayed still, throbbing inside you.

Toji released a small, deep laugh against your ear as your eyes stared at the floor all out of focus. "Shhhhh... you gotta be quiet for me princess. You don't want me to have to stop if we get caught, right?" Toji asked, his voice full of teasing. You shook your head quickly, trying to bounce your hips back into his, your moans and gasps muffled by his hand, now only puffs of air able to escape your nose. 

"Yeah, me neither," Toji whispered against his ear before he started humping into you again, his hips smacking against your ass lewdly with every thrust. If either of the boys even left the sanctity of Megumi's room, the loud sounds of skin slapping together would be heard from down the stairs, giving you away, but Toji didn't care. Not with the way your cunt was sucking him in.

You whined at the loss each time he pulled his cock out of you, but your eyes rolled back in your head as a lewd moan left your lips when he fucked it back inside you, the warmth in your belly returning. Toji could feel himself leak inside your cunt, his balls throbbing with each thrust.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck and wrapped his other hand under your tummy, pressing it against yours that rested against your tummy. "You feel me in there?" Toji groaned into your ear, rolling his hips in circles against your ass as he emphasized his words, making you feel his cock inside you from outside your tummy. You groaned into his hand, your pretty eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling.

"I'm so fucking deep, balls fucking deep." Toji groaned, already pussydrunk as he babbled nonsense while he crushed you with his body weight. His chest was so hot and sweaty against your back as your shirt riding up with each of his thrusts, but his warm skin didnt feel too bad agaisnt your ass. "Mhmm-mhmm" You whined against his hand, nodding your head at his words as hot tears spilled down your cheeks.

"Best fucking pussy I ever had, so warm n' soft, makin' me feel like I'm gonna cum already." Toji laughed, biting down on the shell of your ear. Your knees kicked and curled helplessly behind him each time he fucked his fat cock inside your cunt, overwhelming you. Each time he spoke it made you clench tighter and tighter around him, his voice was even more sexy when he was pussy-drunk. You prayed this wouldn't just be a one-time thing. Now that you finally crossed this line, you hoped it would stay that way.

"Harder-" You moaned against his hand, the plea coming out muffled. "Wan' me to fuck you harder? I can do that for you baby." Toji grinned at your eagerness before he brought his hips back till just the tip of his cock remained inside you then slammed it all in at once, making your eyes roll back in your head. 

He gave you no time to even process his change in roughness before he was beating your pussy up ruthlessly, his cock slamming straight into your sweet spot. You shook your head back and forth against Toji's hand as your eyebrows furrowed and you felt yourself get worked up to yet another orgasm. "Toji!" You screamed against his palm, his name getting broken up between your moans. Toji released your mouth and grabbed your chin, turning your head to the side so he could kiss you again.

He swallowed your moans greedily as he fucked his tongue into your mouth. The kiss was full of teeth and tongue, saliva spilling down your chin from how messy it was. Toji was now panting into your mouth, his hips getting rougher but sloppier as he used your cunt to reach his orgasm. "Toji- Toji I think m' gunna cum!" You whined as he kept kissing you while you spoke, his head completely in the clouds.

"Let me feel it, cum on my cock baby, cmon, cum on me," Toji begged, his voice breathier and needier than before. Your orgasm crashed over you only seconds later, your cunt contracting around Toji ten times tighter than before. He couldn't even mind that you were now moaning freely into the air as his lips detached from yours, his head falling into the crook of your neck as the muscles in his legs trembled from the feeling of you squeezing him.

"Ohmygod." Toji grit through his teeth, his eyes rolling back in his head as you spasmed around him, your cum dripping down his balls. "Gonna cum too pretty, gonna let me cum inside? Get you all full of my cum? Huh?" Toji asked, biting down on your shoulder hard as he waited for your answer. Despite how fucked out you were, you still had half a mind to nod at him, chants of his name falling from your lips as you begged him to cum inside you.

"I'm gonna give it to you baby, fuck- oh fuck it's coming- I'm cumming!" Toji's teeth nearly broke the skin of your shoulder from how hard he bit down as his orgasm hit him. His hips stilled against your ass save for jerking and spasming of his body as he released his seed deep inside your cunt, long, deep groans spilling from between his lips. "Take it, f-fucking take it, milk my fucking cock." Toji groaned.

You felt his abs clenching against your lower back as he emptied his balls inside you, a sudden warmth filling up your tummy as he filled you to the brim with his seed. You both gasped heavily against one another, fighting to catch your breath. "Fuck.." Toji groaned, "Haven't cum that hard in my life, thought I was gonna pass out." He laughed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pushing his sweaty chest off your back.

Toji sat back on his knees as he pulled out his cock, gripping the base of it as he did. Toji smirked when you whined as he slipped his cock out of you, his cum spilling from your hole as he did. Toji whistled before he spread your ass apart, watching how his cum dripped from your little hole. "Probably shoulda asked before, but you on birth control?" Toji asked before he lifted you from under your arms and laid your limp body against his chest.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and nodded, still trying to come back to reality as you processed what just happened. Toji internally sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around you, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. "You did so fucking well pretty girl, it hurt anywhere?" Toji asked, leaning back agaisnt the back of the couch, resting with your body on top of him.

"Hurts everywhere." You mumbled, resulting in a laugh from the older man, the movement from it shaking your body. "Painkillers n' a bath n' you'll be fine." He said, squeezing his arms tighter around you. "You gonna take responsibility?" You asked, your voice coming out weak against his shoulder. "If you're asking me to join you in the bath, sure, but no promises my cock won't end up inside you again."

You grimaced at his words, sitting up as you place your hands on his pecs, shaking your head back and forth as your cunt started aching already. "On second thought I think I can do it myself," Toji smirked before he tipped his head to the side on the couch, looking you up and down. "Twenty bucks you fall in the first five seconds you stand up." You pursed your lips in annoyance, flexing your thighs under him to see if he was right.

Your thighs shook the instant you tensed them, and not just a little either. The kind of shake that told you you needed 5-7 business days before you were walking without a limp. Toji looked down at you shaking legs before he glanced up at you from under his lashes, looking at you with an "I told you so" expression on his face. "Let me borrow one of your canes please." You said, pressing your lips together. Toji gripped your chin and brought your face close to his. "Brat." He whispered against your lips before kissing you slowly and passionately.

Your body melted against him as he kissed you like it was your last day on earth. Although the kiss was slower than the others he'd given you, it still made you go dumb in the head as his tongue intertwined with yours. The kiss made you forget all the aches in pains in your body as his expert tongue washed them all away.

[moonyflesh]

dating Logan Howlett would include…

WARNINGS: smutty. p in v, oral sex, fingering, breeding kink, orgasm teasing/control, mentions of aggressive/risky sex, (language, obviously), etc. - [🔞]

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (MARVEL/X-MEN/WOLVERINE)

🐾 .*.. 🩹

- possessive smacks on the ass when you pass him in the hall.

- all talk, but no bite (he would never actually hurt you).

- routine scalp massages (on both ends), usually ending in you both being passed out on the other’s bed.

- having to label what food is yours, or he will eat it.

- constantly scolding him for his chapped lips…where he continuously looses the chapsticks you graciously lend him (he always buys you more).

- playful banter that usually ends with you bent over whatever flat surface is nearby.

- having to get used to loud chewing. i mean, it’s Logan. what do you expect?

- not much physical show of affection in public- that’s reserved for behind closed doors. (an occasional press of his lips to your forehead, or his hand on the small of your back is as far as he’s willing to put on display for the student’s prying eyes).

- thriving off of each other’s warmth at night- tangled up in each other under some thin duvet.

- country, bluegrass, and old as fuck music. don’t you dare even think about turning on “that shitty music you like so much” around him.

- being turned on by your makeup on him in some way— lipstick prints smeared along the collar of his white t-shirt- your mascara running down your face and smearing onto his fingers when he wipes it off.

- (^) just you making an absolute mess on him in general. he fucking loves it.

- needing to take sharp intakes of breath in between his kisses, since he physically can hold his breath for much longer than the “average mutant”.

- rough, meaningful sex. there is no such thing as a ‘quickie’ in his book. he wants to savor your moments of vulnerability.

- more teeth than tongue. he wants to feel how you squirm under him when his canines sink into your lips, shoulders, and inner thighs.

- (^) lovebites and hickeys. you’re not allowed to leave the house unless there’s something that’s marking you as taken. as his.

- wearing his clothes when he’s gone for long periods of time.

- long motorcycle rides, usually at night. (he makes you wear a helmet and plenty of protective leather, much to his enjoyment).

- soaking in your scent. he always knows when your needy. he can smell it on you.

- oh, and he smells like cedar wood and pine. Maybe a bit of cigar smoke- his natural sweat smell he can’t seem to get rid of? Something Iike that.

- (^) him going absolutely feral when he can smell himself on you- his cologne, cigars- just his general aura on you is such a massive turn on for him.

- lots of loving nips and kisses, though. constantly has his lips pressed against the nape of your neck or crown of your skull.

- sleeps with you in his arms. no way in hell you’re allowed to wake up before him.

- face sitting. he wants every pound of you on his mouth and nose, his arms wrapped up and around your thighs, pushing your cunt into his tongue.

- wanting to feel good too. no matter how hard he’s been going down on you, he wants release, too.

- praise. lots of shrewd language and name-calling.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“fuck, that’s my good fucking girl- you’re doing so good, sweetheart- so pretty all sweaty and wet cuzzah’ me, huh?”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

- face fucking. he’ll stop no matter how close he is to his peak if you need him to, but he wants it so far down your throat. and you better swallow every last drop.

- breeding kink? idk i just feel like he’s super into seeing you carry his kid (only when you’re ready, though. he of all people knows what a big deal pregnancy is).

- decent aftercare. he at least puts some amount of effort into it; probably brings you a glass of lukewarm water, a damp towel from his bathroom, maybe one of his t-shirts if he thinks of it.

- expect to wait a while for him to say “i love you” back. he’s been hurt. too many times. he loves you, he breathes you, he craves you. he just doesn’t know if he’s ready to actually admit that to himself yet, let alone to you.

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[comfortless]

Only Other

chapter one of three.

Goth soldier! König x fem, Roman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of gore, groping, dubcon sword/knifeplay. additional warnings will be added to the next two chapters.

notes: for @writersdrug’s request. ^^

wc: 11k.

The barbarians are here.

The dream of river water lapping over your knees and songbirds in swaying trees fades out into a hazy fog as you begin to rise, dropping your legs from the mattress to spur yourself to move across the small room as quietly as your feet can carry you.

Heavy footfalls and staggering hoof beats from their horses weighed down by heavy sacks of supplies is what has pulled you from sleep.

The flames of their torches crackle, accompanied by the shrieks of clanging, well-polished metals singing out as if in the throes of war becomes a dull song; weapons, wicked and crudely crafted unlike the spears of the soldiers donned in red you were so accustomed to by now.

You had heard the whispers on the wind of the untamed beasts from Germania filtering in, settling down here; their arms and their blood for just a sliver of land to claim, soil to birth farmland, a semblance of peace from within the walls of the great empire.

Never, in these small words from gossiping tongues, did you suspect that these rugged men would be taking to camp so very close to your city. Not only that… they’ve been accepted into the walls, the door flung open for them with their gnashing teeth and thick, ugly weapons. These men of myth were usually set further out into the countryside, far from view of polite people to sow seed in soft fields, build the little shacks that seemed far too fragile for their rugged forms that could never compare to the villas built here.

Peering over the sill of the open window, stretching your upper half out into crisp night air to catch a glimpse of torches sailing along the breeze, flames just as ever-shifting as their darkened silhouettes, your breath seems to halt entirely. They look the trueness of harbingers like this: each somehow more imposing than the one they follow behind. You count only two horses split between the eight men of this small band.

Could any of them even speak in your tongue?

What stories could they tell?

Had any of them ventured as far as the sea or had they only bathed in waves of warm blood?

With eyes wide, you even dare to perch there to watch on, never bothering to conceal your underclothes with the faith that the darkness would hide away anything more than a illusory view of your shape.

Through the faint glow of the yellow-red flickering flames, your gaze drifts to something large, hulking and brutish, darker still against the backdrop of a sable horizon.

The shadow walks in line with the others, their proud and raucous foreign voices feathering through the otherwise quieted air… only he does not speak, does not make a single utterance of mirth or glee. He stares only forward as his feet tread on just paces behind the rest of the group.

Nine, then.

Like the tales you’ve heard of the Goths, you’ve also listened in on the children spinning wild stories of monsters, the legends of heroes of old slaying cruel beasts told by their elders. You had always believed them, even without the evidence currently striding through the sleeping streets, dark like a crypt, like the underworld itself. A true titan.

Just as your eyes track the brooding, silent form, he abruptly turns his head in your direction.

The glow of a nearby torch paints the shrouded face in the color of a dying sun, casts a glint on the thick seax strapped to his hip.

In that moment, it isn’t wonderment curling through your blood, but surprise, maybe even a tinge of fear.

Your heart hammers as you pull yourself from the window to whisper hurried, hushed prayers to Juno, protectress of women, as you reject your curious nature and climb back into your bed. You’ll bring your offerings to her altar just as any devout: incense and a sweet pastry so long as she keeps you safe, chaste.

Buried beneath cushions stuffed with straw and thin fabric sheets to tuck yourself away, you wish only to return to dreaming of the river’s silt beneath your feet and colorful birds parading past in the open air that smells only of violets and honey.

Instead, you dream of fire.

You dream of the city bathed in gold, molten and angry as the walls come down around you.

You watch as your neighbors, friends, all begin to writhe and shriek as their skin begins to blister, boil beneath until it melts layer by precious layer to puddle like oil where feet once stood until the mighty, wraithful scorch takes even that away too. What once was human becomes smoke: women, men, children, it made no difference. It all becomes a mighty roaring flame as the structures wail and crumble around you.

Yet, you remain untouched.

Dawn breaks with the puppets sewn in shadow all but entirely forgotten, washed away in the fearsome tides of your own dreaming.

You startle and bolt upright as you wipe cold sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

You’re no oracle: it’s just a dream… Vulcan would never turn his fiery gaze to your people after you’ve all honored him so, the offerings paid at his altar had been plentiful this past year with the steady expansion of the empire and the need for well-smithed weapons.

There were no volcanoes here to sweep away your life with magma and sulfur… only the lemures that haunted old shacks with their wailing had paid a visit to you last night. You let them in with your fears, and you would ward them away next with your courage.

The sun’s warmth creeps its way in, sweeps up from your blanketed legs until it curls and caresses at your cheek. From its positioning, proud and impossibly high in the sky it’s almost as though Sol himself were staring down at you, radiant yet scolding.

You’ve overslept.

Hurriedly, you ready yourself for the day, cinching your waist, clasping the shoulder of the stola, and dutifully washing your face with still water held in a clay pot. There was little else to do than bide your time with tedium: the animals loitering about needed tending to, a neglected sewing project lay strewn across the floor that had long-awaited its completion, and as the questions began to stir in your mind again… perhaps, gods willing, you would safely be gifted the opportunity to peek at the barbarian camp. To see that peculiar titan that they kept tethered at their sides.

It was dangerous and unheard of for a maiden, of course, but with little else to do than work and practice stitching threads for a betrothed you held no true affection for, this was a significant reprieve from the humdrum of what was scrawled out into the stars.

You weren’t given the luxury of further studies and communing with the aristocrats at their hearty banquets, sipping wine and prattling onwards about politics and how to further Rome as a whole. A part of you preferred this simple life of taking to the street, to peruse the market with what little money you held clutched in your palm, to pet the horses and watch as bulls sparred out in the fields beyond. Returning home to an empty house was a comfort, too.

As always, the market is a lively place, full to bursting with people exchanging anything under the sun, either beneath painted wooden stalls or from the first floor of their very homes, all with very little regard for you.

The city was simply too full to take in every name and face, and only their chatter seemed to intrigue you anyhow. You didn’t need a scroll or a song about each individual, your people were easy enough to read: war, pride, and duty all embedded into their very blood. The only ones that drew your attention were the poets and bards, entertainers who spun their stories of lives vastly different from your own… but there were none awaiting coin on the streets today.

A man passes with his wife at his side, loudly bolstering onward about his progress on some expedition.

Women with flowers woven into the braids of their hair laugh softly behind their palms as they exchange their secrets in singsong whispers.

The children play and pocket with eager palms when salesmen are unaware, likely to be caught later on and have their hands whipped raw.

There’s no talk of the Goths.

With these foreign men, most of your people seemed unbothered, taking solace in the knowledge that the empire’s cavalry would ride to strike down any opposition. A tentative, arrogant sort of comfort that you knew very well not to trust entirely. Most were simply not as educated on the potential of what could be, hadn’t snuck around on quiet feet to listen in on the men discussing failed treaties and negotiations.

The Goths could find their own food, their own women and shelters after fighting for the empire for a time: likely what they were here to do… give up their lives in exchange for a sliver of a Roman dream. A band as small as the one you witnessed could never quite hope to topple an empire, anyhow.

That sense of safety brought forth disinterest and smug little grins with little else to say, whereas your mind only took to further conjuring curiosity.

The more you wander the more you question whether you saw them at all, or if they were mere specters, already slain and silenced on some field far off from here, long dead and forgotten by all but the sleep-addled mind of a maiden.

You’ve never felt so disheartened. Though the city remained constantly bustling and full of intrigue when you knew where to look, these days the ease of it all only seemed to further the boredom. If nothing were to come, it would be no surprise to find that Juno would serve her purpose, looking after all with her blessings. You almost regret calling for her safety last night.

If the barbarians were indeed real, had some plot to overthrow an empire with their small numbers, perhaps only a vulture would be pleased with your thoughts now: teetering on the cusp of anticipation and wonder. You would never think yourself treasonous, but to learn, to see more… Your appetite for something further than a life spent sewing and child-rearing after marrying a man that made your skin prickle with distaste in the coming winter was rational.

Maybe not to most, but to you.

The fruit stall pulls you from thought with its sappy, honey-sweet scent and brilliant colors littered in crates: reds, greens, even some soft and blue… You only then notice you’ve been standing entirely still here, lost in thought, as if expecting a bolt of lightning to split the world in two.

Two apricots were purchased, one for you and the other for the gray mare in the stable you had grown fond of. You give the merchant a smile and a few bronze coins and carry on your way, nibbling at one of the fruits on your walk.

There were usually servants tending to the horses just beyond the city's paved streets, but it seemed today they were busy with other affairs: Quinquatria would be upon the city soon, and there was much to prepare for such an important festival. The place was empty all apart from yourself and the horses, some off in the fields to gallop to their heart’s content, while others like your mare, secured by wooden gates and paddocks.

You feed her, cooing gently as she takes the pitted fruit from your hand and between her blunt teeth; then, allows you to lead her into the grass with your honeyed words and languid steps.

One day, you hoped to have the opportunity to ride her, perhaps far away to touch the waters of the ocean, to see the foreign trees in some great adventure that would leave you more fulfilled. Ideally, without being weighed down heavy with child.

Your hand strokes at her nose before she begins to tense, eyes wandering from your form to something just beyond, far off and nestled in tall, fluttering grass and small bushes. You track her gaze for a moment, finally turning to look over your shoulder.

The wind has the tops of the trees swaying along the hills, grass pushed down to kiss the earth with each flutter of air. It all smells and feels so gentle, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the soil and salt of the earth itself. Ceres would have found herself prideful at the sight; everything rich and lush with the spring… Harvests would be bountiful this year, and everyone would be well-fed and contented. It’s no surprise that after pilfering through old calendars and running his tests upon the soil, Gaius had declared that this was the year he would take you to be his wife.

Past the expanse of soft blossoms and a cavalcade of greenery, all sweeping and rolling, a beauty that would stifle anyone should they think to look hard enough… but amidst all of this sits a man that you recognize immediately. Though he remains utterly faceless, his stature is somehow enough to make a gladiator blush and turn tail in shame.

There, just where the hill dips down and gives way to the soft rush of the stream, sits your warrior. His head is lowered as he crouches by the water, hands tucked to his front as he busies himself with something in his lap. The bare expanse of his back presented to you is unfathomable even from such a distance.

The men from Germania were said to be huge, dwarfing those that you were accustomed to by lengths, tall and thick like the weapons that they carry. They were said to be handsome, too… and like some hazy dream you were already certain that he was, somehow, beneath the pelt tied round his waist to keep him warmed at night, the sable shroud hanging over his head as he works away at sharpening the blade laying over his lap.

Your legs feel weak like a freshly birthed lamb’s as you watch him; the muscles of his bare arms bulging and quivering, his nude back tensing with effort. The soft rays of the sun beaming down only seem to paint him golden, untouchable except by higherborn women and men who could pay well to have him dirty his blade or his cock. Radiant, cruel, maybe even a bastard son of Mars himself, because what better a place for a man so vast and laden with scar tissue to be than in the midst of some great war.

Someone like this, you know with a certainty, would have no time for fickle maidens with their heads filled with the fluff of fantasies, and in a way that only seems to solidify a plume of possessiveness stirred up within your head.

You wonder even, if he calls to Vulcan as he pauses to hold his blade up to the sun to marvel at his work, the sharpened silver glinting in the light. The weapon casts its rays to only further illuminate the paleness of his flesh, coupled with the gleam of the flowing water ebbing past it only serves to make him look the very picture of those old stories and myths. The older women in the city would have tapestries embroidered of this scene, no doubt, if they could see through your eyes now.

Your horse trots off, satisfied that there is no true threat here, and you feel yourself begin to creep forward.

The gods and goddesses must play their tricks, because you are no fool. The pull only feels undeniable, something that you could not fight with a stern will alone. You pacify your impromptu decision with the thought that you could turn away at any point in the meters it would take to reach him. Surely, if he turned to face you before then that same fear from the night before would come to surface and you would sprint, startled and wary.

Perhaps he would even give chase…

There’s no excitement to be held on him, either acutely unaware or ignoring your presence entirely as you draw ever-closer. The grass softens your footsteps, the breeze blanketing any sound from each shift of your legs beneath the linen stola. You’re near silent in your approach, only halting where the hill crests over the bank several paces away from where he remains seated.

Only then does he turn to look your way.

There’s no greeting, no display of friendliness. His body language remains closed off, distant, like that of a wolf in cautious preparation; deciding whether or not it would be necessary to bare his teeth, to snap and growl until your flesh rends beneath him.

So it’s left up to you and to Juno who remains harbored in your heart. The goddess would protect you most assuredly, you’ve left her offerings for as long as you could remember, prayed at her altars and devoted yourself entirely— perhaps not in the same way of the temple maidens, but certainly more so than most.

You take a breath, watching him with kind eyes and an air of unease about you that only seems sweet by comparison to the very danger that his presence proposes. He only returns your stare with something colder, detached and unamused beneath that ugly veil he wears: two holes for the eyes, dyed beneath with the red rimming yellow like the tissue a butcher may find in a plump calf.

“Can you understand me?”

There’s a long, tense silence that follows your frail question. The titan stares, looks you over from the crown of your head, briefly pauses midway- at your hips- then further. It’s both heated and cold, coaxing yet analytical.

Finally, the barbarian gives a curt nod in response, seeming no less frigid and closed off even as your voice feathers over the breeze. But he understands, can decipher your language, that’s a start.

“You are… one of the barbarians, yes?” Is that even what they preferred to be called? The word certainly sounded prettier on your tongue than the brutish pronunciation of ‘Goths’. There would certainly be some price to be paid if your blood was spilled over a mere insult…

Graciously, he only seems to overlook it as he sheaths his blade and rises to his full height, tall like the mountains you had only heard stories of, where gods and goddesses sit in council not meant for mortal ears.

Freed of any covering upon his upper body, you find yourself reluctantly mesmerized by the trail of light hair that runs from chest to abdomen and down further… until a little tuft peeks from the hem of the pelt tied around his narrow hips. The layer of fat over his midsection paves a way upward to reveal the muscles of his chest, wider and more prominent somehow than most breasts you’ve seen.

Unruly thoughts clutter that would have others questioning your status and devotion to your Gaius if they could hear them. It couldn’t be helped, you reason; you had never seen a man quite so vast, so meant for battle and breeding.

“That is what your people call me,” he huffs, bull preparing to charge. His words come out with a thick accent, northern. The trees and mountains would sound similar if they could speak at all.

He drinks you in with his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to touch your most sensitive parts. Though he doesn’t move yet, you get the sense that all it would take is one false move, a skitter in your step that leaves you tumbling to the earth, and he would be upon you like the downpours of spring. You even wonder if he would roar like the thunder delivered from Jupiter’s weighty palms if he were to mount you.

Of course, what he sees before him is not a maiden of Rome. His people didn’t care for purity, for your religions and ideals: you’re a fertile little doe, wandering straight to a buck in his prime.

You swallow hard, a little bob from your fragile throat, to force those treasonous thoughts from your mind. Even talking to this man was a risk to your reputation… Your poor betrothed, nearing thrice your age and horribly delicate by comparison to this beast, would be up in arms if he were to find you here. More concerning, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“What do you call yourself, then?” Your voice comes almost breathless, thighs pressed together beneath your stola as your own body sends its signs and omens to tell you that you’re precariously close to the underworld just by gracing him with your presence. Perhaps it would be that dark, too, if this giant decided to push you to the soil, hover over you as he plucked you apart like petals from a flower.

His eyes track that subtle shift of your legs, crinkling at the outer corners when they roam back upward to your face. The beast grins beneath his hood, you’re certain of it, and those eyes of pale blue seem to glitter like the sun's rays on the stream to your side. He shifts, crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his hips just slightly forward, some strange display undoubtedly meant to tempt and charm you.

You don’t budge from your perch, despite your body’s persistent singing for him. Enticing scents and views of flesh could do that… this man wasn’t special, you were just curious. That’s all that it was.

“König.” He answers things plainly in that lilted voice, as though he’s trying to seem more of a man to spite that boyish way of speaking. And gods help you- it’s cute.

“Does it have meaning?,” you settle to ask when he does not request your name in turn. A bit rude, though you do wonder if perhaps the bullish men in his settlements see delicate things like you more like pets anyhow. The thought of this warrior whisking you away and naming you one day… You swallow that lump in your throat again, teetering back on your heels as if to place more distance between you two.

“What do you think it means?”

That simple non-answer does finally allow your pulse to settle, only to rise immediately to find it insulting— as if this wild man with no proper education had the right to insult you at all.

He only smiles again beneath that veil when your face sours. Awful, wretched, gorgeous creature… You’re no threat to him and he knows it. He’s only playing with you, dodging your pretension with a bit of his own, and unfortunately… This is the most pleasant conversation that you’ve had with any man.

Your betrothed was only arrogant and dull, there’s no light in his eyes when he smiles at you- everything is duty. Not here. Not with König, and surely the goddess of marriage and love is frowning down at you from her lofty throne, because you’re almost certain you’re infatuated with the brute by now.

“You’re a bit rude.”

“King.” He grins, a grin that you can see when he frees the leather flask from his belt and shoves his mask upward to take a heavy gulp of what is undoubtedly Roman wine. The glimpse alone makes you weak again, honey drips from your thoughts to your cunt, and you know now that you were never simply curious.

No, this brute would be the end of your engagement and even you if you allowed it.

You watch him take his fill, catch the bitter scent in the air as a bit trickles down from his rough jaw to his throat, all covered in scars. He’s been in battle for a long time, likely why he wears the hood at all. The rest of that handsome face is undoubtedly a wreck just as what could be seen of his body, all covered in memories of where he’s had scrapes and dances with daggers only to fell his foes one by one with that long seax dangling from his hip.

After the hood and the flask are in their proper places once more, he gives you a nod, then speaks, “How many coins?”

It takes a moment for the question to register in full; he isn’t asking what you have on your person, but how much you’re worth. How much it would cost for you to spend a night in his bed, tolerating this giant between your legs…

Your attractions billow up in smoke immediately, just as you expression sours and your hands curl to fists at your side, crushing the half-eaten apricot in the process. You toss the ruined fruit to the ground, allowing the sweet juice to coat your fingers as it flows downward.

You wring your hand as you very nearly shout, “You are an animal. I’m not here to sell myself.”

Your voice falters to a meek, little whisper with your final words, the breath a weak gust through the first tiny blossoms of spring.

Of course he catches onto your body language, to the way your thighs rub and tense beneath your skirt, the way your nipples peak at the mere sight of him and all of the infatuation and curiosity in your eyes. Men knew things like this, offhandedly, it seemed; if the others were correct then this beast could surely smell you, too.

The bastard only stares, eyes narrowing as his brow pulls together beneath the hood in some strange confusion. The whores wore their togas, not the stolas of maidens and married women, even a barbarian should have known that: his men were certainly no strangers to the sweet women with their faces chalked in lead.

Then, his shoulders pull up to fall in a shrug.

“Run, then, little one.”

It’s almost as though he knows your thoughts in and out, a lemure himself as he presents the bulk of him that would strike fear into any man, taunts and goads. You don’t want another fire dream. You force your courage and mirror his stance: chin up, back straightened as you look down upon him like a goddess sent to deliver her fury with… a pitted apricot at your feet rather than bolts of famine and misfortunes.

His eyes become stars, twinkling in earnest when he sees you then. You’re no aristocrat, no empress, but you certainly feel the part when the giant’s gaze finally relaxes its pilferage and settles upon your face instead.

Your act is all for naught, because you realize that his men are approaching, opposite the stream. One of them was enough, but a hoard of others… You were not even certain that he could understand you properly, and the others could be even less patient. Your gaze travels over their forms, smaller than this ‘König’, but each equipped with their own weapons and their own scars from battle.

They look from their leader to you, eyes grazing over the plush flesh that your stola dutifully conceals like starved dogs. One of them mutters something in a foreign tongue, harsh and guttural, his eyes never leaving your shape in a display of brazen appraisal.

König responds in turn, voice taking on a lower octave as he all but barks his response: harsh, unyielding language that you couldn’t hope to interpret… but if you had to guess, you were nearly certain that his men were asking who would lift your skirts and have their way with you first.

You depart from them with tentative yet hurried feet, and you don’t look back as you cross across the lush field. There’s no stopping at the stable, not a thought in your head except that you would most assuredly not be returning. The barbarians could have the field, the stream, whatever the city’s officials had allowed them.

Just not you.

It’s Gaius that greets you when you arrive home, to the little villa he had secured for you; to the place that would become less of a home and more of a prison once the two of you were wed. You’re barely a foot in the door when the man’s gaunt face turns to you, his lips set in a stern line.

“Where were you?”

You knew that look, it’s the very same that he gives to his slaves when he’s about to bleat out his orders like an enraged goat, shove them or grab at them to feel less small than he truly is.

Your brow pinches, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as you try in earnest to look the part of an innocent lady who had not just crossed a field and fantasized endlessly of some rude, barbaric oaf.

“In the field. With the horses,” you deliver your half-truth with practiced ease. This wasn’t the first time you’ve lied to him, and it certainly would not be the last. If the protectress of Rome could overlook your stunts and recognize your discomfort in this wretch’s presence… then she might even side with you; save you from a future of sharing this man’s bed.

Gaius relents then— as much as a stoic, old man could. He reaches out to cup your face with one weathered hand and you have to force back to urge to shudder.

It’s not that you mean to be cold, not after all that he’s done to care for you… it just comes as naturally as the seasons and the wills of the gods. Something about him always made you feel ill.

You eventually, tentatively jut your chin forward just a bit to force yourself into leaning toward the touch of his cold hand.

His lips curl into an unsightly grin; then, he pats your cheek and draws away enough to bless you with fresher air to breathe without his withering presence alone contaminating it.

“I brought you a gift, meum corculum.”

“Oh…” Your words come in a little hiss, your heart stuttering in your chest as you teeter back on the heels of your sandals. The straps along your calves feel tighter now, your stola too… maybe even the room itself: everything seems to close in, and you could only silently hope he doesn’t request your affections for doing such. “… you didn’t have to-“

“Nonsense.” Gaius raises both of his hands, arcs them before stepping out of your path to reveal a new dress lying on the wooden table just beyond him, dyed a light blue.

It’s pretty, well-spun and soft-looking… yet you still hesitate a bit when you step closer to run your fingertips over the fabric. It yields beneath your touch, bunches when you move each digit along the pliant linen, and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched, maybe even softer than the lambs and kittens you’ve played with in the streets.

“I thought that you might like something nicer to wear during Quinquatria,” he adds from just behind you. You feel his hands trace along your arms, further, until they reach your shoulders and give a gentle, but almost demanding squeeze.

It’s meant to be affectionate and he is your husband-to-be… but he still manages to make you feel ill. It’s only a blessing that he’s never requested more from you than a peck for his offerings to you.

What a man in his late stage of life could see in you, you couldn’t hope to imagine. A fertile womb, likely, and you could only hope that that isn’t also what he saw in the women he kept as slaves in his own home further toward the city’s center. Nosy, dull man that he was, of course he needed to be closer to the housings of banquets and discussions to feel some level of importance while he kept you locked away toward the wall and the slums like some filthy little mystery.

“I’m tired, my love,” you manage, voice thin as you slowly pull yourself away, from both Gaius and the delicate blue thing you would be forced into wearing for the coming festival.

The man balks, but doesn’t push. A few seasons and he would have what he’s awaited for years, the confident gleam in his eyes tells you that he’s certain of it.

It’s difficult to believe that someone you had once considered a hero and a friend could make you feel so much disgust now. You were naïve, then, and now you only feel how those poor horses locked away in the stables must feel, burdened with a constant yearning for your own freedom.

“Then rest.”

When the door shuts behind him, you’re only then able to expel your relief. The weight of what you must do settles upon you, heavy and unyielding, the boulder of Terminus.

You can not marry Gaius. You can not continue to breathe in the stink of the city from its miasmic aqueducts, perfumed only by the crowded marketplace full of mortals so contented with their own tedium. The unknown calls and calls, howling like a mother wolf to guide you. Even with the stories told of what fiends and horrors lie outside of the city you could almost feel with a certainty that you were destined for it.

You light your incense with a lump of coal in the burner of a clay pot. Just cinnamon would have to do for now. You make your peace with that promising Juno whichever sweet, flaking pastry that appeals most during the festival of Minerva.

Though you were more than content with your wish for nothing more to do with the barbarians after meeting with König earlier… he comes rushing back into your mind, rolling and lapping like waves as you begin to prepare yourself for sleep. The polished tin of your hand mirror reflects your face as you twirl the handle in a curled palm and you stare. Did he see beauty or simply a womb…? Had you taken offense to nothing? The questions stir up remorse as you strip away your gown and take to the bed.

Just one more meeting with the foreigner, maybe. Just to say your farewells, wish him luck in future battles, bless his seax and his shield with a touch and a prayer (if he even had the sight to keep any form of defense on his person).

When Quinquatria comes, when the people are busy and satisfied with their food, fortune telling and the gladiator games, you will take your mare and ride off into a sea of stars. Each light will be a point of guidance until you reach the riverbed you’ve only ever dreamt of, until you scale the mountains that sang so sweetly from the goth’s tongue…

And perhaps he will chase you.

— — —

Quinquatria used to be one of your favorite festivals. The fortune tellers were your favorites, always seeming to know so very much with so little insight into your life. Then there were the revelers donning their colorful masks, barking out song with bitter wine painting their tongues.

You try to listen in on them as a woman traces over the patterns in your palm, the curved lines and straight, fine indentations. Palmistry, rather than any proper reading with sacrifices and proper seers stood before a temple. You reason that this is for fun, just like the wine-drinking and the gladiators fighting for their lives and the horrible stink of the city’s streets: natural, reasonable, and dreadfully normal.

The fortune teller hums as she reads you through your hand, laughs a bit when she seems to note a secret or… something. You were not entirely sure. The woman was young, her belly likely as full of fermented fruit as everyone else’s as they dance and crowd the street where you two are stood.

“You’re unhappy, girl,” the woman muses, giving you a sympathetic look before another laugh pulls from her lips.

You give her a nod but don’t say a word as she continues to stroke at your palm. Of course you were, anyone could tell just by the frail look upon your face, as if you were indeed bereft and ready to cry at any moment in this horrible, dainty dress with your betrothed fondling some lady mere paces from you.

“Yet, so lovely,” she continues, nimbly running her fingers to your wrist. She curls them around you, turns your hand over and gives it a soft pat to signify that your reading is done.

“You’re destined for a summer wedding.” Winter, you want to correct. “And your husband… strong and brave like the sacred wolf.” Weak and old, you force back with a clenched jaw.

She releases your wrist with one last assessment, “Juno favors you, sweet girl.”

You want to call her a fraud, but instead you merely part with the bronze you had promised to her. With Gaius preoccupied, his wrinkled hands already tucked beneath the skirt of the other woman’s stola, now would be the best time to wrench the door of your little cage wide open… not make a scene.

Your chest feels tight, and for the first time it isn’t from some unknown fear, it’s excitement. Your heart hammers as the blood stirs within your veins, belly tense and breathing shallow, taking a stiff pace to walk along the shadow untouched by silver paths of moonlight.

There’s a bellow, a wail as the gladiators fight some distance off. Soft words and whispers filtering past like eerie words from something ghastly, moans from a brothel, bells on the wind, the stink of rot and perfume all from all that you’ve known for so long as you leave it all behind.

Your mare is pacing restlessly in the field, her ears flicking and tail swaying behind her. You’ve no saddle, you hadn’t even thought to procure food or any supplies. You’re not even certain that she’s been ridden by anyone, but you coax her over to the wooden fence that your body rests over; hands find the velvety fur of her gray snout, fingers moving to gently caress her mane and ears.

“We are going to be free,” you whisper as your hands curl over her neck. The mare makes her displeasure known immediately, huffing and tensing immediately… and you realize that this isn’t going to work, not without her bucking you off and leaving you injured or dead. You’re not stupid or brazen enough to break a horse or anything, really. Not Gaius. Not…

You would find König. Perhaps you could even trade the Goth for a horse already accustomed to being ridden… he had already revealed his intentions, and he was easy enough on the eyes to entertain the thought.

You give the mare a kiss farewell, right on the softness of her cheek and detach yourself from the fence to wander past the silver field, the gently flowing stream. The water dampens your dress, embeds it’s cold into your very bone where the sandals fail to protect. Spring or not, it’s hardly warm at night, and there are only so many rocks lying in the water to keep you from sinking in.

The clothes are drenched by the time you crawl to the other side. On the opposite bank, it’s only then that you turn back to look over at the city, one final glimpse of a place bathed in gold; cinder and ash from torchlight, flowers and the creeping scent of decay carry on the breeze. Even from the distance you can hear the music, chimes of steel on steel, the laughter and cries of mirth and pleasure.

Begrudgingly, you feel the first seeds of regret plucking at your heartstrings. You’ve nothing to your name apart from a few coins in a pouch strapped to your hip, no weapons, no food. You could die, you verily would if you went at this alone. And still, you force your face forward and continue your steady waltz to look the unknown straight in its bloody maw.

You won’t panic, won’t fear. Whatever awaits would be better— it had to be.

The barbarian camp comes into view some time later. You couldn’t be certain how long you’ve been walking, as though some spirit had plucked the chords of your mind and left you in some confused daze. It couldn’t have been your own desperation. Something greater had to be at play, a proper destiny: one much better than the life of Gaius’s wife, owned like a hound, imprisoned and uninspired.

Though their torches burn, their tents stitched together amalgamations of old pelts and cloth, the air is fresher here. You expected the reek of death, heavy on their skin, bathed in blood and the rot like visions of Mors herself. Instead, you smell smoked meat and wine on the air: a boar and fermented grape, fruit from the surrounding orchards, the heavy scent of men. There’s no celebration here, a few men talking quietly as their eyes wander over what you can only assume to be some sort of map— tactical discussion for their next bloodbath.

You puff your chest and steel your gaze as you walk towards them, expression set not unlike the stern looks your betrothed would give.

Your attempt at intimidation only earns a flicker of hunger in the gazes of these men, and then a bout of grating laughter. They glance at one another, discussing you in hushed voices in their mother tongue before one finally looks to you and asks a simple, “Was?”

“König,” you answer simply. “Where might I find him?”

The question undoubtedly goes uninterpreted, but the name does spark a wave of interest that passes between their faces. Finally, one points toward the tent at the far side of the camp: ugly thing, vast and layered in dark tones of gray and maroon, the very structure is a bleeding animal.

You hear the laughter behind you, the lewd whispers and jeers and only a simpleton wouldn’t be able to interpret the meaning; the titan that heads their little group has a lovely woman seeking him out like a wayward dream, and with adrenaline already coursing through you the thought of spending your night here doesn’t even seem an insulting prospect.

The flap serving as the door of the tent parts as your hands move to lift it, and sure enough… the beast lies in wait in his den, seated on a mattress made up entirely of fur. His hood remains over his head as he traces the carvings on the handle of the seax, under flickering flame and the shadow of the tent König seems further unearthly, god walking amongst men as he toys with his weapon in some strange sort of ritual.

The ritual only seems to be one of boredom, because his eyes light up when they rest over you, standing like a dream as your dress billows with the breeze creeping in. You’re drenched and dirty and pitiful in his presence, but he only seems to soften when he beckons you toward him with a curl of his fingers meeting his palm.

You obey with tentative steps, stopping next to him as he waits on the bed. If it were possible for your heart to seize and halt entirely without you collapsing to sink beneath the earth, it surely would now, so close to him.

“I need a favor,” you explain in whispers. “A horse.”

“A horse,” he repeats as his weapon is set aside, “Warum?”

You don’t want to explain a thing. He’s working with the very men that could drag you back to the city after being paid heavily by Gaius… your trust is blind and foolish and you almost want to break apart right here. How stupid to believe that you could find some solace here, with a giant that walks along the cusp between men and beasts. Your shaking hands reach out to drag along his vast shoulders, lingering on the healed wounds that dent and give rise to his flesh.

“I’ll do what you want,” you offer quietly, earning a pleased rumble from his chest.

Though after a moment, he only sieges your wrists, pulls you down to the mattress at his side. He touches you no further, only stares down at you in a twist of amusement, reverence and confusion.

“Warum?,” he repeats, “Tell me.”

You wind over onto your side, staring up at him with a desperation that you’ve never known until this night, clawing down from your throat to bed it’s way into your roaring pulse, frightened and pleading. Just give in, ask no more, you want to wail to him as your vision begins to blur with tears.

Mercifully, he doesn’t ask again. König lies at your side, mimicking the way you curl onto your side and again… he smiles, though this one is unlike the way he looked upon you by the stream. It lacks that boyish twinkle, the intensity of the lines forming beneath his eyes: it’s more of a pleasantry than anything genuine.

“You are married?”

“What? No…” You swallow hard, toying with a thread that’s begun to pull free from your hip, twirling it between your fingers. “…not yet.”

“Ach… but you belong to another, ja?”

You want to howl out your frustrations up to every god and goddess above, burn through the Elysian with your misery alone. You wish, yearn for the courage to cast off that mask and lure him in with a kiss, erase any memory of Gaius with the kindling of a truer passion.

Your voice doesn’t come, and your fingers steadily pluck at that thread, feeling more unsure of yourself with each passing second.

Again, your bastard god grants his mercy as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, the warmth of him singing away the memory of the weathered hand that had touched you there before. His hand is so much larger, strong and riddled with calluses; you swear that you can feel his own fluttering pulse through his fingertips when they press against your bottom lip.

“Not after tonight,” he hums.

When the shroud is tugged up and his mouth meets your own, König’s kiss is exactly what you had expected: a sloppy, eager clash of teeth and tongue. He steadies you with a hand pressed to the back of your neck as his grunts filter past your own lips. Your eyelids flutter, then close as you allow your mind to finally relax, coaxed into the ethereal with each swipe of his tongue and pleasured sound drawn up from the well of his throat.

He pulls away with a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth, gazing down at you as though he’s been deprived of light for the entirety of his being and had only now met the sacred flame. It’s incomparable to how easily your betrothed would cast his scrutiny; though the hunger is similar, there’s something far more enticing here.

“Do you trust me?”

König’s voice holds no apprehension as he speaks; the question is just as blunt as each bulge of muscle and peek of teeth through the grin on his face, only set aglow by dim candlelight in the tent. You don’t nod, don’t even reply immediately as you stare at him a little dumbly, still intoxicated by the ferocity of his affections.

“… I don’t know.”

He moves a hand over your eyes then, gently presses his palm over you until you’re bathed in such darkness that you shudder. It’s a disconcerting feeling— not because you fear him so much anymore, but because if this were Gaius you would have already been squirming away, rushing to hide. You want to kiss his palm, revel in whatever piece of him he gives to you.

“Sehr schön,” König coos to you in a whisper. You settle further, allowing the tension to leave you almost entirely as you fall into the velvety embrace of all of this darkness and the pelts beneath your back.

He shifts at your side, and almost immediately there’s a cold chill at your collar, something sharp that he rakes over the softness of your flesh, then down, down to snag at the top of your dress. Your gasp is quieted by a kiss as you feel his weight shift over you, and just as you begin to melt into it… the fabric begins to tear, shreds as he guides his blade further, past your breasts and along your sternum, your belly, further.

“Don’t..,” you manage to hiss against his mouth, immediately taken over by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your teeth. Your nipples peak at the sudden chill as your dress lies ruined to either side of your body, thighs trembling as the blade hooks along the linen concealing your maidenhood.

One more generous, gentle cut and that comes away too.

You’re entirely bare when he retreats to your side again, one hand still clutching the blade as he moves his head to lay over your breast and… never, never had you heard of a man lapping and suckling at a woman like a pup, but that’s what he begins to do; his tongue circles over the bud, tugging it between his teeth until you feel the wetness between your legs beginning to drip to smear upon the mattress.

It’s caught, quick, as he turns the blade in his hand to slot its grip against your sex. It’s cold, but his mouth is warm, attentive as he licks between the valley of your breasts to capture your other nipple.

The noises that leave your mouth are filthy, rivaled only by the sounds you’ve heard in brothels… König only seems appreciative of them, muttering praises as he grinds the cold metal against your cunt, careful as the ridges of it graze your throbbing bud, gathering your slick to make the glide that much easier.

When he moves to dive for your breasts again, you cradle his jaw in your hands, peering up at those moonlight eyes in silent pleading as you capture him in another burning kiss.

The blade turns again, its sharpness directed down so as to not bring you any harm as you desperately roll your hips against its coldness. He groans into your mouth, panting softly just as you begin to whine.

You’ve never heard of a man making love to a woman with a weapon… or of one suckling at her as though she’s lactating when she is not, but… it has the desired result when your body tenses and all that can escape you is a frail whisper of his name.

The heat sweeps from your foggy head to your middle as your thighs squeeze around the damned thing and König presses his lips to your temple. You climax for him, chasing wave upon crashing wave of intensity with stilted bucks of your hips. He clicks his tongue in approval when you’ve finished, holds up the seax again, smeared wet with your essence and twinkling as though it had been bathed in the stream once more.

You know with a certainty you’ve lost Juno’s favor. If he chose you to carve you open with his come-stained blade the goddess would not make her descent to save you.

“Gut,” he whispers into your hair. To your horror, maybe even fascination, he raises the dirtied silver to his lips and licks your sweetness from it with another low groan.

“Wh… why would you do that..?” Your rapture feels almost shameful as you watch him lap at the weapon, the long tongue meeting silver only warmed by your heat.

He’s mad, certainly, and you only find yourself further infatuated: you reason that you must be too…

König doesn’t answer you as he sets the seax aside again, not in words. Instead, he cups your face and directs your lips to his own where he laps at your tongue, suckling it in the same way he did your tits. It’s slow and sensual, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, smell yourself on him as his hands find your waist and tug you closer until you’re lying almost entirely over him; one leg thrown over his thigh with your hands splayed over his chest.

The titan is hard beneath the pelt he wears, felt against the plushness of your thigh, the brown fur wrapped around his hips is pushed to rise where it’s harboring something akin to a pillar… but he doesn’t force you to settle over it, makes no attempt to tug it free, despite its throbbing against your leg,

“I needed your blessing,” he mutters, a hand settling over your naked hip, tracing small shapes with his thick fingers. The other finds your shoulder to pull you into a cuddle, pulled so tightly against him that you’re hardly able to discern where your warmth ends and his begins.

“A.. a blessing?” Your voice comes as a trembling croak, head pressed into the gap between a broad shoulder and the column of his throat.

“We are leaving in the morning.”

“Oh…”

“I will give you the horse when I return.”

Your head feels like a mess. You’re not even certain of what you’ve just done— did that count as sex? Would he tell the Roman soldiers he works alongside of how he had convinced some pompous aristocrat’s lovely bride to lustrate his blade with her essence? You could hit him, demand the horse now and bolt, but you only melt against him: eyelashes fluttering as exhaustion takes hold and the tension leaves you entirely.

“That’s all?”

König pets you, running a hand along your spine and back up to repeat. He presses his nose to the crown of your head, nuzzling against it until his hand is freed from your form and only then does it coax its way beneath the fur covering his groin.

He laughs at the weak sound of surprise you elicit when that beast is pulled free, another, thicker weapon curled in his hand. The thickness, the length of it that tapers off to a layer of skin, eager and pulled back from the tip, leaking beads of milky white: something that would surely tear you if he were not careful, and the thought brings you to squeeze your thighs together, concealing the leaking, thrumming thing between.

“I will fuck you when I return, too,” he huffs into your scalp, causing you to further bury your face against him, intent not to let him see the effect his derangement seems to have on you. You would let him bury himself into your chest, steal the breath from your very lungs, but you don’t breathe a word of it. Something tells you it’s a mutual thing, perhaps it was all spelled out for you when he asked for your favor rather than from any of his foreign gods.

You count your undeserved blessings. He seems sated only ruining you with his touch for the time being, you’re very comfortable here, and though you dare not speak it… you do find this brute charming. He speaks where you fail to, whispers of your beauty being like that from myths and dreams.

He doesn’t force you to leave, either, only paws at and squishes your breasts until you squeak and whine your protests, already sore from his teeth leaving their marks all over them. When he tires of his fun, you’re pulled into a crushing embrace where he rests his head against your own, blankets you in himself entirely. You were right… the shadow he casts over you blackens out the sun, moon, stars all of it; dulls the haze of carnality with something far more tender.

Your night becomes entirely made up of König: his scent like forest and sweat, the furs from beasts he’s chased down and slain, his soft breathing and gentle snores when he does fall asleep against you.

No dreams come to you, no lemures to haunt you with their wails and flames. Not even Juno descends to punish you. You’re warm and soft and contented like the kittens curled up in clusters along the streets on cold nights.

It’s the first night of peace you’ve had in some time.

When morning comes, the brightness of the sun peeking through the flaps of the tent, you wake to find König already out of bed. He stands at the far side of the tent, strapping on pelts and gear and the leather pouch filled with wine. His seax is held up in utter revelry, and mortifyingly enough… you immediately note that he hadn’t cleaned away the remnants of what occurred last night either.

When you bring yourself to sit upright, the giant only drops to his knees at your feet and curls his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to the valley between your breasts through the thick fabric of the hood.

And… it almost hurts, to realize then that this is something you’ve longed for. You’re not arrogant enough to believe yourself worthy of some foreign worship, but he seems to liken you of some devout little acolyte, as if your come and kisses could grant him favor while he butchers poor souls all in favor of your empire: the people he had likely been communing and trading with only months before. Traitorous, mad, utterly enthralling man… You’re not certain whether you want to relieve yourself from him or guide him back into bed for more frenzied pleasures.

“You will stay?,” he murmurs into your skin as his kisses trail up to your neck.

You hadn’t even considered what you would do, it never came to mind, but staying in a shoddy tent in wait for him to return with the horse he’s promised was far from favorable. You’re out from the city, still without food or weapons, your dress and underclothes are a torn ruin on the floor, nothing but the wind and the stream and König’s stinking furs… The bathhouse seems to call to you now more than ever. Your lower lip trembles when you think of returning to that stale place, to be questioned endlessly about your affairs from your ‘doting’ husband-to-be…

Your head shakes solemnly. “I’ll wait for you at home.”

König drags you up onto your feet and closer as he savors in another embrace. You’re cloaked in a gray pelt, tied up and over your shoulders like the gaudiest tunic in the world, but you bur your nose into its shoulder, humming in contentment when you find that it smells just like him.

He’s more confident and proud than you’ve ever seen him now. The filthy blade remains strapped to his hip when he gathers you up to sit at his front on the back of his horse— a dark stallion with a pelt the same shade as the night sky. It doesn’t even seem to flinch at your combined weight, just canters along smoothly as König directs it through the sprawling field and past the stream to lead you back towards the city’s gates.

You’re not thinking of Juno or Gaius or traditions when König cinches your waist with a thick arm to draw you in closer; there’s nothing but fluffy warmth pooling in your chest sent by Venus when you feel his hips shift to press himself against your back. His head dips to kiss at your neck, your burning cheeks, shoulder, anyplace that he can.

When the horse comes to a halt with a sharp tug of its makeshift reigns, some length of rope and twine, his hand is at your rear.

Everything’s incensed and floral when you’re lowered to the ground, when he lifts the hood to grin down at you, not only with his eyes this time. It’s a sheepish, gluttonous grin, drunk off your very presence.

“I will come back for you, meine Göttin.”

And you know now, that the palm reading had been true— there’s your wolf in preparation for a hunt, the man who’s unwittingly aiding you in your pursuit of freedom painted with mountains and vast, blue skies. You will convince him to come away too, lay down the blade you’ve blessed with your pleasure. A summer wedding… far from wars of greed and smirking old men.

Your head swims when he bids you farewell, rides off on his massive horse back to his camp to gather his own men to march. You watch him go, breath caught up in your throat, a burning longing in your chest that you can not entirely dismiss.

The walk of shame only comes when you’ve crossed the threshold separating König’s world from your own.

The stink of the streets immediately washes away any lingering scent of him on your skin, on his pelt you now hide away with your arms curled around your waist.

You catch your reflection in stagnant water held in a pot, swaying and ebbing gently as others breeze past you.

You’re in a foreigner’s clothes that just barely crest your thighs, hair a mess and the carmine you had worn to bring a false blush to your cheeks is smeared over an eye and down to your jaw. You look the part of an adulteress, maybe, even as you dip your hand into the water to wash the makeup from your face.

There isn’t much to be done about the marks left over the hints of your chest revealed beneath the fur, but you make your way home without anyone even bothering to ask. If anything, the festivities from the night prior only seemed to subdue the standard bustle. You could only imagine how exhausted the hungover soldiers may have been as they undoubtedly prepare for the expedition König had mentioned.

That overrides your shame, sobers you from that sugary elation somewhat. You’re worried. It’s not just about König himself, not about the threat of fucking you when he returns left unfulfilled— though, those are enough to make your heart begin it’s hammering, rabbit in the throes of a chase. The horse, too. That proud stallion, your hope of a swift escape before winter comes and it’s all lost. If his drunken allies fail him in battle, if some other barbarian’s spear strikes true and fells your titan then the dream is dispelled into smoke, sunken down to river bed to be lashed away by frothing waters.

Whoever decided that the day after revelry would be the time to move was a fool indeed. The deities couldn’t look at you after last night, you know if they saw their noses would be turned up in disgust… perhaps not Jupiter’s, he’s more guilty than you could ever be, but your offerings had never been for him had they?

You fret and hiss below your breath as you wind your way back to the villa with its white walls and terracotta-tiled roof. The sun bears down on you like the flame of your dreaming. You’re afraid again, letting the lemures find their way in through the gaps in your shivering limbs to haunt your dreams.

Gaius is not there to greet you, likely still recovering from his own fevered night. You’re grateful for that.

The little altar to Juno still stands atop a table in your room, the burner still smells of cinnamon, dried flower petals and a dish of honey still sat there entirely untouched. She hasn’t split it in two, abandoned you, but it does feel that way when you peel away the fur.

Your fingers nudge at the bruises laden into your skin, the marks that look like teeth to either side of your breast. You press into them, gently, immediately feel that coil of heat, and you don’t want to sleep. That fire from your dream only seems to have become a part of you: you know it intimately now, it comes with pleasure and bite marks and a heavy weight harbored in your chest.

You cinch your waist and tie your stola at your shoulder, brush your hair out with a comb made of ivory. You rub your bruises with a salve made of honey, bandage up what you can and hide away what you can’t by tugging up your breast band.

The same as any other day, you take to the streets of the city and peruse the marketplace, take to the empty bathhouse to wash away all that’s consumed you over the past day. And you watch the soldiers go as they march through the streets, women and children waving away their fathers and brothers with prayers and sentimental words.

They don themselves in red, clutching their gladiuses, spears and heavy shields as they filter out and away where your very being longs to be. Their faces are giddy, almost: the prospect of pillaging and felling each enemy another delightful treat just like those found in the gladiator pits and amidst rolling with the whores in their brothel beds. You can not hope to understand their mirth, the happiness in any of the civilians either.

You watch them leave wistfully, lips pressed to a thin line, fingers digging into the waist of the stola. You down your fair share of the wine Gaius has left in your cellar. The day merely passes you by, the sewing left undone on the floor, altar bathed in cinnamon and saffron as you make your prayers and beg like any dog.

The mattress feels lonely and sad without the warmth of a body made for war curled against you, without his breath in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. It’s cold, too, and far harder than his, all straw and thin sheets. None of this feels like home.

Your eyes eventually close as the last of the sun’s rays begin to die, blotted out by the dark, untouched by torchlight.

You dream of fire.

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[bluetimeombre]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e, p2

Deadpool and Wolverine but your Ladypool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is part two to basically what is just my dream. this goes from the last part to the end of the movie and yes there is the car smut scene in the middle. i am not a good smut writer but this is FLITHY, i had to take a step back. enjoy!]

part one

warnings/disclaimer: not proof-read, femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, smut, penetrative sex, oral (m!reciving), spanking, offensive language, cursing, daddy kink, being a whore for the man

The car ride must have gone on for an uncomfortable ten minutes before you broke it.

'So what's with the suit?'

'Drop it,' he warned.

'It's not that bad. It's sexy, in some parts.'

'Stop talking about it.'

'Did you make it yourself?' you asked. 'Did the X-men make you wear it, those fuckers. Friends don't let friends go out looking like they're a godsdamn Wolverine cosplayer.'

'Shut the fuck up about my suit.'

'Watch those frown lines angel baby, personally I'm into the old ragged, sexy, don't get too close to me you'll get hurt, but some miss the 2000's baby they knew.'

'Talk about something else!'

You rolled your eyes, whistling a tune to yourself. When that got boring, you started to mimic Spider-Man. God, what you would give to meet one of him in the void.

'Stop it,' he growled.

You shook your head and gave one last 'thwip'

Then maybe you let slip that it's not a guarantee for him to get his world fixed. And maybe Logan swerves in anger and puts the car in park,

Then maybe Logan gets angry and has a long rant at you about how nobody wants you or loves you and you have to pine over him because you never had a daddy that loved you (you couldn't tell if you were horny or hurt)

'I'm going to fight you now,' you told him.

He snorted. 'oh, are you?' but he wasn't laughing when you punched him square in the nose and a dribble of blood ran down his lips.

He dug his claws into your thigh and you screamed.

He grabbed your hair and slammed your head down on the radio, flicking through some Hugh Jackman hits before you settled on Casual by Chappel Roan.

Honestly, not what you were expecting.

He reached over and strapped you into your seat with the seatbelt and dug his claws deep into your stomach. He smirked in your face as your heavy eyes looked up to him. 'How'd you like that, Bub?'

You had the feeling this was going to take a very different turn. But not without you giving your own back.

He lunged in again for you but you retracted the seat and lifted a leg to his shoulder, kicking him away from you.

'I have to say, this isn't the way I imagined you in between my legs.' Still, you used the power of your thighs to slam him repeatedly into the door, until he stabbed you again.

You kicked him in the chest, sending him flying out the windshield.

You unbuckled the seat belt and smirked, ushering him back with your fingers.

Smut. Smut. Smut. Honda Odyssey smut. Smut. Smut. Smut. Honda.

When he lunged back in and dug his claws into your ribs, you hadn't expected him to kiss you, forcing his lips to mold into yours. His teeth bit down on your lip, opening up your mouth a moan and diving his tongue in.

He took out his knives and you pulled your head back to yell out in pain, even though they were already healing. And even if the yell of pain was more like a moan. 'Oh, you like that bub?'

You roll your head to look at him. 'Is that a claw in your pants or are you just happy to see me?'

He growls. Fucking growls and wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing until you open your mouth wide enough for him to shove his tongue in again. Your legs wrap around his waist, forcing his hips down to yours until you could feel the outline of his cock against your pussy.

When he pulls away, dragging you bottom lip with him, he spits into your mouth. 'All those filthy things you'd been spitting at me, think you can take it, bub?'

'Ha, let's see if you've got it in you, old man.' With the power of your thighs wrapped around him, you spun until you had him pinned under you.

For good measure, you punched him in the face again, blood coming to stain his perfect lips. Logan only grinned. He grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled until the expanse of your neck was vulnerable to him. He bit down on your neck like a vampire in need for blood. He drew blood and there was nothing more sinful to you than when he pulled back and revealed a slither of your blood from the corner of his lips.

You licked at his lips, taking your blood.

His hands found your breasts under the suit and squeezed, groaning to himself at the feel of them. 'Why have a mouth, when you have these?'

'I'm sure my mouth can come in handy too, handsome.'

He chuckled and lifted your hips enough and then forced you back down on him until you were grinding down on his cock through your suits. His teeth grazed your nipples through the leather, tongue working against it. It was like another layer of skin.

You gripped his hair, moaning as you rocked your hips into him. Slowly, he took the zipper between your breasts and pulled it down until it revealed you in a lacy red bra.

'Of fucking course,' he groaned, lips wrapping around a nipple, teeth pulling on it as his palm reached out to give attention to your other one. All the while your panties (which you couldn't wait for him to see the colour of) grew damper the more you moved against him. Even you could see pre-cum staining his suit.

'Fuck, Wolvie,' you groaned.

'I know, bub. You just needed some attention, ay. Just needed big old me.'

You looked down at him, his saliva running down your breasts. 'Well, is it true? Are you Hugh down under?'

He smirked and pushed you off him just enough so he could un-zip his pants and free his cock. It slapped against the leather of his suit, the tip red and swollen, begging for your attention. 'What do you think?'

'Mama like,' you mumble, falling to your knees in the passenger seat. Yes, the passenger seat.

He wrapped your hair around his hand and pulled until you loomed over his cock. 'Gonna do something useful with that mouth, baby?'

'What? Like recite the opening of deadpool two?'

With enough chatter, Logan forced you down on his cock. He didn't wait for you to adjust and he seemed to not need to as you took control quickly.

He groaned when you swirled your tongue over his tips and then licked up and down like it was a popsicle. When you took him all the way until you were choking around him and hollowing your lips. He was bucking his hips up to you, chuckling and moaning at you.

'Oh, yes, bub, just like that- just like that,' he pulled at your hair as you took all of him in, hands messaging his balls. 'Bet you want me to tell you you've been a good girl, eh? Oh, you'd love that baby, but you haven't. You've- fuck just like that- you're a fucking lair, aren't you. Wanted me so bad you had to use that filthy mouth of yours to lie?'

You moan around him and bobbed the tip in your mouth, using your hands for what you couldn't take.

Logan's head rested back on the car seat as he bucked up into you and into you.

Your thighs squeezed together, your hand itching to help yourself out.

'You touch yourself bub and I'll have to spank you,' he threatened.

You immediately spread your legs and slide your fingers down the band of your panties.

Logan pulled you from his dick and all but forced you back up. The two of you fumbled with the zip of your pants, hitting your head in the process.

He caught sight of your panties once he'd pulled your leather pants down enough. Yellow. 'Oh you're fucking kidding me.'

You laugh. 'Well, when I knew I'd be seeing you I got pretty a little bit.'

His eyes were still trained on the panties that matched his suit. 'A little bit, huh? Shame I'm gonna have to ruin them.'

His claws came out and you shivered as the sharp blade slid down your stomach. 'Does this turn you on, baby? The blade, the pain. Fuck.' He used the tip to slice through your panties. When they fell away, he crumpled them in his palm and brought them to his face, to sniff them.

You moaned, hands on his shoulders. 'Oh you fucking animal.'

'Oh, you don't know the half of it bub.'

He took your hips and slowly- because no matter the heat and sweat between you- you'd need to take him in slowly. Your pussy sunk down on his tip and you both groaned, clutching onto each other. He watched as his tip disappeared into your folds.

'God, we should've done this in the bar,' you groaned. 'Or when I saw you in that patch.'

'What?' he asked.

'Nothing.' You perched yourself on his shoulder and sunk down deeper.

His jaw clenched, trying to keep in his groans as your walls clenched around him. 'Fuck, bub, you're so tight. God, bet that ex back home has never taken you the way you need, huh?'

You pull yourself back up, only to sink back into him. You repeat, until you bottom out on him, thighs to thighs, his balls resting on your ass.

Logan moaned, biting down on your neck as his hands wrapped around and cupped your ass, spreading your ass cheeks to fit in better. Then, he slapped the leather and the sound must have gone through the entire forest. 'This is what you wanted huh?'

You nodded, lifting yourself up and down on his cock, walls fluttering every time. You moan his name.

He slaps your ass one more time. 'Call me Wolverine.'

You moan it out.

'There's my good girl. Count for me, baby.' With each slap he gave your red leather ass, you moaned a number and every time you got it wrong, he slapped you in the face.

You got it wrong many a time.

You rode him like a cowgirl. 'Shit, fuck, Wolvie I'm gonna. I'm gonna.'

He laughed and left your ass alone and played with your clit, sending you over the edge. 'Fuck!' neither of you had anything left to say as you both came, him shooting his seed inside of you while your juice ran down his cock.

The both of you were a sweaty mess, hair sticking to your foreheads. It took you a while of catching your breath before you carefully moved from his cock, your walls clenching to get the last bits of him inside. He groaned.

You fell back in the seat next to him. 'I take it all back, the Honda Odyssey fucks hard,' you turn your head to consider Logan. 'Shame you don't, old man.'

He growled, turning to you. 'Oh, we're just getting started, bub.'

Smut done. Go seek Jesus. Go drink some holy water. Go cool off.

Back to our regular scheduled programme.

Once the two of you were done Logan had you tied up in seat belts, kinky, but also to keep your hands off him. Neither of you had any idea you'd been moved until you woke in a bed, moaning Logan's name.

Logan was over in the corner drinking, the arms of his suit ripped off from your activities.

'Oh, arms out. What's next, tits?'

Then, walked out the 'others' Johnny. Elektra. Blade. Gambit!

You could've sworn you heard boss music somewhere.

'And who's this succulent man? You should've been in the car earlier,'

'My name is Remmy, but you can call me Gambit.'

'I'm so sorry beautiful, I want this to be gentle but who is your dialect coach, the minions? I feel like we're missing critical exposition here.'

'There's four of us,' Elektra told you.

'Four of you? Who's the fourth? Is it Magneto? Dear please god let it be young Magneto!'

'Magneto's dead.'

'Fuck!'

Then the fourth was revealed. Laura. X-23 'Holy shit, Logan, that's her, that's X-23.'

But the man carried on drinking.

'Even our sweet baby angel Johnny Storm went missing two days ago,' the Gambit told you.

'Oh I am so sorry. Whoever this Johnny is I'm sure he's doing well. And looking even better.'

Together, the five of you worked together to work out what to do, how to take Cassandra down, excited by the idea.

'Let's fucking go!' said Laura.

You cheered. 'Let's fucking go!'

'You're all fucking dead.'

You whip around to him. 'My god, Gorgeous, read the room.'

Later that night, you finally had the season three emotional opening act, Logan opening up to Laura about what really happened to the X-men in his world. It was tragic. Really it was.

As Laura left, you replaced her seat.

He grumbled, taking a swig of the bottle as you pulled off your mask, getting a look at him. 'I'm not in the mood, bub.'

So, unlike you, you didn't make any innuendos. Instead, you slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and even slower, he rested a head on your shoulder and you settled for that.

So the six of you- yes, including Wolvie from the boot- made your superhero opening.

You and Wolverine made it to the British villain two, were very quickly, she knocked you out.

'Finally, nice to give someone else a chance to talk,' said Cassandra.

'Not my strong suit,' said Logan, who was just as quickly overpowered. Cassandra thrust his claws into the ground, forcing him on all fours.

You woke up just to take a picture of that.

Cassandra looked into Logan's brain; beyond all that pain, there was something else. 'My, my, what did you get up to in that car?'

But she never got to find out as you- who had woken whilst Logan distracted her- and slammed Juggernot's helmet over her.

'Only I'm allowed to mess with his head, bitch,' you said.

'Damn right,' he grumbled.

You blushed like a schoolgirl. 'Finally!'

In the end, Logan had to be noble and take the helmet from her to save her life, only to be the man Charles wanted,

But god was it a powerful speech that left both of you speechless. In the end, your arms dropped but the two of you still got through the portal in time to get back to your universe.

The two of you crashed down onto a car, the kids gasping that it was Ladypool and Wolverine.

'Fox killed him, Disney brought him back. They're gonna make him do this until he's ninety!'

The two of you ran back to the subway base that was really the TVA, but got gate-crashed by both villains.

'Oh, so this is a foursome thing now?'

Cassandra sent you flying through a shop window for that.

When the two of you got back up, the portal was still open and, to your delight, dogpool ran back out, straight to your arms. You caught her and let her lick all over your mask despite the filthy things Logan did to it.

'There's my girl, we never have to be parted ever again,' you told her.

'Sorry!' Nicepool ran out.

'Fuck off! Cafe gratitude. Right, that's it girl, who's it gonna be, Van Wilder here or sexy hot mama?'

'Ha, that's funny, I can gently tap the fourth wall to,' said Nicepool 'Are you Hugh down under part two.'

'Thank you very much, Nicepool,' you said.

'Both of you shut up. I smell a lot of you,' said Logan.

From the portal, walked out a hundred deadpools. Including deadpool prime (whatever that was) kidpool, welshpool, oldpool, greatestshowmanpool.

First, you and Wolvie ran, using Nicepool as a cover, turns out he doesn't regenerate.

Then, you and Wolverine walked out together looking fucking awesome, which only got cooler when Logan pulled up his cowl.

'Woah, wish you'd shown me them in the car. Hey, what's the wind resistance on those blow job handles.'

'Find out later, Bub,'

You were so wet.

When the two of you made it down to the reactor, to stop Cassandra, it was you or him for the final noble sacrifice and to hell if you were gonna let him win.

Before Logan could close the door, you hit him over the head and locked him out.

'No!'

'Sorry babe, I can't hear you over all my noble sacrifice!'

'Why are you fucking doing this?' he yelled.

'Because. I am... Iron man.'

You made some rude gestures to him before you walked away to save the world.

And you were so close, so close to winning it all. You had one reactor, all you needed was the other but you were running out of time.

You would've if it wasn't for Logan grabbing your hand and finishing the chain.

The power ripped his shirts to shred and you stared unashamed of how much you stared.

'Who greased up those delicious hawian rolls?'

'In stopping her, yes, yes I was! But not as much as the man and woman who went down there after her! My man and woman, my friends. I warned them that they'd be obliterated if they went but they went anyway. Like heroes. Because that's who they were, they did what they had to do with no concern for their own safety. The fact we are still standing here is a testament to their bravery. Anyway there's nothing you or I can do to bring them back now,' said Paradox.

'He hath risen, babygirl!'

'Fuck!'

You and Logan walked out. Well, Logan walked out, you were on his back getting a piggy back ride while everyone drooled at the sight of Wolverine,

'And we're doing just fine you piece of shit,' said Logan.

Everyone agreed.

Logan let you down but you dragged your hands dramatically down his abs as he did.

A lady offered him a hoodie but you quickly stole it and cut it up before he had a chance to cover up.

Because of all your good deeds, you were allowed to take Logan home with you, and he was happy to join,

You even got Laura back for him and dogpool so you could all be a family.

You and Logan fucked like rabbits that night.

taglist (thank you!): @allmyn1ghts, @nonamevenus, @pink-jello-fish, @maneskinwh0re, @chaoticcreatorbluebird, @shakysif, @groovycass, @geeksareunique, @gotta-go-now

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@eupheme

⭒ Sugar Sugar

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

⭒ Trouble Will Find Me

His eyes darken. Fingers pinching against your skin, as he adjusts his grip, “‘s a bad idea, sweetheart. Supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

@imaginedisish

⭒ Lover You Should've Come Over

You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

@not-neverland06

⭒ Kid?

You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

⭒ Nasty Dog

You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same

⭒ We're Dating?

You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn.

@thebestandworstdayofjune

⭒ The Refrigerator Light

you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in.

@superhoeva

⭒ On His Six

Six months. Six months ago you’d started as the new counselor. Six months, and Logan can’t get you out of his head. 

@little-miss-dilf-lover

⭒ Company

keeping LOGAN HOWLETT company when you notice him having a bad day

⭒ Cowgirl

LOGAN HOWLETT is the kind of guy that likes to fuck up into you during cowgirl.

⭒ Aftercare

thinking about sitting on logan’s lap after you’re done fucking.

@moonlight-prose

⭒ In Dreams We Rest

stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

@proxima-writes

⭒ Room For Rent

logan finds a new roommate.

@happy74827

⭒ Feels Like Home

You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

@ovaryacted

⭒ Logan + Overstimulation Drabble

@sunsburns

⭒ Guess

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

@imaginedisish

⭒ Is It Casual Now?

I know baby nooo attachment, but we're...KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU'RE EATING ME OUT IS IT CASUAL NOW?

⭒ Liquid Smooth

A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

⭒ Unchained Melody

You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

[divinesolas]

The hour of the wolf

summary: You make an offer for an old friend. You offer up anything to make sure his life is spared. What the wolf wants shocks you more than anything.

Cregan Stark x Beesbury!Reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD; the hour of the wolf, mutual pining, soft? cregan, SMUT !, oral (male and fem), minor fingering (fem), face sitting, dirty talk, lord kink, hairy cregan, p in v, minor bearded cregan, breeding kink, minorly proofread

a.n: literally just a reimagining of the black aly and cregan scene from the books, i hate that fact that they rlly might cut black aly from the show let me kms.

perm cregan taglist (open!)

The room is far too hot. The glares of the men in the room far too intense. Words unspoken louder than anything. You had been sitting in this room for hours now, the arguing the anger seemingly never ending. You understand him. A stark never does forget his oaths that much has become very clear to you.

The fur covered man turns his back to the group after some harsh words leave his lips. You decide enough is enough and turn to the other men in the room. “Leave us.” Oscar and benjicot give each other nervous looks before turning back to you. “y/n…” You place a hand on Oscar's shoulder and squeeze it, “I have this, trust me.” He hesitates for a few moments before he nods and with the help of benjicot clears out the council room leaving you alone with the wolf of the north.

His back is still turned to you, staring at the window with a glare in his eyes. “My lord-” “I have done all that you all have asked. I have agreed to not storm on the green castles, i have given my men, i have been merciful to those who should have been marked to death i will not relent on this.” He had finally begun to face you, his face angry. You can see the stress of the last days weighting down on his face, a noticeable stubble from not being able to shave, bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt awful

Corlys Velaryon. once a man who you would have considered a good friend turned turncloak. The new king had pardoned his crimes along with the rest of you except for cregan, so stuck in his justice it will not stop until he has his head. Thought he had pardoned corlys, when you had went to the king to see to cregan being stopped, not wishing to fight one of the only men he trusted he did nothing to fight the northern leaving you all to try to persuade him yourselves.

You understood his anger. Having vowed himself to the queen and the late prince and both now dead due to the greens. “i’m afraid i cannot relent on this as well my lord.” You knew corlys did what he had to. maybe you would have not done the same in his place but it did not matter to you. Cregan huffs, pushing off the table he was leaning on to walk past you. “then there is nothing for us to speak of.”

You do not try to grab him as he walks past as much as you wish to. you only knew the lord stark for a year now but he had become a good friend to you and you like to think you were one to him as well. it took him awhile to open up to you, the northern not interested in speaking to most and was flat out rude to most but you persevered and was rewarded by earning the favor of the stark, leading him to seek out your council.

You felt more for the stark. More that was beyond friendship. you were a minor lady from minor house, the war and the growing tensions and battles with the hightowers leaving you even worse for wares and he was probably the most powerful man in the realm right now as well as a recent widow. He would want nothing to do with you if it were not for you insistence and you’re sure after this is all said and done if he does not agree to be the kings hand permanently this will be the last time you ever hear from the man.

Yet you are desperate. you so badly don’t want him to do this. corlys’ life more valuable than many realize. “what can i offer you?”

You voice cracks as you speak, whipping around to see his retreating form paused at your words but he does not turn around. you take a deep breath as you take the steps towards him. every step you take he steps back. “grant me this one thing and i shall never ask another thing from you ever again. If you do i shall have sonnets and songs written of you, tales of your great strength and wisdom. Grant this one wish and i will do anything you desire.”

His back hits the wall and he pears down at you with a tilted head as you stand firmly in front of him. not closely enough to be touching but close enough you can smell him, woodsmoke musk of his skin. He’s quiet but the look in his eyes shows Hes thinking about your words. You begin to grow a bit nervous when a light smile creeps up on his face. “I shall grant you your wish.”

“and what in return?”

“you.”

You stumble back while cregan remains rooted where he is, watching you with delight. “you misspeak.” “i do not.” you shake your head furiously. he cannot truly mean that as much as your skin crawls and your heart pounds you cannot accept his words. “If you are looking for a wife i am more than happy to help you find one.” “i am not looking for a wife. i want you.”

You pace around the room, tugging at the collar of your black and yellow dress. The room suddenly having grown hot and you dress uncomfortable. “There are many lovely ladies,” “im sure there are,” “The war has left many without a husband as awful as it is to speak. i would be more than happy help set you up with a couple meetings with them.” “is one of them with you? i will attend that one.”

You turn to him and almost wish you could curse at him and his pleased face. “my lord please.” his face drops and he grabs your hand tugging you into him. His hand softly coming to your face, the obvious look of affection in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “a hand for a head. give me your hand and i will do as you say. i will do as you say for the rest of my life.”

You take a couple deep breaths in disbelief, he wanted you. “A hand for a head. i will give you as you ask.” He leans in closer to you, you almost feel as though he is going to kiss you and you close your eyes in anticipation but he pauses right as your lips are about to touch and you hear him chuckle lightly. “You want me as well.” It is not a question but despite that you nod and his lips are pressed against yours. You can feel him hum and smile against your lips. He is an animal, hungerly eating at your lips like he is a starved man, as if he had been waiting for this for far too long.

You try your best to meet him all the same but he completely consumes you and you can do nothing but submit to him. When you pull apart you both stare at one another with lust in your eyes. So when you lightly step back he stares at your curiously until you sink down onto your knees and his breathing stops. “What do you think you’re doing?” You trace your hands along his thighs as you peer up at him. “doing my best to please you my lord.” he groans in delight and licks his lips. “will you allow me to my lord.” “if you do not put me in your mouth right now i will push you down and fuck you on the floor like a whore.” You wish his words did not affect you like they did, you can feel how soaked you are, you might as well be dripping onto your feet.

He allows you to grab at his pants and watches as you pull them down exposing them fully. He is huge. How in the hells were you even going to put this thing in your mouth? You can see the hair that trails up towards his stomach, the veins that line up and down him pulse with need while he lightly drips out some precum. As if driven by pure lust you reach out and lick at the drops that spill out of him, sucking around his tip to see if you can get anymore. You must be doing something right because he groans at your actions, grabbing the back of your head as you continue to push him further into your mouth. “fuck you feel so fucking good.” You whine lightly at his praise as begin to rub yourself onto the heel of your foot. When you moan around him he pushes you greedily further into him. “you feeling good too? such a greedy girl.”

You have no real clue what you’re doing but cregan helps you every step of the way, and when you put him fully in your mouth, your nose is buried in his hair. His hand on the back of your head pulling you closer and further until you get a good rhythm yourself and he lets you do as you please. “so fucking good for me fuck.” You can tell he’s close to cracking, his grip on your head grows tighter and his panting gets heavier, his words of praise turn into slurs of mumbles of nothing. He tries to pull you off not wanting to overwhelm you, “its too much.” But you keep firm and hes flowing into your mouth, you almost choke but pull yourself off of him and swallow down his salty seed.

You almost look up at him to try and see what his reaction was but you instead yelp as you’re pulled up and thrown over his shoulder. “what are you doing?!” he pulls up his pants and readjusts himself before he walks out of the room with you still over his shoulder. people stare as you walk past but nobody dares to question the hand so they all continue about their business. you even see oscar on your way who shoots you a bewildered look but you just throw your hands up in confusion and embarrassment.

You realize he is taking you to his room. He shuts the door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed. He strips himself of his furs and clothes where he’s standing bare in front of you. He truly was a man and you gulped. Greedily admiring his hairy body as he strode towards you with the utmost confidence. “If you do not want this you will tell.” You nod, “With your words.” You shiver, “yes..” hes pleased but gives you a look. “yes,,,?” you purse your lips before answering him, “yes my lord.”

He kisses you and leans on top of you until you’re laying on your back. You feel his fingers trailing up your leg and push past your underwear to push two fingers inside of you. You grip onto his shoulder and gasp as he begins to work his fingers in and out of you. “you’re dripping down my fingers, look at you pretty girl.” you shudder against him as he continues to work at you. He suddenly pulls away and you whine but he kisses your complaints away. “sit on my face.” Your brows furrow together in confusion, “what?” He chuckles, his hair tickling your face and shoulders. “just do as i say.”

Despite your confusion you nod, trusting your future husband who rolls the two of you over and you’re suddenly on top of him. He pulls every string and pushes away every piece of fabric under you sit just as bare as he is. You almost fold your arms to cover yourself but his hands grab yours as he continues to admire you with heart eyes. “you are the most beautiful lady i have ever seen.” Your face burns as you turn your head away from him. “sweet talker.” “I mean every word.”

He lays all the way back and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear what it means and you are alarmed. “You will suffocate.” He laughs and shakes his head as he continues to try and pull you up to his face. “a real man would not, trust me.” “this cannot be right.” “it will be good i promise. trust me. i want to.” Despite your doubts and worries you allow yourself to hover over his face lightly, his beard scratches at your face. you hear him sigh as he kisses your thigh, “I said sit.” He suddenly pulls you down and you’re fully sitting down on his face and he begins to lap at you.

You were not the most innocent women, having touched yourself a fair share of times but this was a completely different experience. His tongue laps at you eagerly, drinking up every drop while his hands knead your sides. You grip onto his hair as you as, your eyes closed and you throw your head back in pleasure. You keel over when his hands move you to grind on top of his face, his nose rubbing against your bud and your hips eagerly begin to move to try to get more and more friction. with every call of his name he hums and groans into you sending shockwaves down your spine.

You can do nothing to stop yourself from releasing all over his face. you mumble apologies but he simply eagerly licks up every drop before suddenly flipping you over and hovering over you. his face gleams with the shine of your essence. “ive been wanting to do that for too fucking long.” you turn away as your face heats, he turns your head back towards him and pecks you on the lips. “I hope you know i am being truthful, my words do not stem from purely desire. i love you.” Your breathe escapes you and your hands come up to cup his face, “my lord…” “cregan.” a smile plays on your face, “cregan, i have loved you since the moment i met you.” His face softens at your words, “even when i was an ass?” “especially when you were an ass.” He shakes his head in humor before he presses his lips against yours once again.

His hardness his your thigh and you moan. “i dont wish to force you.” “I want you to cregan. take me.” He wraps your legs around his hips as he aligns himself up to you, “if it hurts too much tell me.” you nod and your heart continues to pound in anticipation. It does hurt, it hurts like hell as his hard cock pushes its way past your walls, you find yourself biting his shoulder and he groans at your actions. When he bottoms out he pauses, allowing you enough time to adjust to him. Its hard to, when he is so big and you can feel every vein and the way he throbs against you. He pecks kisses around your face and down your neck to distract you, pouring his love into every peck.

“You can move.” “you sure?” it does not hurt as much anymore, sure there is a light sting but surely that will only add to the pleasure. “yes please fuck me cregan.” He lets out a noise one would only consider to be a growl, “you want me to fuck you? ill fucking fuck you.” His pace is quick but not too rough, its enough to have your toes curling with every thrust. He’s mumbling into your ear, words of praise but you can barely make sense of it as you begin to see stars. Your hands scratch down his back and he howls as you bite his shoulder. “fuck wanna see you full, with my kid.” you moan with pleasure at his words and nod your head eagerly, “yes yes yes i want that so bad please please.”

“You want my babes? for me to fuck you full and round? for you to carry my pups?” you nod eagerly against his shoulder as you begin to chant his name like its the only word you know and he calls out your name just the same. You can feel your stomach burning, “cregan im gonna im,” he shushes you as he only begins to move faster, one of his hands coming down to play with your bud. “cum fuck do it. wanna feel it.” He makes no moves to stop even as you burst around him, if anything he seems more motivated as the sounds of your skin slapping together grow louder. His thrusts your sloppy and his hips move more eagerly until you feel yourself being filled with his hot seed, pumping you full.

You two attempt to catch your breaths, you wipe his sweaty stuck hair away from his face as he grins at you. The moment suddenly ruined when loud banging hits his door and the two of you freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. “Lord stark!” you recognize the voice as one of the squires and you watch as cregans face falls with annoyance. “what?” his voice is clearly angry as he spits at the door, seemingly having no intention of pulling out of you. “one of the lord has requested an audience-” “i am not available for the rest of the day.” “but my lord-” “leave me be.”

You can sense a pause from outside the room before the footsteps suddenly begin to fade away leaving the two of you alone once more. You open your mouth to speak but he sudden pulls out and spins you over quickly shoving himself back inside of you. there will be time to talk later it seems and when a maid walks in later that evening cregan makes no attempt to explain why the room smells as it does and why the windows are foggy. but everyone knows, the lord stark is not one for quiet women.

[baddiewiththebook]

ONE OF THE BOYS

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n originally a one-shot, but I couldn’t help myself and wrote some more!

Part 1 [Part 2]

-> <-

Your heart sinks into the deepest pits of your chest. The tiny inconspicuous hole where no one would ever look. Your spirit lies under the earth, while Eddie lies bricks instead of dirt across your corpse. A quite violent death you have taken on.

“Are you still with us?” Gareth waves a hand in front of your face. Grease slips between his fingers from his two day old burger that your school pretends was freshly slapped on a grill that morning.

You squirm. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Eddie says you could come to practice,” he throws his hand up. “You’re one of the boys!”

Right.

Like someone had thrown water across your face, you slide theatrically to the floor in a puddle of you. Theatrically speaking - of course.

The lunchroom chatter dies in the back of your head like you just did a moment ago. You excuse yourself from the group, while claiming that you have forgotten your exam in the next class period and you should really put in at least a few moments of study time.

Your few moments are actually spent stowing yourself away in the ladies room.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he asked you out!” A girl squeals. “What are you going to wear? Tell me everything!”

You had stopped your self doubting and your eternally ill fading romantic imaginations you came up with while you stare at the dull gaze in your eye behind the dirty spotted bathroom mirror. You should focus on your studies anyway. Failing your senior year of high school, again, was not on your list of to-do's.

Then again, the two girls gossiping were very pretty. You took notes. Hair full and down to her chest in length. The kind of hair Texas wishes they had. Cheeks were plump, and dusted pink with some powder of sorts. Full lips covered in sweet strawberry gloss. You can smell their gloss from just a sink away. That, or perhaps that was their perfume. Sweet and feminine.

“I'm sorry,” one of them notices you staring, while she applies a thick coat of her lip-gloss. 'Strawberry Dream' is what the little label on the tube reads. “Are we being loud?”

“No, no,” you shake your head.

“Okay,” she sings awkwardly, before continuing the conversation her friend had started. “Anyway, Josie, I think we should go shopping for a new outfit. Oh! I - so - need a new gloss. Something sexy!”

“Sexy?” You accidentally slip the words, before you could stop yourself.

The girl cocks her head. “Do you usually eavesdrop?”

Not that they weren’t talking in front of her.

“My bad,” you tug at the ends of your t-shirt. “Erm- you’re trying to impress this boy?”

“Yes,” she says simply. “Do you have some sort of advice?”

Looking you up and down, she spots the stains from your lunch at your chest. Trying not to snort and jeer at your expense, she waits for you to respond. Her cocky tight lipped smile says enough.

“Actually,” you reply. “I- Why don’t you try being yourself? He clearly likes you to ask you out, so maybe you could tone it down?”

“Tone it down?” She frowns. “Like you? Tell me er- girl of some sort- how many dates have you gotten with that fresh out of bed look you wear every single day. You look like a shy boy. Yeah, I see you around. You’re small like a shrimp. You need to be shark in these waters or your going to get your head bitten off. Put on a bra. A low cut top. And, maybe some blush to hide that dead corpse face you wear-,”

“It’s my skin-,”

“When you get a date, then you get an opinion. Got it?”

“Got it,” you zip your lips. What a bitch.

-> <-

Practice, as the group of men slamming poorly synchronized chords together, is held at Gareth’s garage promptly after school. You did not participate in the noise, but rather you sit in a lawn chair onlooking. Fanning yourself with your hands, sweat glistens across your skin like armor.

Your friends finish their set. Eyes on you, you cheer for their noise that will surely draw eyes from the neighborhood. Someone will be by soon to tell the boys to quiet their racket, and to perhaps indulge themselves in a new activity like reading a book. The Book, perhaps.

“You’re getting better,” you propose promisingly.

Eddie nudges your shoulder with a fist on his way to the cooler to grab a cold soda. You pretend like your heart didn’t just stop inside of your chest.

“I told you, guys,” Eddie has been raving to his band mates (and occasional D&D players) that you, his B.F.F., wasn’t going to ruin practice. That just because you might have a new rack and hips hidden underneath this t-shirt wasn’t going to change any dynamic within the group.

They all agreed about this while staring at your ever growing chest and hips. You cover your chest again, before speaking out of turn.

“Are you ever going to preform these songs?” You ask the group.

Eddie’s plush lips touch the bottle his soda came in. Condensation from the glass dripped across his chin and down his neck to the exposed flesh of his chest.

And, they were so worried about you “developing.” Here you are, eyeballing your best friend like you haven’t ever seen him before. Suddenly, you woke up one morning and you were obsessed with him!

It isn’t like that at all. You didn’t know when you began having feelings for your best friend. Somewhere between living next to each other in the trailer park. Sneaking out after your curfew to splash in Lovers Lake (Eddie’s favorite way to wash off his worries). And, the times you tripped over your own clumsiness when Eddie was the first to rescue you. You might have just fallen into his eyes you stared at them so long. Maybe- maybe that’s when something changed.

No more boys and girls - there are men and women. High school changes us - all of us. There’s science behind it all, you suppose. You took health courses, but no scientific explanation could bring you to figure out how you were completely enamored by your best friend.

Your best friend, who is sweating underneath the heat of the garage. Finding himself without options, he strips his shirt.

“Hold this for me,” he says like there’s no issue. Because there was no issue for him, you’re alone in your feelings. Classic.

“Sure,” you fold his shirt up in your lap, while resisting the urge to inhale his scent like a trained dog trying to find a missing person. Or, like an addict getting their fix for the first time in days.

“And, yes,” Eddie announces, before slamming down a new chord. “Come watch us at the Hideout!”

“Really?!”

“Sure,” Gareth speaks for his friend. “If you want.”

“I’ll come,” you ask, “What time?”

“We’ll start setting up around six in the evening, but we’re not set to play until seven,” Eddie explains to you. “Friday.”

You nod. “I’ll be there!”

“Oh, Eddie!” Gareth grabs his attention. “You gonna bring Roxie?”

Roxie Martin? Now, she’s a hot pair of tits in a mini skirt. Full scarlet lips, Rockin’ Roxie, as some people called her, was a She Devil in human skin. Sinking her teeth into her pray, she poisons them with feminine venom. She doesn’t even have to sing them a tune, for men will follow her into the depths of the vast blue ocean without question.

Some just thought she was a slut in heels, though.

Whatever story floats.

Eddie strums a sour note.

“Dude, I’m just teasing,” his friend snickers.

Eddie scolds his friend, then the group of boys begin to slam on their instruments some more.

You sat there for hours watching Eddie slobber over his guitar. Sweat glistened down across his skin. His fingers striking each chord by heart as he did every night. Touching the strings expertly with the tips of his cherry red fingers. He begun feeling sore towards the end of the night, and the guys agree that it would probably be a good opportunity to turn in for the night.

Practice would resume tomorrow.

And you were forever and eternally frustrated.

-> <-

“Robin,” you slouched over the clear candy bowl labeled ‘Free.’ “I need to be a girl.”

Robin jabs away at the keypad of the store computer that is clearly frozen. While she might be renting out videos to people, Robin’s shit with technology.

That gave her more time to ignore her responsibilities, however, and acknowledges to your moping. With an arched brow, she sucks in her lips and she lets them go with a loud pop.

“You are a girl,” she states the obvious, while appearing to look down at your chest. “Or- so I think.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you stuff more candy into your mouth like a starved squirrel just coming out from hibernation. Squirrels hibernate, don’t they? Whatever.

“What ever could you possibly mean?” She props herself up onto her elbows.

There was a time when you were a child that a mean boy kicked dirt on you at the playground. Swooping in like your knight in shining armor, Eddie came to you to brush the dirt from your clothes and to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Feeling outcasted, Eddie surrounded himself in the weaker kids. The kids that enjoy recess sitting on the brick wall of their school, or close by the door to wait for your teachers to let you back inside.

You read books with him during quiet reading because he didn’t know how to keep the letters from mixing together. Eddie would apologize for his hair being frizzy, and all over the place. You thought he was funny looking like that.

Sometimes you wish you could go back to the good old days where your heart didn’t sing in your chest whenever your childhood best friend was near. You wish the aching in your bones would sooth itself instead of feeling fuzzy every time Eddie greeted you at a whisper from behind. That his strong hand touching you like a doll would become friendly again, and less like you want to shove him against the lockers to kiss his pretty face.

You knew better.

Yet, here you are.

Say it had something to do with what happened yesterday. Roxie’s sexy. You want her sexy. Not her. But, just the sexy. And, whoever was in the bathroom was right. You’re much more than a baggy t-shirt and a pair of denim on your legs. You grew up during the summer, and so what if you want to show off a bit. You earned your assets.

“I can’t tell you,” you put out there for Robin to read. “You’ll blab to Steve, and Steve will tell- doesn’t matter.”

You wait for her to speak, but Robin never does. She blinks at you.

“There’s this boy-,”

“A boy?!” Her voice echoes against the furthest most walls.

You wave your hands. “Robin!”

“Go on!”

“I just - I want to grow up a little.”

The jangle of the front door opening broke their conversation apart. There was nothing elegant about Eddie Munson. He slammed his jacket into the stand of desperately rentable tapes. The display wobbled. Swiveled. And, slammed into the floor. The video tapes splattered.

“Dude!” Robin huffs. “I just put those up!”

Eddie scrambles to rescue the mess. “My bad, Robs. You know? You might not want to put these right in front of the walkway. ‘Could get knocked over - see?”

Robin knew Eddie from class. Smart mouth guy with a lot to say about literature. He held a lot in his head, but once he got to a piece of paper, he could just go.

“The usual, Eddie?”

Oh, and he also rented out the same tape once a week for the past three weeks. It was a Rated R film that had a single one minute scene of a nude woman on top of a man she was suffocating. Not with her boobs- with his belt.

Robin snaps back into reality.

“Eh, looking for something new,” he fixed the display, before joining the girls at the register. “Suggestions?”

Robin slams her palm against the monitor. “Stupid thing is still frozen. Oh! Did you hear your little pal has a crush on a boy?”

“Robin!” You cringe. Turning into the wallpaper sounds really nice right about now. Hell, you’ll fix that computer if it gets Robin off the topic of you.

Anyone, she can blab to anyone, but Eddie. Where was Steve when you needed him? Oh, you are so screwed!

“What? It’s just Eddie!”

Just Eddie - yeah, Robin, that’s the problem.

“A crush? On who?” Eddie scoffs out loud.

Your jaw goes agape. “Are you saying I can’t have a crush on someone?”

“No, I just- you’re one of the guys!”

“She can’t be one of the guys forever,” Robin defends you. Perhaps she saw you twitch. “She’s a girl underneath those stains.”

You brush your dirty t-shirt.

“Robin-,”

“What? Whoever this boy is, he’s shit out of luck if he doesn’t see what we all see,” your friend continues.

Eddie teeters his balance back and forth on each foot.

“I’m going to go look for a movie,” he says.

Robin ignores him shuffling into the isles. “I’m just saying if he doesn’t like you back that is his loss. Right?”

You peak around for any sight of Eddie. His frizzy mane is locked onto a movie in the farthest isle.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your gaze. “Oh my god! This is big- no, huge- I can’t believe before my eyes your friends to lovers trope-,”

“Robin! Hush!” You whisper at a much louder volume than you anticipate.

Yet, here comes Eddie back to the counter without a film in hand. Robin shoots you a glance that screams that she’s about to burst like a toddler who has to pee, but they can’t get their overalls off.

“Can’t find anything?” Robin intertwined her fingers in front of her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Eddie sighs.

The sound that came from Robin’s lips could have been the earth splitting in two, and trying to suck her in or the angels above calling her back to heaven. She’s a bit eccentric.

Oh, God, you think she’s plotting.

“Actually,” she settles. “I have a film back here that we haven’t set out on shelves yet.”

“Is it a romance?” He guesses purely based on the actors gazing longingly on the front cover. “Robin, I don’t do romance.”

“Obviously,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “Anyway, this is a mystery. Hm? You know? Like clues and shit.”

“Clues and shit?”

“Maybe,” you signal ‘no’ to Robin, but she blatantly ignores you, “you two can watch it together. Hm? Solve the mystery, before the show ends? Let me know what you think!”

“Robin-,” Eddie begins, but Robin is already scanning the tape to rent out.

“It’ll be fun!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll see you around six for a movie night like old times?”

You mask your embarrassment. Nodding in a set agreement, Eddie left with the film still eyeing the cover like it had just insulted him.

“How could you do that?” You shame her.

Robin shrugs her shoulders, while dancing behind the counter like a relationship fairy.

“Oh! You’ll need something to wear by then!” She shouts to her coworker. “Steve! I’m not feeling well! Will you be okay for the rest of the day?!”

“Ah ha,” Steve appears like he’s been waiting for permission to enter the conversation. “You’re not leaving me here by myself!”

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” she points to her ear, as she’s setting her jacket over her shoulders. “Ear ache.”

“Robin!”

“Huh? Oh, thank you!” She shuffles herself and you out the front door.

Warm air meets you outside. Although you wished to take off another layer, you felt practically naked as is. Cotton blend shirts were thick in these spring days. The same could be said for your denim jeans.

“Won’t he be mad?” You ask.

Robin snorts. “Steve? No.”

No explanation given - no explanation necessary. Robin and Steve were like a pair of siblings at most times. Although, knowing Steve had a thing for Robin at some point made the analogy much creepier than it should have been.

You drive yourself and Robin back to your home where your family was not. They’re out of town for the whole week doing an anniversary trip. Figuring your of the age to take care of yourself, they’ve left you by yourself with only the responsibility of keeping the home clean.

“What are we looking for?” You sit on your made bed hugging one of your pillows to your chest, while Robin riffles through your closet.

Robin shoves another dress across the hanger to the disapproved pile. Her grunts and sighs are discouraging as is, but rather her blatant disregard that you like some of those clothes is hurting even more. Or, maybe you like those clothes. You haven’t gone shopping in a while.

“Do you own anything that isn’t from Forever 40?” She jokes heartily.

You tilt your head to one side. “I like my clothes.”

“Well, we don’t have time for shopping,” she scans around your room for something. Jostling your clean laundry, your papers across your desk and the drawers under them - she finally lets out an, “Ah, ha!”

You groan. “Are you going to clean your mess?”

Clearly ignoring you, Robin holds up a sharpened pair of scissors like a magic wand. Holding one of your plain shirts in the air, she begins slicing away at every angle.

“Hey!” You protest.

She pauses. “Right, put it on.”

“Rob, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“I’ll buy you another one,” she shoves your head through the hole, and continues sniping at the edges. Fondling your chest, she measures where the top of your breast lies. “Hey! Your the first woman to let me touch their boobs. Congrats!”

You laugh at this. “Robin, as your friend, you can touch my boobs any time you need a fix.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” she jokes back. With one more snip, she steps away from you. “You have any skirts? No, of course you don’t. Jeans will have to do.”

You couldn’t hear Robin’s tangent. In the standing mirror hung on your wall, you saw someone new. Surely, she moves when you move. Her chest bounces while she breathes. That tan from the summer on the beach is touching her skin in a most devilish manor. You hold your chin a bit higher seeing what a few snips from craft scissors will do.

“Makeup!” Robin insists.

Pink rouge presses into your cheekbones. Those cheekbones you earned from your grandmother. That’s always the compliment your mother spoke. And, mascara coated thickly across your eyelashes. Your lashes are rather short, but with that black mascara you were seeing yourself glow with confidence.

Lip gloss that tasted like honey-

“In case you’re kissing any boys tonight,” she clicks the tube together with the wand. “My dear, you’re ready.”

You take a spin in the mirror.

“I hardly recognize myself,” you touch your hair.

Robin slaps your hand away. “Don’t mess that up, before Eddie gets here. Oh! And, look at the time, I should go.”

You’re left by yourself for another hour. Twiddling your thumbs, and checking your makeup by the minute. Eventually, you pop popcorn in the microwave and place the bowl in the center of the coffee table in the living room. You twist the bowl around, so you can’t see the chip on the side from when you dropped the bowl a few years ago.

Tapping your foot against the plush carpet beneath your feet, you travel between worlds where you feel ridiculous for dressing up like this, but you also feel hot.

Denim cuts at your waist, and you begin to doubt wearing jeans instead of pajamas. You never wore jeans after you got home. Eddie will surely know what’s up.

You have no time to change your mind because the doorbell rings through the quiet house. Stillness - as if moving would threaten your life somehow. Then, again, the doorbell sings.

You drag the sweat from your hands onto the back of your jeans. Jeans that you should have changed to shorts. He’ll see right through your ruse!

You settle your nerves with one more glance over in the mirror in your little entryway. When you open the front door, Eddie’s tickling the lavender your mom set out on the front porch last week.

“What? Your shirt go through a lawnmower?” Was the first thing he says.

You knew it.

“Erm-,”

“I brought the movie, and beer,” he held up the movie and a six pack he snaked off of his uncle. “Come on, I’m freezing out here.”

Eddie doesn’t ask where anything is. He’s been here so many times before, birthdays, holidays and any time your mother has just come back from the supermarket with “the good snacks.”

You knew each other for some time, which is probably why he’s never going to see you as someone other than his best friend. Why would you think about that? You had a shot, right?

“I popped popcorn,” you pointed in the living room.

“Sick,” he drops down into your couch. “We can go ahead and start the movie - the guys will be here soon.”

“The guys?” You blurt.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says. “Like old times?”

“Right,” the light in your eye fades, and you just hope Eddie can’t sense the hesitance in your tone.

In the next hour, your quiet date night that had been set up by your overly optimistic friend, swirls in the direction that it is always meant to be. You squish into the couch arm rest, while Gareth battles Eddie over the movie choice. Although, this time the boys came to an agreement that this was not an action movie like Robin promised Eddie earlier.

“Where’s the gore?!” Gareth flings popcorn at the television screen. “Throw her off the ledge!”

“You want to see an innocent woman flung to her death?” You snap at him.

A piece of popcorn drops from Gareth’s mouth, and into his awaiting lap. You didn’t come to raising your tone with the boys unless something truly bothers you. Clearly, by the tightness in your chest, some of the anger spills over the edge. Quite like the woman dangling the man’s waist.

“Never mind,” you stand. “I’m going to make more popcorn.”

Taking the bowl from Eddie, you stow away in the comfort of your kitchen. Before your mother left for her trip, a folded note stacked on the island told you to not bring anyone over. But, if you are going to have boys over, she asks that you use protection. She has a wild imagination if she thinks her daughter has a sex life.

She must have passed this onto you. You toss yourself at someone, who obviously holds no similar feelings as you do. This whole night was a bust. Your eyes itch from the mascara. Your lips bled from when you chewed on them like they’re your last meal. At least the color matches with your lip gloss that you reapplied many times in the bathroom when you need a break from the crowd in your living room. And, you can’t feel your waist anymore. Tingling below the belt - and for all the wrong reasons.

“You okay?” Gareth’s voice startles you.

You spin around, and he’s there standing where the carpet meets the linoleum.

A yell from the living room suggests something mortifying must have happened in the film like the boy finally kissing the girl, or perhaps saying something romantic.

“Yeah,” you blink. “Just- making more popcorn.”

Gareth doesn’t say anything about the popcorn bags sitting on the counter next to him, but the room reads itself. You scamper over to the bag, before ripping the plastic and the bag apart by accident sending kernels across the floor. Gareth meets you at the floor below.

“Shit,” you sniff. “I’ll get the broom.”

“Hey,” he grabs your arm, before you can run off again. “What’s going on?”

You sit next to the mess on the floor letting out a gust of air from your lungs that you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

“It’s stupid,” you tell him.

Gareth moves a piece of your hair from in front of your face. “What?”

You look at him for the first time. Between you two, you didn’t have to say a word he didn’t already know. Because while you’re chasing Eddie, Gareth’s warm heart is following after you. You’re blind to him before.

“Eddie’s not going to like me back, is he?” You whisper at an almost inaudible volume. Dabbing at your eye, you wipe the single tear threatening to break the damn.

Gareth sits next to you with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I think he just hasn’t woken up yet. He does talk about you a lot when your not around.”

“Really?”

“You scare him,” Gareth lets out a breathy laugh. “In a good way. He- he’s never had someone to rely on in his life besides his uncle. And, if what Eddie says is true, you’ll never truly change to please anyone. You’re loyal, and your funny. You’re beyond beautiful. The Goddesses shrivel in your light-.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“Okay, I might have added that last part,” he admits. “But, you never know if you don’t try.”

You reach out for his hand. “Thank you, Gareth.”

He squeezes your hand. “Anytime.”

You say. “And I- I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Erm- you know.”

“I guess I do,” he looks away. “I’ll be fine.”

You toss a popcorn kernel Gareth’s direction hoping to lighten the mood. Gareth snorts and tosses one back.

“We should clean up,” you tell him.

Gareth agrees. “Oh, and - when I said you don’t change, I meant it.”

You pull at your half shirt. “Yeah, I don’t think this is me. Everyone just kept telling me to stop dressing like a boy.”

“Trust me,” Gareth suggests. “You do not look like a boy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you gather yourself on your own two feet. “I don’t know - I kind of like the look, but maybe tone it down a bit?”

“I’ll get the broom,” Gareth says leaving your question unanswered. "Oh, and I promise to keep myself and the guys out of your way the next time Eddie suggests we all have a 'movie night'" at your house."

"You caught onto that?"

"It's a classic move," he sweeps. "I can't say I wasn't going to try it on you some day."

"Well, I'm sorry that it won’t work out between us," you assure him.

"I'll survive," he won’t really look at you now, only at the task at hand. "Besides, I know how great of a guy Eddie is. If you do go out with him, there’s no hard feelings."

Gareth sweeps every last kernel from the floor, then uses the dust pan to scoop them up and finally tosses them into the bin. By the time he's done scoping out every inch of your floor, you're done popping a new bag of popcorn.

The movie night continues without a hitch (aside from the merciless damning of the film coming from each of the boys in your home). Your eye on the one man, who could never look at you the way you do him. But, you don't know that for sure.

Because, as soon as you look away, Eddie's full attention is on you.

[pushingdaisies1]

Kinda hate you, kinda love you . . . ♡

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY -> Being an X-men was a lot for you to sign up for. Well.. you didn't have a chance to deny this safe haven. The school became your home and the people that made up the X-men like a weird little familial unit. You had many reasons for staying as long as you did, but one was more prickly and jaded. The feelings you harbored for a stern and calloused Logan were.. weird for you to feel firsthand. One day, you are stuck overlooking a danger room drill between Gambit and Logan. With the new member of your world-saving team Jubilee by your side, it's too dull to NOT talk with each other. She was a good kid, hyperactive and spirited that's for sure. You talk, and talk a lot you do to the human embodiment of the fourth of July. It makes you think a little bit too hard about yours and Logans... predicament. (✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> Hiii!!! This is my first time writing stuff for Logan so - bee tee dubs it may be complete and utter horse shit. I'd like to thank @velvrei for helping me ignite some well-dead thoughts. Genuinely love ur work sm and reading that and a lot more new/old logan content helped TONS. This is linked to the {♡x-men animated series/x-men97♡} series. I do wanna write more for the Deadpool timeline xmen/early 2000s timeline xmen!! But after seeing the masterpiece that is Deadpool and Wolverine, I lowkey just clung to those shows. I love animated Logan!! He is even more emotionally stunted/sassy sad!! (✧ ˚.) CWS (?) -> Logan nd u are sad ppl who don't know how to voice ur feelings!! , pining from afar/one-sided not so one-sided yearning, UHM HURT/KINDA COMFORT??? MAYBE??? I THINK??? , unprompted suggestiveness from logan , mentions of struggling to connect with other ppl/fears of the future (bay bay jubilee my love) , u and Jubilee just kinda bond, off topic idk cajun dialect so..... , and u infodump as a weird suto older sister/mom in her life, this was all very spur of the moment so uhm - not proofread!!! kinda!!!!!!!

The dangeroom was a room a lot of the X-men team spent their time in. To either train for a new threat or for general movement, drills were a common theme. Especially after world-shaking events, which were always somehow a constant, the professor was the equivalent of an alarm clock. Drills this, always having to run down into the war room. You didn't mind the training sessions if it was one-on-one or even with the whole team. Sometimes though, it was almost nagging. 

Though there were little things you'd do to pass this time. If you were made to overlook it or otherwise. Most of the time there didn't need to be supervision within the training center itself. Everyone was on high alert, and off days were few and far between. Logan had been hashing it out with Gambit all morning and wanted to do a specific procedure setting. You held your head in your hands as you sighed at the grown men's demands. Gambit was a professional sweet talker, Logan wasn't when needed. Of course, you complied, understanding the sudden want for more extensive training. When Jubilee volunteered you started to not loathe the idea of sitting in on Logan and Gambit - literally butting heads. 

Jubilee was a nice kid, you felt bad for her sudden entrance into life within the school. The professor was welcoming as always. With your push and her foster parents wanting her to be safe from threats like the sentinels, she was a bonified member.

Being the "newbie" always had its drawbacks. From day one you made sure to have her back, you could relate to her whole fish-out-of-water point of view. Logan saw the way you attached fast to the kid. He was like a vault of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings he never wanted to bring up or even let alone talk about. But it made your heart flutter just a tad when he sat his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb against it.

He had stopped you before you were about to retire to your room. In the doorway to your personal, pillow escape he made sure to reel you down to earth. "Give the kid some breathing room. I know you want to help but there's no use for you smothering her."

You were almost baffled. What was he going on about? You were just looking out for her? Deep down, you did know what he meant. He might have not been a long-term X-Men member. But he did know you and the fragments of "memories" you held so dearly close to your chest. You two were so different and yet one in the same. Before you could even argue, he gave you a small .. somewhat comforting pat on said shoulder. "Just a friendly word of advice bub, don't take it so close to heart. Oh wait, that's inevitable." He joked at you with his signature toothy grin. You couldn't help but scoff in surprise and laughter as he jabbed at you with his SINGULAR witty remark.

Logan could be many things. Rough around the edges, even a total asshole when he felt like it. But to you, he was your kryptonite. It was pathetic the way you'd always eventually be pulled to bend at that man's every word. He just did that to you, and you had no answer to it. 

Making your way up to the upper room with Jubilee, you watched with tired eyes as the door to the observation room slid open. Cold - walls and floor head to toe with this sleek metal texture. There were two chairs, right behind the control panel where the training sequence(s) would be initiated. Your eyes were trained on the window as you watched Gambit and Logan make their entrance inside the training room itself. Gambit of course was rapidly shuffling a deck of cards. They were almost flying in the palms of his hands as he prepared them. Logan was of course blabbing his big mouth, in his signature suit "lumbering up" as he would call it. Finally, as you just now sat your bottom into the smooth-cushioned observation chairs, Jubilee was already starting the conversation. Thank god for you as you were still shaking the morning off of you."So what? , we just watch them throw around with each other, or what?" She cracked with a curious glance at the two men down below. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand as you leaned back. "Pretty much, we're here just in case the system doesn't shut down in time. Sometimes it does that."

She paused before she gave you a pointed look, her chunky pink sunglasses almost falling off of her black head of hair. "We're babysitting them!?" She retorted with a sort of faux annoyance. "I mean it's 'something' to do but - come on...." She groaned as she crossed her arms, heavy in on the air quotations. Cutting in, you directed your hand to the control panel. "No no no, not just that.”

Gathering your thoughts, you pointed out each scenario on the deck. You couldn't help but crack a smile at Jubilee's small "ohs" and "ah's". With the development, you two were brought into a nice steady stream of conversation. Hunched in her seat, yellow boots crinkling in this position, she poked and prodded you about your style and so on. it was nice to be looked at with such idealization. Her eyes were huge with wonder as she jumped to questions and searched for answers. Though it was only so nice until the two of you were interrupted by the impact of a card deck. As it smacked against the window, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Hitting the intercom, you cleared your throat. "So sorry gentlemen! You two ready or what?" You retorted as you leaned over the panel. Gambit gathered back the cards into his hands. "Me? , 'course cher! Any day I would love to stick it to da fuzz ball over der." He remarked with a scheming smirk. Logan growled as his claws immediately sprouted from his knuckles. "I'll show you fuzz ball you pest." His lip curled up almost like a predator ready to pounce.

Jubilee sat back quiet as a mouse as she watched you talk through to the two. "Alrighty alright! Save the pouncing for later." You barked with a small chuckle at the end. You couldn't help but feel buzzy at the way Logan reared his head up. Gambit was too busy swapping cards from hand to hand. But all of Logan's attention was just on you, it was always just on you.

 "Okay, how are we feeling about the ruined city for today?" You asked the two as Gambit started to twirl a card in between his middle and pointer fingers. "Yes yes yes, dat will do just nicely, right Wolvie?" He asserted - training a hard on the hard-headed "foe." Logan's voice was low and gruff as he found his stance. "Don't get so ahead of yourself Gamby." He retorted as he turned back to you in the window. "Start it up doll, before this one here loses all of his spice." He barked with a laugh as Logan jostled his mask on. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile. "If you say so, bee-tee-dubs .. don't kill each other! Please and thank you." You affirmed as the array of buttons were clicked. As the scenery shifted into a torn-down cityscape, foes were already on the two men. The only fun thing about watching over the training sessions was getting to watch fellow X-Men in action. Just not with the risk of losing your life in the process. Leaning back into your chair, you took in a nice breath of air. Peace, for now at least. Jubilee sat up more straight, letting her bright yellow duster-like jacket collect at the sides of her chair. She brought her legs to her chest as both you and she watched Gambit and Logans fighting. You could feel her eyes wander to you in the quiet. You looked directly towards her, a sympathetic smile gracing your face. "How are you feeling?" Your voice was small but warm, comforting almost. This was the first time someone had even really asked her. "I don't know... it's like everything is just changing at once. I feel like a big Rubix cube." She said with a frown as she got more comfortable where she sat. You nodded your head in almost remembrance. "Trust me, becoming an X-men isn't the hardest part. It's living like one." Admitting with a soft sort of comfort, Jubilee was already warmer than before. The training session flew by as you two just talked and talked. She lamented about what life would be like now, what she would and wouldn't miss. How she was stripped of living like a normal teenager. "I mean everyone here has already been so nice to me, but this is just gonna take a lot of getting used to. ", she would lament to you in honesty. You tried to be as insightful as possible. Telling her that living as an X-men will always be tricky. But there will always be the people around here that'll keep you steady. Her ears perked up when you listed off your so-called "anchors." She immediately butted in after you listed off the Wolverine himself, Logan. "That guy? You two seem to be always at each other's throats?" She cracked at you with an inquisitive grin. "Well I mean yeah - he can be .. overly confident a lot of the time." You were almost reminding yourself. You didn't realize how long you spent talking about your scruffy metal-clawed 'friend.' You went on and on about how he combated with you in the best possible ways. How with his time in the X-Men, he opened up your worldview in many instances. He did so much to you and for you. He was almost like your escape in a way, and he maybe shared the same view. You didn't get into the nitty-gritty details of it, 'cause ew. But the moments away from daily life hecticness within the school you and he shared were your favorite. His arms were the sweetest embrace anyone could ask for. But that's what friends do, that's what friends are for.

 Though you always wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were holding on to nothing. Maybe there was an intimate connection between you two hiding under the surface. But you had a track record of getting your hopes up. You dashed those daydreams away as Jubilee yanked you back down into the now of things. Time flew by as the training sequence ended. Logan was immediately gloating his way out of the danger room. You and Jubilee met the two halfway. Gambit sang your high praises as he lamented about kicking Logan's ass in the drill. As the two grown men bickered Jubilee made her exit known. Since the professor was already summoning them all to the war room. Gambit waved you off with a small wink and another grand shuffle of his cards. Which just left you and logan ... fun. 

He quirked his brow in your direction as he realized your quiet demeanor. “Can you believe the guy? - come on bub you saw me!” He said in astonishment at Gambit's gambit tendencies. You crinkled your nose in a small giggle. If you were seeing straight, you couldn’t help but notice a small dash of a smile on Logan's face once he saw your mood brighten. His smile always found ways to make your knees weak and arms all jelly. “Yeah yeah, dont get your panties in a twist Lo.” You said with a twinkle in your eye. A grin followed spreading almost ear to ear.

His eyes softened ever so slightly with your jokes. He grumbled out his poorest joke yet. “Oh, I’ll show you.” He retorted before yanking you into him. Your back met his chest plate as you felt his collection of sweat. His muscled arms wrapped around your midsection as he whirled you around like a windmill. You ignited with laughter and “yucks” as you felt his sweat spreading onto you. You fought out his hold with a grimace and a sheepish chuckle, wiping your eye. “Christ man, you got all your .. muck on me!”

By now his claws were already dashed away. So his hands were now placed on his hips. He rolled his eyes as he looked you up and down. “Come on, you’ll live to see another day shrimpy.” He claimed with his eyes slowly wandering. “I look like a wet dog thanks to you.” You frowned jokingly, shaking your arms out. “On and on with you.” He remarked once again with his eyes rolling AGAIN soon after.

Closer and closer the two of you got as you both threw phony insults back and forth. Before your lips were inches away from one another. He drawled his quick mouth up and spat back something that would leave your mind in utter… shock. Was confusion the right word?  “Don’t play around with me, dimples. I know you’d like more than just my arms around you.” You quickly gasped out the pocket of air you were holding onto. A long pause was felt throughout the hall before you two darted in separate ways.

“I need to change!” You sheepishly shouted as you headed in the opposite direction of him. He did the same, mumbling whatever under his breath. “Don’t slip and fall!” He coughed out as you rubbed your face in annoyance. “Eat shit, Logan!” , “That’ll be a long time coming!” The both of you remarked to the other in unison. Both of your voices share the same sort of flustered frustration. You raced into the showers as you soon stumbled towards the sinks.

You splashed your face with cold water as your heart was still racing. Your cheeks were burning up let alone from his words. But you were soon able to catch up with your breath. Regaining your composure you looked yourself in the mirror. Gritting your teeth as you looked at the fool Logan made you. The Wolverine could be a hard-headed buffoon. Always on his way to making a snide insult with whichever X-men member was disagreeing with him. But god damn it was he your poison. You hated him and he hated you. That was the thing that kept you steady as you changed into uniform and raced towards the ongoing meeting. You knew that same smile still lingered on your face once you made your entrance into the war room. Able to brush off the team's sudden accusations as you made sure to remind everyone about the issue at hand. The Professor thanked you as he went back to discussing what new threats plagued human life. Your eyes always made their way back to Logans with small lingers. Making eye contact with you, his eye-line was diverted by you as you turned your attention back to the professor. The Wolverine was a fool, and he had already found purchase in your foolish heart. 

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 part two - ⭐️

[nnight-dances]

REPETITION / RARE LOVE

pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content

tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting

warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.

WHAT TO EXPECT

it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)

OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.

“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”

you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”

mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”

“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.

you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”

“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”

you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”

you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”

“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”

“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”

you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”

“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”

“i don't want an answer.”

“…”

"because i'm going to move on from him!"

"..."

“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”

“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”

“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.

—

yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”

you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”

“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”

“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”

yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”

you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”

“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”

“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”

you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.

“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”

“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.

“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”

you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”

“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”

“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”

jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”

he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”

—

“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”

you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”

“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”

you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”

five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.

he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.

“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”

“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”

“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”

you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”

time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”

“zuha, hi! did you—”

“yep, i got your lip gloss.”

you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”

mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”

kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”

“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”

“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”

“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”

“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”

“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”

mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”

“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”

“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.

“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”

“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”

mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”

you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”

“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.

“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”

kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”

jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”

“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.

swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—

you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”

he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”

you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”

you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”

“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”

“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”

“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”

you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”

the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.

as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”

mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”

“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”

he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”

“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”

he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”

—

an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.

the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.

big gyu: u look good

big gyu: kinda basic tho

you: yea i thought so too

you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.

candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.

however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.

you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”

you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.

“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”

you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”

“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”

jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”

you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”

“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”

“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.

big gyu: niceee thats hot

big gyu: u should get this dress

big gyu: pls

big gyu: pls

you: …girl why are u begging me

big gyu: because.

big gyu: you’re getting this dress right

you: no i’d die of overheating in it

big gyu: and it’d be worht it

you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...

you: wtv this one's rejected.

you: i still have another dress to try

you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.

“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”

you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”

“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”

“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”

mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”

“ugh, alright, give me five.”

in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.

“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”

you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”

“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”

“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”

his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”

you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.

“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”

jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.

“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”

“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”

you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”

he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.

as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.

entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.

you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.

you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”

“can i talk to you for a sec?”

you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”

“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”

“but, the others—”

“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”

out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.

you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”

you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”

“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”

you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.

you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”

you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”

sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”

you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.

the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.

sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.

—

the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.

you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.

his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.

“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”

you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”

mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”

you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”

mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”

“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”

he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”

“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”

she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”

you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.

“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"

“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”

he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”

you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”

“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”

“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”

“who’d be the father then?”

your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.

“did something happen between you two?”

“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”

you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”

“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”

“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”

after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.

“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”

“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”

“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”

“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha’s so precious.”

“don’t be like that, y/n.”

“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”

mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)

“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”

“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”

“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”

mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"

“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”

he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”

you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”

“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”

“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”

he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”

you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”

“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”

“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”

“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”

“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”

“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”

“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.

mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”

you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”

—

“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”

“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”

hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”

the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?

hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”

hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”

“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”

he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”

you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”

“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.

“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”

hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”

“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”

“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”

you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.

he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”

you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”

ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.

it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.

but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.

“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”

“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”

he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.

“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.

“you’re right. routine is good for people.”

“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”

“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.

“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”

he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”

“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”

“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”

your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”

“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.

“do you ever think we should be more?”

mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”

it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.

if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.

“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.

you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”

mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”

“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”

“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”

it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.

“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”

this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”

“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”

you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”

“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”

mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.

you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)

he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.

“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.

as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.

his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.

so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”

you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.

he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.

“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.

“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.

he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."

—

mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.

it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.

he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.

it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.

the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.

space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”

mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.

“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”

“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.

maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”

jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”

“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.

“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.

the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.

or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—

you. you’re here.

almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.

when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.

mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.

he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.

“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”

mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.

“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.

you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”

jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.

but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”

the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.

that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.

you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.

“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.

you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.

you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”

he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”

you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”

“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.

mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”

but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.

“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”

“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.

you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.

but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”

when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”

and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.

but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.

you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.

“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.

“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”

“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.

jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”

“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”

“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”

“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”

you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.

suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.

your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.

you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.

he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”

you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”

you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.

his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”

mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”

of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.

so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.

that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.

you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”

ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.

back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”

“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”

“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”

“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”

you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.

“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”

you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”

mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”

you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”

with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”

you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”

suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.

you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”

—

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.

anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!

[wandagcre]

drive you mad (part 1) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You’re reunited with your old friend, Samantha Loomis, and she couldn't be any more of a puzzle to you. It doesn't take long to become entangled with her once again – replacing the previously wholesome hangouts; this time you find yourself being in her sheets way more often.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, public sex, voyeurism, mirror sex, praise, degradation, fingering, poor communication, mentions of violence, hints of stalking, sam referring to you in spanish endearments (bc why not), not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 10k+

[ PART ONE of TWO | Next ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

You liked the universe and its ways of diverting you into paths you never thought to cross paths once again.

Weeks ago, attending another lousy gala was against your whole will. It didn’t seem necessary to you, finding no difference whether your presence was something that would be amiss to the buffoons dressed in suits of your multimillion dollar company. Sure, you completely detested the idea, yet you gave it a chance, as your good colleague turned into a friend – was nagging you for days before the event. She insisted it was an opportunity (a scenario eerily familiar to your college days as if it was a mere frat party) you thought that might as well maximize these so-called connections, right? So, you caved in and went dressed to kill, anyway.

Funnily enough, the said colleague was nowhere to be seen even if she was the sole reason of your presence here tonight. She claims that she had the flu and so you were forced to take in the hors-d’œuvre by yourself.

Here you were, in a fitted beige-colored pantsuit. You didn’t know whether it was your fake it ‘till you make it mantra during work, but you managed to survive (so far). Sipping in your flute of champagne and socializing with people. Your feet were starting to ache and so were your cheeks due to the endless polite smiling you have done for the night. It was draining, so to say.

Just as you were on your way to the bathroom to do some touch up, a recognizable voice made its way to you.

“Please do tell me that you went here without a date, (y/n/n).” a sultry voice uttered directly on your ears and you turned to them too fast, almost getting a whiplash.

You haven’t heard of that for a while. It was a nickname that your closest friends and family called you by.

Lo and behold – it was Samantha Loomis. 

Your eyes fluttered as she left you flabbergasted for multiple reasons. Sam had you putting your hand on your chest, beating madly as if you’ve seen a ghost. 

“Shit. Sam, you scared me, Jesus. Can’t you say hello like a normal person?”

She bodied the suit better than every man in the room. Sam stood with hands in her pocket, an aura that can easily rival anyone else’s confidence in the room, her jet black hair was fixed in a neat ponytail. She was donned in a well put navy blue suit – truly tailored to her perfect figure, emphasizing her good attributes. Damn this woman. Sam was still taller than you and insanely oozing with attractiveness.

Another thing? This woman was the one you were silently pining over during your teenage years. You were also heartbroken when she left town abruptly, leaving no trace behind.

“Finished checking me out?” she says, cocky. “Not one hi for me? you’re still easily frightened, (y/n/n).” a smile ghosts on her face as if Sam knew a secret. “So, how are you? If you’ve got a mystery date for tonight, I’d say they are doing a bad job of keeping you entertained.”

“Hi. Happy now?” You immediately blush at her blatant flood of compliments. “And I’m fine. Really, I’m just here to enjoy the drinks and all, maybe a bit of expanding in the work field too. So, it’s definitely just me – a last minute decision.”

Sam nods, eyes trailing on you. 

“I’m more than happy to hear that. ‘Cause that also means I can do this–?” she reached for your hand and pressed her lips at the back of it, making you flustered more than ever.

You weren’t used to Sam being this direct. She was affectionate, but not to this extent. She was more laid-back as you recall, not as forward and not this flirty. Women had always been your achilles’ heel but to experience this with Sam in the present time – it was a no-brainer that your old feelings were being tested.

“You always do this to the women you encounter?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just you, (y/n/n).”

The way she kept saying your nickname felt too intimate as it was the one you were previously called back in one of the towns you used to stay in. One that Sam was a part of until she moved again – a common occurrence in her life that she mentioned in passing – albeit you were somewhat expecting it, you didn’t actually think it would hurt that much still.

You were by each other’s side all night. She blossomed into a refined and sophisticated woman, answering questions from other gentlemen and business people in the room with unshakable confidence. It was apparent too, with how they looked at her with respect. Sam even introduced you to others too, by your respective job and all, definitely buttering up your good qualities too that you haven’t even realized that this was benefiting you in your long forgotten plans of exposure. 

“I don’t think I should be with you Sam,” you whisper close to Sam who had her eyebrows furrowed at your words. “Whatever your business is, it’s definitely beyond what I do. Wouldn’t it be sketchy? Or like using you? Because that’s not–”

“Now slow down, honey. It’s no problem with me. Honestly, I was just thrilled to have you by my side tonight and you deserve the good word and all. It’s still me, (y/n/n).” she assured you as she held you softly by your shoulder. 

Exhaling the distress away, your stomach soon fluttered at Sam’s intentions.

“I’m having fun too, just so you know.” You truthfully admit, stopping a stupid smile to spread on your face. Sam gleamed at your words, evidently content as you are.

Soon you were catching up a little with life. Sam asked you how long you have been away from your hometown and what brought you to a new one. You sheepishly say that a new start was long overdue for you and interestingly, Sam returns the same sentiment, albeit there was longing in her tone but it disappeared quickly as it went. Before you could attempt to pry for more, a new set of people were catching up to the two of you, making you sigh.

Sam murmured to you after the man had left. “That man is definitely a no. He’s got a good history of attempting to shag his secretaries. Bound to be kicked from their board soon. I assumed a terrible workload and possibly environment, too.”

“Noted. Crossing that one out immediately.” You snorted at her unfiltered yet helpful tip. “He was rather creepy with how he was staring.. It’s like his first time seeing a pair of boobs during Victorian times.” you quip and laughter filled your chest.

“Did he now?” Sam squinted her eyes. “Well… you’re absolutely a sight for sore eyes, alright.” You see her eyes now surely over the valley of your chest. 

Was she really checking you out? 

Another new information for you is that Sam had apparently grown playful. You were astounded to receive her gaze, you elbowed her side. “I’m just saying! But him? oh he’s not worth your time, is all.” Sam reasoned, petulant.

“And you’re no better.”

“Excuse me, I am. I was simply admiring you.” she quipped at you very quickly and sipped her drink.

“If you say so. And hey, what about her?” you subtly point at the tall, middle-aged woman you met earlier. 

“Uh-uh, also a pass. Better CEO than him and the others, for sure, but you could do better. A bit of the same as the old man, just a woman version of him on a somewhat low profile.”

You look with much interest now. For two different reasons – one, because you didn’t expect that and two, how exactly of a big shot was Sam to know all of this insider information?

“Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Not for me. Sam murmured as she sipped on her drink. You look at her quizzically, obviously not catching her words. 

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, what about that one…” Sam subtly points out another person across from you. 

She listed out the company’s stand point, what they were looking for, and you momentarily tuned out – savoring her voice that melted in your ear.

“How do you know all of this?” You blurt out.

Sam was sporting a distant tight-lipped smile. “I own a few businesses from here and there. Can’t spill them all to you in one night. I have to remain mysterious so I can be interesting for you, don’t I, honey?” she tilted her head.

For the hundredth time that night, your heart pounded and cheeks were crimson once again, all by Samantha Loomis.

:: 

This morning as you flipped through the channels, it reported the death of a wealthy CEO, stabbed in most inhumane ways and his eyes were reportedly gouged out. 

Momentarily, you felt sick to your stomach until you realized that it was the same man who was a creep from the gala. You vividly recall Sam's words; with this man's business fluctuating badly and his poor work ethics, your thoughts gradually eased and snapped yourself out of it. He did see that one coming, you suppose.

You couldn’t be any more grateful that you’re far from that circle.

::

While you were terrified, it didn't stop you from going outside by yourself. Normally, this routine of yours is done during day time. However, resting got the best of your time this weekend and so with a resigned sigh, you came prepared with a pepper spray that you blatantly held as your free hand pushed the cart. Your stock of groceries wouldn't be done by itself, after all. Were you paranoid? (The answer is yes, rightfully so).

The mundane chore was going well. 

Until you were on one aisle, on your tip-toes, barely reaching the chips that were now placed a tier higher than normal. It’s like a trick and you were being played, as coincidentally, it was the last one on the rack. You irrationally listed this as a bad sign - change wasn't to be welcomed for you in times of horror.

The lighting grew dark and it shadowed you. it triggered your fight or flight mode as this person towered you from behind, the scent strongly engulfed your senses and so did their body frame, making you gasp as their front was almost pressed against you. 

They picked up the item for you and as you turned around, it was Sam.

She hasn’t preoccupied your mind for a while and you take in her presence as a fresh breath of air.

"Hey, pretty girl, I don't want you getting hurt." She joked and dropped the chips herself on your cart. 

"Fancy seeing you here," you retort with equal amusement to the woman in front of you. You thought it was unfair that she always stunned you as you saw her casual get up. 

Sam wore a bomber jacket and a navy baseball cap. She handheld her own cart and interestingly filled it with junk food, just like yours, and a couple of cleaning disinfectants.

"Do you usually shop this late?” Sam quips gently, hearing the concern in her tone.

You sheepishly smiled, "I know. But in my defense, work kept me late unfortunately. Or maybe it was me over napping..." admitting it out loud felt silly. "I don't have much of a choice. I ran out of stash in my pantry and while it's not really a good time.. wait, I don’t mean that with you, but what I meant is that, given the circumstances happening right now - it’s horrifying to be out and about."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your rambling. She found it endearing that you had to clarify each time how you liked her company. 

"And what circumstances are we talking about?"

"You know, the whole killing thing," you hushed down low and kept walking with Sam who hummed right behind you. "Haven’t you heard it yet? It honestly had me worried. I don't want to be put in that position."

You both come across the isle of candies, you picked up a couple of them. Embarrassment soon crept in the more you confided your fear out in the open and how you revealed your unhealthy fix of snacks in the presence of Sam, the woman you're swooning about.

"I see. That explains your trusty pepper spray," Sam nodded along in understanding. "Say, do you mind if I accompany you? Sticking together could be better, after all." she lightly nudged your side with her arm and swiftly took over to push your cart by her own.

An easy smile crossed your features. You can't say no to spending more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

::

The simple scare and business exchange was the start of your reconnection with Sam. 

It seemed that Sam was sticking for good - or near you. At least, that’s what you thought so. Her place couldn’t be that far as you happened to come across her for a few times already. 

A few days later she surprised you, sent a rather straightforward message and opened up how she misses you (you almost fainted on that message). Come the weekend, Sam called you to say that she’s sending a driver to pick you up around 6 PM. After you gave her your address, Sam notes to dress in nothing strict and formal as the gala, and you quote Sam who said in her own words: just bring your pretty self. 

It was rather bossy and forward, if you were being honest. Though your senses dulled it out of bias, being Sam’s friend in the past she hasn’t done anything to put you in harm.

Another thing that brought you to a conundrum was how it sounded like a date but you didn’t want to be that hopeful – even with her endless flirting. You simply note it as another Sam evolution; a part of her confident self. The driver who picked you up was dressed in casual business attire, no older than late 20s, gave you a polite smile. He introduced himself as Martin and referred to Sam as Ms. Loomis and as you were in a phone call with her, she immediately confirmed to you that it was indeed your ride.

Relief washed over you, feeling secured enough with the whole get up. Especially with the case of brutal murder as of recently.

Arriving at the place, the door was opened for you and he mentions that he’ll be parked at the same place. The restaurant itself was one of the places you haven’t had a chance to visit yet, mostly because you didn’t feel zealous to spend a lot of money on a glorified casual meal. The ambience striked your interest immediately, the interior was cozy, and welcoming – especially for whatever they served, the aroma made your stomach rumble. 

Looking around, it was opposed to what you expected – there was no single sight of business suits hovering in the place. They were stuffy people in casual attire, maybe.

“You made it.” Sam stood up from her seat and your eyes fluttered at her beauty once again. Her floral scent was hypnotizing and covered your senses as she went for a hug. “How was your ride?”

“It was nice. I like your car,” you timidly say as Sam pulled a chair for you. 

“And I like your outfit. You look so beautiful, (y/n/n.)” Sam’s words were earnest and crimson quickly spread on your cheeks and rose up to your ears.

The stark contrast of her in formal attire with slick ponytail was apparent, yet equally so attractive. Sam stood in plain tight polo, baggy pants and some sneakers with her hair loose. She gave you a warm smile and her eyes also did a once over to your figure; you were dressed simply in a knitted zip top that hugged your torso, some trousers, and decent platform shoes. 

“Says you. You’re absolutely charming, it’s unfair.”

“Don’t start that with me, honey. We’ll be here all night arguing about that.”

Sam grinned at how you affectionately rolled your eyes at her quip. As you settled in and looked at the menu, you noticed the familiarity. It was on par with your tastebuds. She definitely remembered your type of crowd. You hid a smile with this information.

However, your joy was temporarily cut off as you noticed the server giving Sam the heart eyes as she took note of the order, although the latter paid no mind, swiftly reiterating your orders with her polite smile, it didn’t stop you from getting irrationally bothered on the inside.

You should have seen this coming. Surely, other people were bound to find Sam attractive as much as you do.

“Have you ever been here?” Sam eagerly questioned, her doe-eyes all on you. “I was nervous to pick a decent place, to be honest. I didn’t want it to be stuffy and stiff, but not too casual – only because I wasn’t so sure with your taste now, so I relied on my (y/n) senses.”

You were quick to nod off, “No. I was interested but I never had the chance.” a slow appreciative smile spread on your lips. “Your senses were right - don’t worry, Sam. They definitely serve the type of food I like. I hope you didn’t compromise that much for me." While you liked the thoughtfulness, you wanted Sam to have a good time as well.

“Well, that’s great! It means you can enjoy it with me that way. Don’t worry, based on their menu it seems appetizing for me, too.” her eyes lit up assuring you, and it was an adorable sight. She showed you another side of her again, reminiscent of how you remember her relaxed state and wasn’t as constricted from the gala held days earlier. “I have to ask.. is this setup okay with you? In case you’re… seeing someone.”

You’re surprised at her interest at your love life. Her attention remained fixated on you and it made you blink couple of times.

“Definitely not seeing any woman right now. Nothing recently.” you hint your preference, in case Sam hasn’t picked up on it yet even before. You haven’t come out back then. 

Sam smiled at your response. “That’s a relief. Means I won’t be breaking any faces any time soon.” your eyes widen at her words. “I’m kidding, (y/n/n). Or not.”

You nod along at Sam’s words with an unsure smile, not knowing what she exactly meant by that. You shrug it off as her odd humor. 

“What about you, any lucky person yet?” you asked, it was your chance to know more about her too.

A playful smirk was written on Sam’s features. 

“Funny thing is that it's the same case for me, I haven't gotten around it for uh, for some reason.” she ended sheepishly and shuffled a bit on her seat. “I could be eyeing on someone, who knows. But I have to be mysterious to you.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower. If you didn’t know any better, your delusions would think that she’s implying suggestively to you.

While her vague answer didn’t provide you what her type was, it was a relief for you to know that Sam is not off the market yet.

Both of your smiles barely wore off since then. Soon you were finally eating your go-to food and Sam with her chosen pasta. You debate whether you should finally ask Sam of her sudden disappearance, but you really didn’t want to spoil the mood either.

“Are you okay? Something wrong with your meal?” Sam leaned in to you and you quickly motioned no. 

“No, no. It’s just– I want to know, why did you have to leave?” you can’t help it but the hurt dripped on your tone. “It was so sudden and I haven’t heard from you since then… and now, you’re here again.”

You felt silly because it was a long time ago. Seeing Sam in flesh again gave you a whiplash, you valued her presence as she was your confidant during your hard times. If it weren’t for the gala, maybe you’d be left wondering until now, you’ll never know.

Warmth covered your hands, surprised that Sam has taken them to intertwine with hers.

“I can’t say the full details yet. But.. I’m here to stay. Believe me, honey. What happened then - it has something to do with my father. You knew how unstable things were at home, right? And I was expected to… step up into things at a faster pace than I can ever imagine,”

You only had a slight idea – if Sam before wasn’t very talkative and open – it was a thing that definitely remained until now. Sometimes their house was rowdy, full of men that wore notable sparkly ostentatious accessories. You only knew that his father’s job was demanding and that he was uptight, didn't want Sam to be out late, she had to sneak to parties, and was harsh with his words - even in front of you. It reflected the fear that glinted in Sam’s eyes when you were caught at their house, at the same beat, Sam also seemed to respect him. It was odd and the similarity of her tone was not lost on you but you didn’t push further.

You also wondered how Sam's sister, Tara, is doing and most likely all grown up now. 

“Is it enough for you right now?” Sam meekly asked you, hopeful glint in her eyes.

You mimic her playful smirk from earlier.

“Only if we get mint ice cream right after this and I’m paying.”

Sam let out a relieved sigh, leaning back to her seat and an easy going grin gracing her features once again. 

“Alright, whatever your heart desires, (y/n/n).”

::

After a wholesome reunion (or date?) the two of you were on a weird loop. At least for you. She was bearing gifts that weren’t so little at all – packages were being sent to your house, always coming with a handwritten note that said ‘reminded me of you’ with a scribbled wink, sometimes a heart, and seeing Sam became a part of your routine. It was all you looked forward to every week – seeing Sam – that your friends even asked whether you were dating someone as you appeared more occupied than ever.  

At this point, you have visited restaurants and stores you could only imagine. Sam mentioned that having to try delicacies with you was a terrific experience, she liked your honesty and fun quips of critique. Although it shifted to something you’d say – a bit odd. While she was warm and welcoming, she never stopped by at your house.

Although you weren’t going to lie, it made you curious. Disappointed, too. Was she embarrassed enough to avoid being seen dropping by in the eyes of the public, in an intimate way? Granted, there wasn’t anything intimate going on. 

Other than that, it dawned to you how tactile Sam was with conversations. It was always knowing something new and familiar, never delving into something deeper.

For her sweet quips, you remain confused whether it was flirty and intentional, after all, you didn’t think that Sam was to take interest in you romantically speaking. So, it was a challenge for yourself to not get any less flustered. Especially when you’re crushing over her.

::

"Hey, pretty girl. Wanna eat out tonight?" Sam smoothly asks you from the other line and you snorted at her forwardness.

You peer over your window at the kitchen before shutting the blinds. You didn’t know whether it was still the lingering paranoia you felt over the gruesome murders and the irrational fear that you could be next. 

What if they were watching you?

"Dunno Sam," you scratch your nape, debating your answer as you remembered the events happening outside. "Is it safe? A brutal death happened recently. And you know, honestly, Sam – it rattled me a little more than I thought it did."

"Is this about the CEO? Honey, I've told you that he was already in deep shit. his decisions have probably caused him to dig himself into a bigger mess unimaginable."

The lack of care in Sam’s tone surprised you a little. But your mind weighed in the facts; these were billionaires who fucked up, didn’t do anything good for the others, and put themselves in the wrong crowd. You give Sam credit for that similar thought as you assume.

"Okay, but still…"

You hear Sam cooing in sympathy. "If it helps, I have my men around. We’ll be safe. You’ll be safe with me, don't worry." she promises with conviction enough for you to believe her.

You hummed as you rethink your answer. You wanted to hang out with the woman you've been crushing over (again) and having an idea of how her bodyguard's in question are built, you feel yourself leaning more to saying yes. 

"I guess that helps yeah- you just had to be so damn convincing, didn't you?" Even if this was a call, you can already see the stupid grin that Sam has now. "Alright, I'm sold with that. I'll see you later, Loomis." you playfully sing-songed to which Sam giggled as you dropped the call.

::

“Let’s try something new today.” Sam said in her low voice and to your surprise she held the car door open for you in the passenger seat and you weren’t in the backseat this time.

“Don’t we always?” you refer to your eating escapades with her. 

To your shock, Sam went to the driver’s seat. 

She was the one driving for today?

“Nuh-uh. We’re going to my house.”

“What?”

You turn your head fast to face Sam with your expectant eyes; filled with surprise and excitement. After all, your brain was racking itself with much curiosity of what is going on with your friend slash crush’s personal life. When Sam caught the glee in your expression, her own eyes crinkled at the corners and muttered something about how adorable you are.

As you parked outside, you noticed familiar vehicles that tailed the one you and Sam were in. You only saw a few of them before, the men only looked at you out of politeness – as if their eyes weren’t around to linger – and they were more pliant with Sam. It instilled an idea that your friend was this much of a respected person.

“Don’t worry, they’re with us.” Sam informs you and you were shy of how evident you were glancing at the side and at the back. 

You took tentative steps inside her home, surprisingly it was bursting with colors. It was apparent that Sam liked the idea of experimenting when it comes to style, as her interior and decorations felt straight out of magazine.

In her living space, she offered for you to sit first. She looked messy this time – not as neat after work, her hair down again instead of the usual ponytail, which seemed unnatural for someone so polished for her professional state.

“This was all of a sudden, sorry. I can’t… I’m a shit host for tonight. I’m honestly not feeling well today. I can get someone to fetch our food, whatever you like, it’s on me mi quierida.”

“You could’ve postponed this thing that we have. I mean, I don’t mind.” Okay maybe that was a complete lie – but you didn’t want Sam to feel forced.

Sam tilted her head. “And risk depriving myself of not seeing you? I do mind that. More than you can imagine. I guess you could say that I selfishly wanted you all by myself tonight, regardless.”

You feel somersaults in your stomach – making you squirm at your seat. Before you can process her words further, your attention panned to Sam’s hands and grew alarmed as you saw a faint view of her knuckles were red, you figure it'll be bruising the next day. She tried to hide it a lot as soon as decent lighting was present. Sam discarded her silver watch and then removed the champagne from the bucket near her to submerged her closed fist as it contained ice. It clinked against the metal, and as seeing her face, her chestnut eyes kept fleeting over you – observing.

"What exactly were you doing anyway?" Amusement was in your tone, although concern crept in quickly. You didn't want Sam to be hurt in some fight club. Or any way, for that matter.

Sam beckons you, "Come here." she softly uttered. as you did, her free hand rested on your lower back. "I ran into a small inconvenience. I guess you can say that I handled it well." 

You snorted at her poor joke. A boyish smile spread on her pretty face.

"If you're joking with that shitty pun… I'll take your word for it, Loomis." You slid an arm around her neck, patting her shoulder affectionately. 

It was truly a gesture meant to be playful but it appeared that it became a cause to shift things between you two. The proximity made you hyper aware with your heartbeat pounding loudly by the minute. You can’t even look Sam in the eye, remaining frozen.

"Uh-huh. You should trust me with it, mi quierida. You know I always mean well.”

Sam smirked, as though she knew something you didn't. She was difficult to decipher at most times but you shrug it off, noting it as a part of her charm. It was her thing thenand apparently, until now. 

Case in point: her sneakily trailing her hand lower as they were, now resting on the slope of your ass. She grabbed you by its underside, feeling her fingers digging into the flesh. Knees growing weak at the contact, you barely stifle a gasp. It was surprising yet very welcomed and better than you imagined.

She rubbed her calloused hand back and forth on your back soothingly. "Stay... stay the night with me.'' Sam whispered as she nosed the crook of your neck, her breath against your skin spreading goosebumps.

It was an all-too familiar scene, however, Sam was bolder.

“Let me give you your present for tonight,” Sam husked out, her face moved to bite on your earlobe – her hands needy all over your body. “or… just say the word and I’ll stop,”

You were pulled in, moaning as you finally cracked through the tension. Both of you no longer teetering in friendly boundaries. It was hard not to – not when it was Sam you adored for a great chunk of your life and how her siren eyes were pierced onto yours. As Sam was nervous, you were simply stunned and returned the same feeling as you did.

"Okay,” you responded shakily yet you moved with an ounce of bravery, finally affirming your answer by grabbing Sam by the nape and lips crashing with much need, electrifying you.

Sam devoured you in her satin sheets until you were swollen, frazzled, and dripping. 

::

The next day, you discover that another case of murder has happened in your town. This was an odd occurrence, as while death is inevitable, it was surprising to hear more of them happening in a short period. More so, it was unusual to hear of a brutal case in your normally nonchaotic town.

Fear began to creep into you as your colleague mentioned it was another CEO yet, this time it was the woman whom you've also met from the gala – being there, meeting these people and hearing them as nothing but reported deaths now felt like a bad omen. It created quite the buzz in your workplace, after all it was one of your company's competitors, too.

Shiver ran down your spine; you couldn't be next, right? 

If you were to follow the pattern, it only suggests isolated killings of wealthy figures and you couldn't be any farther from that. You were another normal person who’s only trying to get by.

Then you remember Sam and the extra security she provides to you. All this time she had kept you safe and away from harm. You found solace over the thought, so you exhale and tried your best to let go of your worries.

::

In all honesty you were only expecting to pull connections that can land you higher positions that promised bits of grandiose escapades in between – all tied to your work during that gala – and you’re surprised that you landed in Sam instead, though in a much more compromising position that ignited your whole body for days. Sometimes you can’t even move due to soreness. More often, you burned and yearned for Sam’s touch. 

It’s like the woman imprinted on you.

Sam finally brought you to her actual place which was a good breaking point. As soon as you saw past the soaring entrance and the modern architecture that greeted your wide eyes. So far, it appeared that she was indeed the only one based on your frequent stays – only men in between casual and formal attires, some being her bodyguards and maids as well were around the area. 

You were surrounded by a lavish wardrobe that you can only dream of. You were amused that you share similar skin-care products as her when you first used her personal bathroom. It was a good coincidence, it made your stay-ins much more comfortable and efficient.

The spacious place felt intimidating to your bones as you walked around halls and doors after one another, although you’ve handled much more terrifying things that were specifically this she-devil.

It was a surprise to you how she can swoon you with her gentleness and barely any of that remains in the bedroom activities. She was absolutely rough and domineering.

She continues to take you to different places you’ve never been to before. Though, now they were private and more high-end properties. Today, Sam took you today to where you wouldn't normally get your sexy undergarments. 

It was sultry and inviting to the ladies. The assisting ladies were polite, kept a minimal distance, and didn’t blatantly stare unless their attention was called to. You and Sam came by fairly early, hence the lack of people, you assume. You were fascinated with the quality of the garters and fabrics that felt different on your fingertips. 

One of her men, Martin, stood by inside the store. Sam assured you that everything was fine, it’s only a precaution and more of a just-in-case business thing. She kissed you before you could ask anything else, effectively distracting you.

Finally having both of your picks, you were welcomed by another part of the area where the sconce's recessed light only added to the thrill that was covering the lavender hall of the boutique. It certainly made the atmosphere downright sinful and erotic. For a minute, you thought that maybe you can handle being Sam’s dirty secret. You felt so dizzy. Feverish. Needy.

Sam placed a final kiss to the side of your neck before she was gently ushering you to go, seeing the familiar look of hunger in her eyes as if she was controlling herself - it made you shiver with the same desire - then you went in to fit.

You nervously stood in front of the mirror, doing final touches on the laces. Sam insisted that she prefers seeing you fit the lingeries instead of her dropping them on your face out of nowhere – something you appreciated.

Slipping yourself into the intricate laces of the lingerie, you were unable to stop nitpicking on the blemishes and stretch marks that were on your skin and how apparent they were beyond this flimsy material that attempted to cover your intimate parts.

“Don’t forget to show them to me, alright?” Sam hollered from the other end.

You try to suck it up, being snapped out of your insecurities. “Wanna come in here?”

“No, come out here.”

In disbelief, you shook your head no even if Sam couldn’t see it. What did she mean by that?

“Are you crazy? There’s… there could be people out. Just come here,” you whisper-yell to Sam.

“There’s no one. We arrived early and just – trust me. It’s only me out here, seated, completely alone.”

You hesitantly move the curtain in the fitting room and step out. Indeed it was silent and no one was there just as Sam reassured. It helped that the room was actually just for the two of you. As you stood there, you felt so naked and raunchy, being were dressed in nothing but lingerie.

“What’s the verdict for this?”

Sam was manspreading on the emerald upholstered chair and you stood in between her legs, inquisitive. 

“Oh, baby.”

“How is it…?” you fiddle with the laces, not meeting her eyes.

Sam looks at you with her mouth agape. She didn't say much but surprise was written on her face. You cannot help but overthink still, as your skin wasn’t flawless nor ridiculously skinny like any other models that Sam surely had been entwined with at one point… or even now. 

“Hey, are you feeling okay, (y/n/n)?” Sam questions and taps on her thigh. “You aren’t comfortable with this one, are you?” she worriedly asks, her hands on your side, rubbing to soothe you. “Because you look so stunning to me, god,”

You refuse to meet Sam’s eyes, “I- I don’t think I look flattering at these. I’m no model, Sam. Surely you had better.” the distaste on your tone didn’t go unnoticed by the woman who frowned at your words.

Your insecurities began to gnaw in rapidly; what if Sam had other women on days you weren’t available? It made you sick to your stomach.

“What makes you think that? Oh, baby this is the best I’ve ever had.” Sam tugs you by your forearm and while you are teary eyed, she places a gentle kiss at the back of your hand. “I’m sorry if you felt forced to do this. You can take it off now if you want. If I’m being honest, I only thought of wanting to see you strip for me."

The explanation had put your mind at ease. It definitely gave you a sense of comfort that to some extent, you do matter to Sam.

“We could have thought of something else. I.. I’m just not feeling this, Sam, it doesn’t fit me. I’m sorry.”

Sam's heart sank at your words. You weren’t to blame at all. Soon, you felt her fingertips subtly tugging down your skimpy underwear to which you put your hand above hers, halting her movements.

"What – Sam, someone might see us," nervousness washes over your expression, you don't want to get caught in such a vulnerable state.

Sam only looked at you with her dilated eyes. "As if I'd let them see this. Trust me, we just have to be quick, princesa, because I can’t wait much longer.." her fingers smoothly went to hook her fingers under the garter of your underwear and moved to grab the base of the fabric. “Let me apologize to you in this way.” She gave it a pulling tug, your moan vibrating in the small space as it deliciously cupped your pussy lips. “You look so beautiful right now, (y/n/n).”

You barely stifle a moan from erupting out of your mouth and feel yourself drip with wetness.

“My pretty girl is getting turned on with a fucking wedgie? You’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?” Sam moistens her lips, “So pretty and all for me. You can’t be loud in here baby, I need you to stay quiet. Don’t want others to hear you moan.”

“Thought- there was no others,” you whimper at Sam who only smirked.

“But the assistants are outside. Can’t have them knowing you’re such a whore for me, hm? Now turn your back to me and look at your pretty reflection.”

Nodding your head profusely, you swallow the lump in your throat. It made Sam chuckle in delight, her eyes gleaming. She pulls up the fabric once again, you’re sure that a wet patch is now evidently staining it. She pokes it with the pad of her two fingers and brushes them back and forth, the friction bringing you pleasure.

She interrupts your reverie by halting her motions, unclasping the bra off you and the intricate straps – one your eyes lingered to – only you didn’t realize that Sam saw the dismay on your face, as though it didn’t fit you. It would be an understatement for Sam to say that she abhors seeing you treat yourself this way.

You observe her hooded eyes now full of desire as she looks up to you – it’s undeniable with how it matches her actions, feeling Sam’s thumb pressed then on your back muscle, letting go to run over her hands all over your torso. It’s soothing although given your position, you feel the want and her touch intoxicating you.

“Sam, please.” you begged, ass pushed to her direction with your posture bent over. 

She merely laughs and smacks her hand hard on your ass. The sound echoes in the dressing room. You hissed at how it stings.

Sam had always found your curious look so endearing. You always looked so ready for her to take, attentive, always so curious and beautiful.

She moves her hands agonizingly slow and sensual to your hip bones – brushing her thumb against them – to the skin right under the curve of your ass. You shriek out loud with eyes rolling back to your head, temporarily forgetting that you’re in a public place as Sam notches it up by squeezing you tenderly. 

Repeatedly.

“Look at the mirror, (y/n)” Sam sternly orders. You shudder with eyes wide, still not moving. “My little bunny is not dumb, aren’t you, my sweet thing? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You gulped audibly and a string of moans were pulled out of you as Sam kneaded your supple breasts pleasingly. Being bare while Sam was fully clothed made you uneasy. Looking at the mirror didn’t feel right - seeing yourself become this needy and you meet Sam’s eyes in the reflection. What was her point in doing this? You don’t know either how it intimidates you yet a tinge of excitement is unmistakably laced underneath your impression. While you weren’t new to her roughness, this was particularly still felt exhilarating to you. 

Lost in a haze of lust, the ambience changed within the store – it felt as though you were trapped in a heating chamber. It’s charged and so electrifying to be in a compromising position with Sam – while it was a secluded and high-end one that provided privacy, you hoped that no one barged in soon.

Sam left a kiss on your lower back and feeling her hot breath brush on your skin made you shiver run down your spine, snapping you out of your worries. 

“I’m going to need you to sit between my legs, (y/n/n). And I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers until you understand in your pretty head that you’re beautiful, hm?” Sam’s words echoed titillatingly on your whole body, your breath hitched and bothered.

Soon as you sat hesitantly onto the couch between her legs, Sam gripped it and opened it wide for you as she saw you squirming and shakily closing your legs. You saw yourself in the reflection - how bare you were. And all you can think about is Sam and how you’re about to soil the velvety seat. She tuts at your shyness and manoeuvres her hand, wrist curling as she glides one finger over your soaked slit, gasping at how you were already so wet – teasing you.

You sharply inhaled, chasing more of Sam’s touch. “Told you that I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror, baby. So don’t hide yourself. I’d like to keep you like this, so gorgeous and ready for me.”

Sam did it for you – adjusted her own thighs to accommodate your legs, placed them on top of hers and spread them for you to see how exactly you were dripping. The wetness trickled down the expanse of your inner thighs out of your folds. Sam had a wolfish grin, what you’d describe as predatory and hungry for you. Lolling your head back to Sam’s shoulder, you hear her grunt as she glides her fingers now directly to your folds, eventually entering inside of you.

The sloppy sounds of your wetness echoed in the room. It didn’t help that you felt Sam pressed the base of her palm against your pelvis as her curled fingers rammed madly inside of you. You were pouring out your arousal.

“Oh Sam, oh fuck– fuck, fuck!” heat rose on your belly, coming in waves. Sam responded by pressing kisses on your now sweaty face.

“Mm yeah? More?”

“Yes, yes… Please, Sam!”

You were lost in the haze of lust, driving you dizzy, as your pussy kept pounding with Sam’s rapid thrusts. A slew of guttural moans were out of your mouth – not even minding how loud you are now. You feel how your own core clenched and sucked the entirety of Sam’s fingers, taking a peek in the mirror proved it enough – it was a terrible decision for you.

“Open your eyes, come on now, my good girl. Don’t want you to miss out on how beautiful my sight is.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, you comply for Sam’s sake. She called you a good girl, after all. You kept bouncing on her slender and now thoroughly soaked fingers, your slick all over her pants and you saw how it trickled down to damp and darkened the very upholstered chair. Seeing yourself blushing and so fucking used, your pussy squeezed once again over Sam’s fingers and to both of your delight, her thumb pried and did circular motions to your clit.

The pleasure shot you straight in waves over your body and vibrated so deliciously. 

You meet Sam’s thrusts and as you bounced, you also saw how intently focused she was on your reflection.

“God, look at these tits,” Sam roughly squeezed the flesh, making them aggressively jiggle. “I fucking love having you like this baby. Aren’t you my good girl?” she hotly whispered to your reddened ear, giving your earlobe a bite.

Her other hand that supported you by the waist, crawled up to grab the very breasts that she verbally appreciated. 

“Come on, say it.” Sam gave it another squeeze – plenty that made you mewl – and tugged your perk nipple harshly. “and look at me as you do.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m.. I’m your good girl!”

“Mine only,” Sam growled and you felt her teeth sinking in the skin of your neck, biting and nipping. “Oh how I wanted you for so long, like this for me…”

You moan as you turn your head, not minding the awkward angle, not in this needy state of yours you did mind. Neither did Sam, who was visibly appeased with her pearly grin as you do – even more when you shifted your gaze to the mirror and this time, you actually stared at it. 

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your hand slithered to Sam’s nape, who was almost as breathless as you. You tried to keep a firm grip on her as you feel more lost in the pleasure.

“Yes, Oh… oh! Sam!”

You nod instantaneously making the woman smile even wider. Soon, Sam’s fingers were sloppy wet and rapidly applying pleasure on her pad and focused on your very clit. You couldn’t do anything but elicit more expressive moans and squelching noises that bounced through the room as Sam fucked you dumb. The coil in your stomach finally untangled, leaving you breathless.

You meekly look at your figure in the reflection once again. Your cum trickled down continuously, leaking out of your pulsating hole. Sam panted lowly in your ear and inserted her hand again, making you grab her inner wrist as you felt the oversensitivity. She hushed you to calm down and she was gently pumping. 

It was indeed a pretty sight.

The thick slick of your arousal and cum soon was on your lips, Sam prying it open. It wasn’t up for discussion – you didn’t hesitate either. You taste the bittersweetness coating your tongue and mixed with your saliva, eagerly sucking out of Sam’s fingers. She moaned at your enthusiasm, encouraged by this you sucked more of your remains out of it, your teeth grazing along and Sam pushed it deeper until you felt her slender fingers slightly poking at your throat. 

Once she was satisfied, she handled you differently by flipping your position so now you straddled her leg and faced Sam instead of the mirror. Her lips quickly made its way to give you open mouthed kisses to your sternum, to your neck, finally your mouth.

“You did so well, mi amor. And you were so pretty.” You shyly nodded at Sam’s praise. “Remember that, hm? Regardless of dressing like this – lingerie or not – I’ll look and appreciate you the same way.”

“Mm-hmm,” you lazily nodded and met Sam’s gaze.

After Sam helped you dress your clothes. While being fucked the lights out earlier was heavenly, the walking out of the fitting room was not pleasant at all. Your legs feel like jelly, you can barely walk properly without Sam’s tight support on your waist (you refused her offer of carrying you not wanting to be further embarrassed) but it helped that there weren’t any side glances from the assistants. 

Oh, heavens. You forgot that Martin was also waiting inside the boutique. Even if he remained mum, you couldn’t be any more humiliated today.

Sam pushed back her slightly tousled hair and you helped her smoothen the back of her clothing. As for her trousers, the damage has been done and it’s currently stained with your wetness. An odd sense of pride came at you because you did that.

Sam held the undergarments – even the one she destroyed and fucked you into and personally offered to place it inside of the provided bag and then handed her black card. 

“We’ll take the seat too, the green one in the fitting room. I’ll send someone to pick it up today.” she uttered in what you recognize as her professional voice, the lady simply smiled, replying with Yes, Ms. Loomis, as she agreed with no hesitation.

You hid your face in the crook of Sam’s neck and your cheeks burned. Sam only giggled at your shy reaction. She wrapped an arm around you and brushed your hair gently as she leaned closer to you.

::

“Come back ‘ere.” Sam lazily mutters, voice still raspy. She was still in bed which was such a miraculous sight. Not only because her godly body was exposed but the fact that she stayed in. Her arms were reaching out to you, caressing your bare lower back and eyes barely open. “It’s so cold, you know.”

You gave her a wistful smile. “And you do know that I’m out of clothes here, right? I also happen to have a place of my own, Sam.”

“You can always–”

“–borrow yours, yeah. I know, Sam. But I have to go. My work stuff isn’t here either.”

She sits up fully. “Okay, baby.” Sam replied dejectedly. You shake your head at how she’s acting like a kicked puppy and barely the same as an insatiable sex god from last night. “How about I drive you home? This is an inarguable offer, by the way.”

Sam gave you a pointed look and you can’t help but think if she’s tricking you – seducing you, almost. She’s unashamed with her nakedness and the way she crossed her arms, further made her biceps prominent, the mysterious scar across them, and her supple breasts gave you a mouthwatering view. You chose to ignore how your stomach fluttered at her use of endearment. The more time you spend with Sam, the more they slip out.

“Don’t talk business to me, Sam. You’re so annoying.” You turn back fully facing her with an impish disbelief, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. 

Sam looked at you with childish glee on her face. “Excuse me, you were the one who brought up work. I’m simply reminding you of what you are absolutely missing while I’m on leave for today, mi princesa.”

“Fine, fine. It's not my fault that I’m a corporate slave.”

“That’s why being with me is a good idea.” Sam insists with a kiss on your jugular notch. “Come on, I was planning to make your favorite dish. Maybe you can do it with me, what do you think?” 

“Very professional.” You sigh at Sam’s silliness unfolding in front of you. “You just know all the right words to say…”

She crawled her way to you, shutting you up by capturing your lips with soft ones. It was chaste and you felt her smile in between. Moments like this only tugged at your heartstrings. It deluded you that it was somehow coming home to your girlfriend, only to be shaken to the reality of you knowing it was an unlabeled limbo with an old friend. So you shift, initiating with much force this time, getting rough with how you were kissing Sam as though it was your last time. 

“Am I still annoying if I do… this?” You feel Sam’s calloused fingers smoothly trailing on your inner thighs, making you shiver. You throw your head back as you reeled to her touch. The familiar wetness reemerged on your core once again.

Before she could do anything else, her phone rang. Sam immediately went for it and barely a trace of her sweet disposition remained as she excused herself.

You blinked at her reaction, paying not much mind to it. Instead, you let your body relax in the softest mattress you’ve ever laid on and quickly, you’re pulled by the thoughts of Sam again, missing her already as you sprawl onto the bed, smelling the distinct coconut shampoo and addicting lotion that she uses and how it clung to the space you laid in. 

Half an hour had passed. Getting up, you look around where she could have been, only to find her out in one out of two living rooms, absorbed with the phone call she's in. It wasn’t your plan to eavesdrop but your heart sank soon as the words became much clearer to your ears. 

"Yes, I'm dropping by the strip club tonight... of course." 

Strip club… tonight? Her words came out in a hush, obviously Sam didn’t want to be heard or rather, caught. No wonder she has been insistent on you to stay this morning. 

You simply weren't Sam's fix for this evening.

With cautious steps, you retreat back to Sam's bedroom and with the disgust that brewed in, bile rising in your throat, you start dressing up.

"I thought we agreed that you're staying?" Sam raised her hands in confusion.

"Work couldn't wait, sorry. It’s bugging me the more I ignore it.”

Sam’s face fell immediately at your sudden change of mind. Your heart twinged a little, almost believing that it was genuine.

"Alright. Let me drive you home, (y/n/n)."

Your smile twitched as you hummed in agreement. Suspicion and confrontation will rise if you didn’t, and given what you just found out, you truly didn’t feel up for it.

"I'm bummed that you won't be cooking with me, just so you know. I'll make it alone - don't worry, it will be filled with love and care, a perfect fix as you get your reports done." Sam enthusiastically clasped her hands to you and it only made harder for you to stop the tears that were threatening to pour.

The way Sam took you in her grasp, arms loosely clung around your neck and the mesmerizing gaze she held was doing the opposite reaction. You felt repelled, uneasiness continued to flow through your mind. You've just heard her in the same beat a few minutes ago planning to go to not only a mere club to drink for fun - but a strip joint? Her intentions became even more confusing to you.

Your resolve was crumbling and it was becoming apparent when Sam leaned in for a hopeful kiss and you dodged it, her puckered lips hit the corner of your mouth instead. If she was baffled and had finally picked up your sour mood, you didn't see it as you continued to avoid her gaze.

The car ride was silent. It didn't even occur to you that Sam actually drove you home, but instead of filling the space with laughter and bickering over your taste in music, the two of you were met with an odd silence. You peer at the window throughout the ride, the silent turmoil grew inside of you at the backseat as the car drove on your way home. Eyes fluttering rapidly, you feel the waterworks coming in. Of course this was only a matter of time before it was confirmed to you that you weren’t only the one being fucked by Sam. 

You felt gross. The inkling worry that filled you previously turned out to be right. You just hated yourself for blindly trusting her and giving further meaning to her mistaken gentleness. 

::

Honestly, you did plan that to be your last time to see Sam.

At least temporarily, you wanted to avoid her. You kept making excuses about how you had a lot of work to do. You knew it was unrealistic to actually avoid her forever, not when you literally were tangled with her on her sheets for a couple of months already. Unless you were to flee the country, of course. The idea is slightly tempting. You consider it, albeit impractical, it’s one of your last resort of choices. 

You were used to her scent from her bedsheets to her clothes and to her sleepy self arguing that she is very much awake during your random movie nights, her voice – everything revolves around Sam now and you hated it.

It felt like you were a teenager again with a hopeless crush on the girl you’ve liked from afar for years.

Even as you pulled away from Sam, your brain was racking through heaps of what-if thoughts – were you ever enough? Why did she have to make you feel so special, leading you into this domestic bliss? She always made time. Besides the good, you witnessed her downs, the aggressiveness, how her indistinguishable job took a toll on her. All because she let you in. You wondered why she even thought of you as worthy as such, yet made you feel of being less than that, at the same time?

However, if there is a light to all of this domesticity you shared with Sam that gave you warmth, there were also a lot of questionable actions that she specifically kept on doing. She appeared hesitant with dropping you off to your house and insists that one of her drivers will do the honors instead – with the sex on the table, it made you feel disposable and cheap – or how sometimes hours after sex; you get a sleepy glimpse of Sam sneaking onto the balcony. The faint noises of her raised voice in her phone, doing god knows what – you were there, unaware if it was a conversation with another woman and maybe, just maybe, Samantha Loomis wasn't as heartfelt as you naively believed her to be.

As you expected she didn’t drop by at your house. Her little gifts and take outs from restaurants that you liked and visited with her continued to be sent every weekend. You didn’t know whether it was out of pity or a proper goodbye in her own terms, making your stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought.

Your friends weren’t any less worried even with your now constant appearances for hangouts and karaoke nights, they gently explained that your mind often fled elsewhere and your gloomy disposition was noticeable. It’s not that they were annoyed, your friends were concerned more than anything. So, you finally open up but not too much. You retell you were in this Friends with benefits recently and it ruined your sanity, for better or worse, all in vague descriptions. After all, you were sure that now Sam was more likely ashamed of being seen by you and wanted to keep her bachelorette status.

The chorus of oh sweetie in an understanding tone immediately came and when they hugged you, it worsened the longing you felt for Sam and how you have been entangled with her this whole time.

“It sucks how you can get roped into that so suddenly.” Jane, your friend, empathised. “does that count as a situationship – or whatever it is they call it nowadays?”

“Let’s call it friends with benefits for the sake of simplicity.” Margo, the colleague who ironically was one of the main reasons why you got into the gala and met Sam, nodded her head with no hesitation. “I don’t understand why it is that hard to communicate something simple as that. And getting her fix of pleasure in another place, too, Jesus Christ.”

“Feels a bit of a power trip to me. Based on what you’ve said, how she’s got a sexy mysterious vibe going on and while that sounds sexy in other ways, I can only imagine how it must’ve taken a toll on you, (y/n).” Jane adds with a forlorn expression on her face.

They were expressive with their opinions - you liked how your friends were very protective of you. They felt betrayed almost as much as you do soon as you mentioned that Sam was a friend of yours way back.

Although, you hated how there’s a lump in your throat and a part of you was ready to jump in Sam’s defense. Before you drown more in the thoughts of her, you decided to pour another shot. 

“Fuck that. Let’s drink to this,” your words come out slurred and your friends only follow suit.

Sam didn’t stop spamming you with messages. It was expected considering that she’s the most insistent person you have met yet. Still, you shrug her off, saying that you work overtime these days and you don’t feel like being a booty call for a while – or ever for her. But Sam’s resolve proved to be unwavering as she updated you about her thoughts and invites of coming back home; her words, not yours.

::

“You know, if you’re up for it, you should totally meet this girl. Most blunt person I’ve met yet, so.” Margo indiscreetly implies that it shouldn’t be as troublesome as your previous limbo was. “She’s also really hot. And just down for either something casual or serious, depends how you talk about it.”

“Margo, you know I don’t think–” you shake your head. Besides being full of what-ifs and considering that you might have a good time, your thoughts keep bouncing back to a specific Latina in your mind.

Your mind swirls, not knowing why it feels like a betrayal deep down.

“Just give it a chance.” Margo interrupts, firm with her stand. “One date. It’s also been almost two weeks since you’ve been moping. You know we don’t mind that but- I just wanted to tell you that the dating pool is full of choices. 

What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[tra1nchi]

*cough* slutty and maybe a little bit egocentric ftm reader that is a virgin, but he hides this and pretend that he isn't a virgin. His best friend found out that reader is hidding this and just decides to take out his virginity (degrading kink) (im fucking dirty lol) (i love your write btw)

Hnngh degradation,,MINORS DNI!!! Bttm ftm reader,, degradation,, spanking,, V card stealing,, size diff,,

He had known you since childhood,, you were never like this,, you were always so shy and meek,,needing his protection!! But ever since you both left school you've always been boasting about how large your body count is!!

He was growing tired of it,,he wanted to go back to the good old days when all you both ever talked about was nerdy shit!! But now since you were never popular growing up,,you were trying to be popular now!!

But there soon came a problem,,one of your high-school friends,,a popular jock that you had said you fucked came out and said,,you never touched him!! He knew you were lying to him,,

"Dude, I'm trying to watch the game..I really don't need to know how you fucked your co-worker.." He mutters under his breath,,shaking his head as you sat awfully close to him,,your pajama shorts riding up your thighs,,which he couldn't help but notice,,He soon went quiet,,maybe he could finally make you admit about how you were so blatantly lying to him about your V card,,

"Wait..so how did he touch you?" He drawls out,,turning to his side to place his hand on your soft skin!! He smile curls into a smirk as he watches you stutter out porn tropes,,you seemed to stumble over your words like you were lying on the spot!!!

Leaning over you,, effectively pining you to the couch!! He leans down whispering in your ear as his hand traces up to your stomach,,

"You're struggling..maybe we should recreate what he did to your hole hm?" He chuckles,,his hands grasping at your shorts to roughly pull them down,,ignoring your struggles as he places you over his lap!!

"How about first, one slap for each man you've fucked?" Your ass was so close to his hand,, your mind was in jumbles!! You couldn't remember how many men you've lied about to him!!! >□<

Your ass was red,, even his hand hurt from how many times his palm came in contact with your skin!! He titled his head in amusement as you hid your face in his thigh!!

"Aw, I'm not even half way done yet..you're such a desperate little thing" His hand rubs your hair before it moves back down,, slapping you until he's had enough!!!

"Such a disgusting boy, your pussy is so wet from just being spanked" His fingers rubbed up and down your folds,, snickering at your flushed face!!

When he had you on his lap,, his cock deep inside of your boy pussy,,his hands gripping tightly on your hips,, very likely to leave a bruise!!

"I know you're a virgin" Letting out a grunt as he feels you tighten around him "There you go, you lying brat..does pretending to be a slut make you horny?" He shakes his head as he slaps your inner thigh!!! >□<

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet.  Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs.  He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell.  Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property.  You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it.  You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you.  The man that came today, to trade with Paul.  He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat.  But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.  

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly.  “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that.  Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off.  You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power.  The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul.  “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away.  “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies.  Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade.  “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him.  “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together.  “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred.  “Sorry, pal— not for sale.  But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head.  “Her.  I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that.  “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance.  “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos.  He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others.  You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can.  We need to run.”

We.  He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you.  And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head.  “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.  

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering.  “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

~

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you.  Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.  

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind.  It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you.  It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building.  Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door.  You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that.  Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick.  It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you?  You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel.  But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that.  “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly.  “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright?  I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest.  Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it.  In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave.  And he still did.  Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard.  “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response.  You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.  

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of. 

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said.  “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright?  I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here.  You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own.  No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that.  You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers.  That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most.  Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else.  Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously.  “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.  

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me?  I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men.  Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little.  “Of course.  Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well. 

“You seem tired,” he noticed.  “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed.  “You hungry?  We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously.  You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return.  It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said.  “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise.  You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe.  That sounded nice.  Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

~

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it.  He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice.  You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you.  Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t.  Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!  

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again.  “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head.  “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued.  Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet.  He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then.  You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either.  You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it.  This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said.  “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him.  “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted.  “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him.  On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it.  But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide.  Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating.  And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either.  We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable.  “My sons,” he said quietly.  “Those are my sons.  Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically.  “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged.  “Everyone lost someone.  Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together.  “Yeah,” you agreed.  “They kinda look like you, in the pictures.  You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle.  It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that.  “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed.  Not too long ago.  Well… I guess a few months is a while ago.  But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there.  Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him.  “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing.  “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds.  Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented.  “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth.  He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed.  “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing.  “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no.  I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange.  Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad.  He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned.  It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that.  Of owning somebody.  And, um… that only happened twice.  Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly.  “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again.  I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you.  “No, it’s fine.  I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else.  Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe.  You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again.  When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

~

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection.  “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head.  He sighed.  “Alright, well, you should learn.  Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied.  “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that.  “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them.  And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you.  You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out.  Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded.  Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling.  You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you.  But up there?  You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone.  You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance.  Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine.  “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.  

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned.  “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.  

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked.  “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back.  “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively.  “The rifle— you can’t shoot that.  That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it.  And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

~

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes.  But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was.  Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often.  And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold.  You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement.  That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away.  Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.  

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.  

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed.  “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes.  Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.  

It had been a long time since someone held you like this.  You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you.  But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection.  You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot.  “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted.  “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped.  "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.  

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you.  There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off.  Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much.  But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.  

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.  

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came.  And if he did, what had he been thinking of?  He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you.  If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you.  Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing.  You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him.  Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it.  Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate.  He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted.  Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.  

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down.  Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind.  But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

~

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too.  He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway.  It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him.  And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization.  There’s nothing wrong with it, right?  Just being here, helping how you can?  But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative.  It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all.  He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him.  You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond.  It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall.  It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual.  Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it.  You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually.  Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could.  You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.  

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been.  But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took.  You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals, 

Not everything was perfect then.  Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with.  Someone to trust.  You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right?  Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes.  Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain.  He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you.  It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it.  Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself.  And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk.  You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods.  You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.  

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes.  Align the sights.  Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.  

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar.  When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck!  Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm.  “Oh my god!  I’m so sorry— oh my god!  Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there.  Why didn’t you tell me it was you?  Why didn’t you say something?  But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already.  “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice.  “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods.  Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

~

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting.  But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this.  “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.  

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life.  “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped.  “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll.  “Of course,” you breathed.  “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again.  “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him.  You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it.  You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky.  “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little.  “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough.  Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back.  “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said.  “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage.  You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet.  “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged.  “It was— sometimes.  It was quiet, I’ll tell you that.  All I wanted was to escape, back then.  Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little.  “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that.  I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement.  “Yeah, I get that.  But then how’d you end up in the suburbs?  Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened.  I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed.  “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left.  As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself.  Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words.  “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody.  I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking.  Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly.  You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head. 

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways.  “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank.  “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid.  I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case?  A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head.  “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property.  That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch.  You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else.  “You treat me like a child!  Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me!  I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you?  Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too.  “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed.  “How long were you there before I heard you?  Come on, Emmett— look at me.  Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him.  “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.  

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed.  “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots.  He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly.  “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd.  “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone.  I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile.  “I guess I still need someone.  I need you.  And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again.  You shivered, just like you thought you would.  “Say it again,” he requested flatly.  It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face.  “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled.  “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest.  Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to.  Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier.  Hungrier.  Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt.  He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud.  “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that.  “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you.  Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him.  Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin.  How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that?  “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.  

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up.  He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you.  “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt.  He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you.  Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once.  It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment.  “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that.  It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight.  “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all.  Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room.  “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep.  It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more.  Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits.  You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple.  “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted.  “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop.  He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was.  “Emmett!” you nearly screamed.  “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual.  “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this.  “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said.  Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it.  Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something.  You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.  

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it.  It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it.  He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you.  “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close.  "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name.  "Emmett, I love you.  I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.  

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly.  "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it.  You could feel it just in the way he held you. 

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you.  Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in.  You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.  

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound.  “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly.  “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way.  All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier.  You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out.  “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan.  “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl?  Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving.  But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper.  "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again.  You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you.  You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done.  “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted.  “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley.  You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss.  “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes.  “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be.  ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly.  “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage.  “And we have some time to make up for.  God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in.  “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.