#“lightly dipped” alright mark

[unreesonable]

Quote from Mark Gatiss talking to the Radio Times to promote An Adventure in Space and Time. The video above (from Sleep No More BTS) shows the impression Mark is talking about.

[nerdlvr]

✩ tired? just a little.

(MDNI)

smut , mark lee x reader , established relationship , lazy sex , mark is in a suit , reader is like a stay at home girlfriend , riding/cowgirl , couch sex , marks a little bossy , lots of pet names , no condom , creampie , cumming quickly , requested here! , lmk if i missed anything

"hey beautiful, you waited for me?" the door clicked softly behind him, the soft jingle of his keys making your eyes flutter open.

you stretched you arms up, a loud whine leaving your lips, "missed you markie."

he chuckled softly as he shuffled towards you, hands tugging at the knot of his tie, "missed you more angel."

you tilted your head back on the couch to look at the tall man behind you, his eyes swollen with exhaustion.

he still managed to smile widely as he looked down at you, his hands coming down to hold your face, "thought about you all day."

he leaned down slowly, lips softly pressing against yours in a kiss.

you couldn't help the giggles that escaped you lips, his nose tickling the bottom of your chin as he pressed into you harder.

"what's wrong?" he leaned back slightly to stare at your upside down face.

you grinned wide, bringing a hand up to scratch your chin, "tickles."

he chuckled softly, crouching slightly to plant a kiss on your forehead, "silly girl- i'm gonna go get changed."

you reached for his arm as he turned away, tugging slightly to pull him towards you, "let me help you?"

he walked around the couch, sitting on the soft cushions with a low grunt, his legs spreading slightly as he leaned back, "alright then, help me undress- go on baby."

you shuffled onto your knees, leaning forward quickly to work on his tie. your fingers were quick, undoing the knot almost out of habit from many of his tired nights.

he moved his hands up to pull his loose tie off, your focus now on the small buttons on his shirt. you fumbled against his ironed top, your freshly done nails clashing against the buttons.

"let me-" he quickly undid his buttons, resting his arms back on the couch as he let you continue.

you blushed slightly, his chest now on full display as you pulled his tucked shirt out of his slacks.

his breath hitched as your hands reached for his belt, your soft hands lightly grazing his bulge as you worked against the buckle.

the image of you was borderline pornographic, your ass poked out, wiggling gently as your breasts rested on his thigh lazily, your hands pulling at his belt.

he reached his hand forward, sliding it along the length of you spine, watching as you shivered softly, a quiet breath leaving your lips, "mark-"

"keep going baby- you're not done yet." his hand moved further down your body to rub against your ass, sneakily running them under your tiny pajama shorts.

your breath was shaky as you dropped his belt to the floor, your hands moving instinctively towards the button of his pants, "oh my-" you pressed yourself deeper against his lap, moving your ass against his hand as you felt his fingers dip past your panties.

"need you to ride me princess- you like the sound of that hm?"

your whine was enough of a response, his hands moving away from your core to help you undo his pants instead.

you leaned back on your knees as you watched him unzip his pants, lazily tugging them down only enough to release his aching length.

"be good and sit on it."

he chuckled as you scrambled to get on top of him, too impatient to take your shorts off. you reached down to pull the fabric to the side, your core already wet from his light touches.

you pressed your entrance against the tip of his length, both of you moaning softly as you sunk down.

"o-oh mark." your head fell against his shoulder as you bottomed out, soft gasps leaving your lips as you rocked against him slightly.

he let out a loud groan, head dropping back against the couch as he let his eyes fall shut, "fuckk- ride this dick angel- come on-"

you lifted your hips slightly, only to press your hips back against his quickly. "m-mnh- feels so good- ah." you leaned forward, resting your weight on your knees as you held onto his shoulders for support.

you lifted your hips, starting a slow bouncing motion against his length. he was deep inside of you, his length sliding against your warm walls as you rode him languidly.

he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes dark as he watched your flushed face, your lip pulled tightly in between your teeth.

"just like that mama, riding me so good- keep going- i got you-" his hands moved down to grab your ass, guiding you slowly against his cock.

"m-mark, 'm gonna cum baby." you ducked your head, blushing in embarrassment as your soft pants warmed his chest.

"so soon? like me that much hm?" he grinned lazily as you nodded, soft whines leaving your lips as you began to rock your hips messily.

"it's okay baby- easyy- let go for me-"

you bit your lip harder to hide your pathetic moans, you eyes squeezing shut as your hips stilled against his, your body twitching softly as you came undone.

"m-mark-" you let out a breath as you sunk back down onto him, your core clenching tightly around him.

"stay still- let me fuck you-" he gripped onto your waist, lifting you slightly before bringing his hips up to meet yours.

you moaned softly, hands gripping the back of the couch as you remained steady, letting him use you as he pleased.

"f-fuck keep squeezing me like that baby- gonna cum in this tight little pussy-" he groaned against your neck, his hips rutting against your quickly as he chased his own orgasm.

"mark want you so bad- please-" you gasped softly as you felt him spill into you, his fingers bruising the skin of your waist as he pressed you flush against his hips.

"fu-fuckk baby-" he melted into the couch, hips stuttering against yours as you lifted your hips slightly to release him.

he was quick to stop you, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place, "d-don't go- i'm- i'm gonna faint- just let me-"

you giggled as you relaxed back into his lap, his length growing soft inside of you as you laid your head on his shoulder, "ten minute power nap before we shower?"

his voice was low, eyes already fluttering shut, "deal."

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Self Fulfilling Prophecy

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader

Summary: Potters love like it's a sport, but it seems that only a Black can challenge that.

WC: 3.6k

CW: Sexual leaning scene, Hurt Comfort right back to Hurt, background Jegulily, Alphard Black the gay.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is Sirius’s arm draped lazily over your waist, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns along your bare skin. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the room, turning the tousled sheets into a hazy, dreamlike mess. The scent of Sirius- smoke, cedar, and something warmer, more distinctly him- lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a second blanket.

You shift slightly, careful not to disturb the warmth around you, and feel Sirius stir behind you. His breath brushes against the back of your neck, followed by the low rumble of his voice, thick with sleep. "Morning, trouble."

A smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it. “Morning,” You mumble, voice soft and still tinged with the haze of sleep.

Sirius leaned up on his elbow, the lazy grin he always wore stretched across his face. His fingers ghosted over the faint marks he had left along your neck, brushing over them like they’re something sacred. “Look at you,” His voice dipped lower. “A proper masterpiece. I should frame you.”

You swat at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Oh, I mean it,” Sirius smirked as he dodged your half-hearted attack. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoyed last night more than you’re letting on.”

Your fingers twitch against the sheets, and you fight the urge to glance at him again. You lose. He’s already watching you, that teasing gleam in his grey eyes, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. And damn him, he probably does. Your eyes flick down, and that’s when you notice the marks on his chest- red scratches trailing down his sides, love bites peppered along his collarbone. 

Your cheeks burned hotter.

Sirius noticed. Of course he does. He leaned in, his grin downright smug. “Admiring your handiwork, love?”

“I’m admiring the fact that you didn’t fall apart under pressure,” Your words were quick but locked any real bite.

“Oh, I definitely fell apart,” He murmured, his voice low and dangerously smooth, like silk sliding over bare skin. He trailed a hand down your back, pulling you just a little closer. “You made it easy.”

You laughed, soft and genuine, before gently pushing his hand away and sitting up. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” you said lightly, brushing a hand through your hair as you swung your legs off the bed. The warmth of the morning fades slightly as your feet hit the cool floor.

Sirius lets out a dramatic groan behind you, flopping onto his back like you’ve just delivered a mortal wound. “What, you’re leaving already? I thought we’d at least have breakfast. Maybe share a cigarette. Do that thing where you call me insufferable and I remind you you’re madly in love with me.”

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got a hell of a memory for something that didn’t happen.”

“Oh, but it will,” He ran his fingers through his hair, propping himself up on an elbow, his grin widened. “Mark my words, love. You’ll miss me by lunch. Or sooner.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you gather your clothes. “Whatever you say, Pads.”

“Mm, you kept a keen ear for what I said last night.” He teased in that insufferable song of his, watching you with an infuriatingly casual air as you pull on your shirt. “But you’re leaving in my favorite shirt, which means I’ll have to track you down to get it back. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You glanced down, realizing you are indeed wearing one of his threadbare band tees, and roll your eyes. “Consider it compensation. For the rabid assault one my neck I endured.”

“Oh, you wound me,” He sighed dramatically, rolling out of bed. “Stealing my shirt, leaving me all alone… You’re really a heartbreaker, trouble.”

Despite yourself, you laughed, slipping on your shoes and brushing your hair out of your face. Sirius was already pulling on his trousers, looking every bit the disheveled rogue he prides himself on. By the time you’ve straightened yourself up, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that lopsided grin that always makes you feel like he’s up to something.

“Need anything before you go?” He prodded, his tone light, almost mockingly polite. “Coffee? Another round of ego-boosting compliments? My eternal devotion?”

You shook your head, smirking. “I’m good, thanks. And as for your eternal devotion, I think James called dibs on that.”

Sirius chuckled, following you to the door. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t wear my shirts nearly as well as you do. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Pads,” You smirked, turning to look at him as you pulled the door open.

He stepped closer, brushing a lock of hair out of your face with a lazy affection that feels almost second nature. Before you said anything, he kissed you- not desperate or heavy, just Sirius, soft and familiar, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When he pulled back, he grinned and muttered, “I love you,” that same way he always has, like it’s just another part of his vocabulary.

You smile faintly, choosing to ignore it. As you always have. “See you around, Siri.”

“Mhm,” He smiled easily, leaning against the doorframe as you step outside. “And don’t think for a second you’re keeping that shirt.”

You toss him a smirk over your shoulder. “Guess you’ll have to come and get it.”

Sirius stays in the doorway, watching you until you disappear around the corner. Whispering a soft curse as he watched you turn the corner.

~~~

In every single universe, a Potter falls for a Black.

And in every single universe, it didn't end well.

You knew it better than most. From the look in your brother's eyes in his seventh year, when you found him crying in the common room. He confessed to you then, about him. About Lily. About Regulus. 

You would say you were surprised to learn about what those three had been up to together, but it only reinforced your firm belief in this messy web you were born into. 

It was like a self fulfilling prophecy. Just a year earlier, you sat with your father in the kitchen, listening to stories about him and a young Alphard Black. He didn't have to tell you what he meant to him, you could see it. In the way he looked at the photo book- in the way he looked after Sirius.

Potters and Blacks would find each other in every reality, in every universe, in every bloody cliche. And every single time, it would end with someone shattered.  

For your father, it ended with Alphard estranged and lost to time- the only true family he had left going to seek refuge in the arms of the man he once loved- their love buried under the weight of duty and expectations. For James, it ended with Regulus’s name carved into a cold, unforgiving wall in the Department of Mysteries, a ghost of what could have been.  

And for you…  

You weren’t sure yet.  

You closed your eyes briefly, the crisp morning air biting at your cheeks as you walked further from Sirius’s flat. The weight of his kiss, his touch, lingered like a brand. It wasn’t fair how easily he could pull you back in, how effortlessly he made you forget the countless reasons why this wasn’t supposed to happen.  

It’ll end the same way it always does, You reminded yourself. Sirius might love endlessly, recklessly, but love alone had never been enough for the Potters and the Blacks. You knew this was temporary, just another bright, fleeting moment in a cycle destined to burn out.  

But Sirius wasn’t like your father, wasn’t like James. His love wasn’t something quiet and tragic- it was loud, defiant, impossible to ignore. He loved you like he was daring the universe to try and stop him.  

What terrified you more than anything was the universe usually had the last laugh.

You reminded him every time you slipped into his bed. That it wasn't love, it wasn't more than this. 

And every single time he just smiled, as if he knew something you didn’t.  

Sirius Black never argued when you said it wasn’t love. He never fought when you insisted it was just a fleeting thing, something to pass the time, a distraction from the war, from the scars it left on both of you. He let you tell yourself that, let you believe it, but the look in his eyes always betrayed him.  

Because Sirius loved with the kind of intensity that burned everything else away, and no matter how many times you told him this wasn’t forever, he never stopped looking at you like you were.  

“Whatever you need me to be, love,” He'd whisper, his voice soft but steady, as if daring you to test the limits of his patience.  

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Sirius never played by the universe’s rules. He’d already broken them a hundred times over- leaving the Black family, choosing James and the Marauders, standing on the side of a war that could have killed him. What was one more rebellion, one more forbidden love? 

But you weren’t Sirius. You didn’t have his boundless courage or his endless defiance. You couldn’t throw yourself into love with the same reckless abandon, couldn’t let yourself believe that this time, it would be different.  

So every time you left his bed, every time you pulled on one of his shirts and walked out the door, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself it was better this way- better to keep things simple, fleeting, to leave before it got too real.  

And every time, Sirius just let you go, leaning casually against the doorframe, a half-smirk on his lips that never quite reached his eyes.  

~~~

You hadn't seen Sirius since that morning. Not like you were trying particularly hard, he had The Order and you had your Auror work to busy yourself with. The next time you did see him, you were scared half to death.

The panic in James’s voice is what froze your blood. He didn't explain much over the Floo- just a frantic “Sirius is hurt. You need to come. Now.”

You didn't hesitate, heart in your throat as you grabbed your wand and Apparated to the safe house. The spinning sensation barely registered as you landed in the living room, your eyes immediately darting around for Sirius.  

Instead, you saw James pacing furiously, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself. Lily sat nearby, trying to calm him.  

“He’s going to be fine, James,” Her tone was soft- soothing but almost tired.  

James didn't respond, just kept pacing, his jaw tight. Across the room, Remus and Peter were talking in low voices, but you can’t hear them over the rush of blood in your ears.  

“Where is he?” You hissed- but not out of anger- it was the only tone you could take without letting the tears in your eyes spill over.

James finally stopped, turning to you with an expression that’s equal parts relief and frustration. “He’s in the other room. He took a hit, but Remus patched him up. I told him to stay in bed, but of course, he-”

Before James can finish, the door to the kitchen creaked open, and there he was.  

Sirius Black.  

Alive, upright, and grinning like he hasn’t just shaved years off your life.  

He was shirtless, a fresh bandage wrapped diagonally across his chest, and his hair is a wild mess, but he looked fine. More than fine, in fact, because he immediately started to crack a joke.  

“See, James? Told you I’d have the most dramatic scar story at the pub.” He traced the lining of the bandages with a chuckle. “Birds love scars.”

The room collectively groaned, but not you. You couldn't seem to move, standing frozen as relief crashed over you in waves so strong it almost buckled your knees.  

He noticed you then, his grin softening as his grey eyes locked onto yours.  

“Hey, trouble,” He whispered, as casual as ever.  

You didn't think. You didn't process. You just moved.  

In three quick strides, you were in front of him, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as if to confirm he was really there. And then, before you could stop yourself, you kissed him.

It was hard and desperate, your lips pressed against his with all the relief, fear, and love you’ve been holding back for years. Sirius froze for a fraction of a second before he melted into you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck and his other slipping around your waist, as he deepened the kiss.  

Sirius pulled back slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his grey eyes searched your face. His hand is still cradling the back of your neck, his thumb brushing small, calming circles into your skin. He looks completely love-struck, his lips quirked into a soft smile as he takes in your tear-filled eyes.

“Don’t cry, love,” He murmured, his voice low and tender. “I’m here. Still breathing, still kicking. It’s going to take more than that to get rid of me.”

You shook your head, your hands fisted in the fabric of his trousers. You tugged him closer, as if the space between you had personally offended you; hardly able to whisper “You scared the hell out of me, Sirius. I thought- I thought-”

Your voice cracked, and Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I’m sorry,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m sorry, trouble.”

“That's not fair.” You practically croaked, leaning closer to brush your own kiss against his lips. He smiled into it, no matter how careful and quick it was. Your voice hitched at the end, as if this was all some scheme, trying to get you to understand- maybe pity the poor fool before it was too late. “You're not playing fair.”

Sirius's smile widened slightly, soft and crooked, the kind of smile that could pull you under if you weren’t careful. His thumb continued to trace gentle circles against your neck, grounding you, tethering you to him. He tilted his head, his voice low and teasing, but the affection in his gaze betrayed him. 

“When have I ever played fair, love?” He murmured, the words brushing against your lips. “You should know by now, I don’t give up.”

You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath as tears welled in your eyes again. “You make it impossible, Sirius. You make it so damn hard to stay away.”

“Good,” He hissed softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. “Because I don’t want you to stay away. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. Just… don’t walk away from me, alright?”

Your breath hitched as Sirius’s thumb brushed away a tear rolling down your cheek. His grey eyes softened as he tilted his head, his expression warm and teasing, but his voice tinged with sincerity. 

“I hate you,” You whispered, your voice barely audible and cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

“Yeah?” He murmured, his lips quirking upward, a hint of mischief in his grin.  

“I hate you so much, Siri,” You echoed, though the words lacked venom.  

“Do you, now?” Sirius teased gently, his voice soft as he slowly cradled your face in his hands. His thumbs traced light, soothing patterns along your jawline, grounding you.  

And then he kissed you- soft and slow, like he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t desperate or frantic. It was Sirius: steady, deliberate, and impossibly tender. You felt your knees weaken as you melted into him, his warmth washing over you like a balm to the panic still lingering in your chest.  

For a moment, it was just you and him, the rest of the world fading into the background. But then-

“Ahem,” Someone cleared their throat loudly, shattering the fragile bubble. You had to remind yourself you couldn't rim anyone up by their neck today- especially after the show you just put on.

You jumped back slightly, your cheeks burning as you turned to see James standing there, arms crossed, his eyebrows raised so high they were practically disappearing into his hairline.  

“Well,” James said slowly, his voice dripping with disbelief and barely concealed amusement. “This certainly explains a lot.”

“Oh, bugger off, James,” Sirius drawled, not even bothering to let go of your waist as he smirked at his best friend.  

James let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, gesturing between the two of you. “How long has this been going on? And why am I only just finding out now?”  

You buried your face in your hands, your mortification complete. “This is not how I wanted you to find out,” You mumbled.  

Sirius, of course, was utterly unbothered. “Well, Prongs, in all fairness- I just found out myself.”

Okay, that one did earn retaliation. 

You quickly hit his side and he gave a sound of dramatic pain, leaning down to steal another kiss as if that was punishment enough for your abuse. 

James let out another sharp laugh, his hands on his hips now as he surveyed the scene. “Oh, you just found out, did you, Pads? That’s rich, considering the way you’ve been looking at her for years. And the rest of us have had to sit through it without saying a word.”

Lily peaked from around James, arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. “To be fair, I think Remus had a bet going on how long it would take for this exact situation to happen.”

Remus smirked at you, looking thoroughly unimpressed but clearly amused. “I did, actually. I’m collecting later.” 

“Remus!” You snapped, turning your mortified glare on him, though Sirius’s arms around your waist kept you rooted firmly in place. “You’re supposed to be the sensible one!”

“Oh, come on,” Remus replied, deadpan. “You’re lucky it wasn’t Peter. He was ready to start taking notes.”

Peter peeked out from behind Remus, his cheeks flushed but a sheepish grin on his face. “I thought it might help with… er, strategy. You know, for later.”

“Later?” Sirius grinned, ever the opportunist. “What, Pete, you planning to steal her away from me?”

“Godric, no!” Peter blurted, his hands shooting up defensively. “I’d never- she’s- you two- no!”

James threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders, laughing. “Relax, Pete. You’re not stepping on Pads’ toes anytime soon.” He turned his gaze back to you and Sirius, his expression softening just enough to let you know he was, despite his theatrics, happy for you. “You’re lucky he’s absolutely gone for you,” James muttered, the barest hint of fondness in his tone. “Otherwise, I might have had to step in.”

Sirius smirked, squeezing your waist with unmistakable pride. “Don’t worry, Prongs. She’s stuck with me now.”

You let out a groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You are all insufferable.”

Lily stepped forward, shaking her head with a grin as she took James’s hand. “Come on, James. Let’s leave them alone before Sirius starts waxing poetic.”

“Too late!” Sirius quipped, and before anyone could stop him, he pulled you closer and began reciting dramatically, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day-”

“Pads!” You hissed, trying to stifle a laugh as the others groaned and began filing out, muttering about needing stronger drinks to survive the two of you.  

When the door finally closed behind them, you looked back at Sirius, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re insane.”

Sirius tilted his head, his gray eyes dancing with affection as he grinned down at you. “So, does this mean we’re official now, or do I still need to charm you with my devilish wit and roguish good looks?”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you tried to shake off the lingering warmth from his teasing. “Oh, Merlin, don’t push it, Black. I already have James to deal with. I don’t need you adding fuel to the fire.”

Sirius feigned offense, clutching his chest where the bandages wrapped tightly around him. “I’m wounded! You’re only agreeing to this to keep Prongs happy? I thought I was irresistible.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the hallway table. “You? Irresistible? That’s a stretch. I just don’t want to disappoint James- his fragile heart couldn’t take it if I broke yours.”

He stepped closer, closing the small distance between you with that stupid, lopsided grin still plastered on his face. His hands found your waist again, holding you firmly yet gently, like you might slip away if he didn’t. “Admit it, love,” He murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug. “You’d hate to disappoint me, too.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe.” Sirius leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, “Terrible, flea ridden, bug eyed, everything you could possibly think of- it's bloody maddening when all I want is to be yours.”

You sighed, shaking your head but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You are Sirius.”

“Good.” He kissed you again, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping into something quieter, more sincere. “Because I don’t care what anyone else says or bets on. I’ve been yours for a long time, and I’m not letting go.”

Your heart skipped at his words, but you played it off with a scoff, lightly smacking his arm. “You’re such a sap, Black.”

“And you love it,” He teased, his grin wide and carefree as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. Because deep down, you knew you’d already lost the battle you’d been fighting for years. The love you carried for him had consumed you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but him.

And so, you stopped fighting it. For years, you let that love pull you under, let it fill the cracks and scars you thought you’d buried too deep. It became part of you- wild, consuming, unrelenting.

Because in every single universe, a Potter falls for a Black.

And as you were reminded that October, as the leaves fell and the air grew colder, in every single universe, it doesn’t end well.

[iceonneo]

autopilot ; l.jn

jeno x fem! reader request : here. warnings : [ smut ] curse words, p in v, married status, riding, fingering (f! receiving) oral (m! receiving), mentions of pregnancy, unprotected, use of names, !! mdni ¡¡

maybe babysitting his nephew along with you wasn't the best idea ever.

he watched you from afar as you bombed the little boy in your arms with kisses. the child and your laughter mingled together bouncing against his ears melodiously.

something about you with a child awakened something in him. a sweet wish to want to build a family with you was always at the back of jeno's head, constantly. but to see it in a way indirectly as this almost made him want to start working on his wish right away.

after bidding his cousins a hearty goodbye, jeno's eyes were glued to your figure as you entered the house. "walk quicker, you oldie." you booed at his face as he neared you with a chuckle.

his back shutting the door as his hands slid around your hips. "oldie?"

"mhm," you giggled lightly looking up at him. "if-" your sentence cut short as a shrill call ringtone disrupted your moment.

"jen, I gotta get that." you said to him as he refused to let go of you. "get it then."

he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, hooking himself closer to you as you huffed loudly, "you're just a big baby i swear."

after heftily dragging yourself along with your husband a few steps further you reached the couch. the back of your knees hitting the edge as you fell back against the material, jeno right on top of you.

before he could drop his usual invite to get freaky tonight, he looked up at you only to see you on the phone already, soft hums escalating off your lips as you attentively listened to the opposite line.

"ofcourse you can haechan."

the mention of your closest friend leaving your mouth making jeno perk up frowning. he lowkey held a grudge with the dude. haechan was just a friend, he trusted you with that, sure.

but when he decided to crash very frequently at your place jeno couldn't help but feel irked. his intrusive thoughts begging him to throw his ass out of the house so he could get time alone with his wife without worrying about some haechan who was stuck to you like gorilla glue.

"you'll be here in an hour? that's alright."

jeno emphasized his frown as a question to which you signaled him to wait for a few minutes. jeno sulked, dropping his head onto your stomach. his hands soon enough reaching the hem of your knitwear as he pulled the fabric over his head.

the action making you yelp slightly, soon enough replacing it with a wide grin on your lips. his round head was sticking out of your shirt as he blinked at you. you suppressed a giggle, pushing your arm under your top to caress his back.

you closed your eyes, absent mindedly listening to haechan ramble about how he destroyed yet another karen at work today. the emphasis and extraordinary vocabulary he used in his speech making you laugh occasionally, but that only reduced the gap between jeno's brows as he watched you.

without notice, his fingers fumbled with your top button until it undid. his eyes sparkled and lips rose by the side as he unbuttoned your top. you only realized when the sudden cool air hit your body. your eyes snapped open as you took a double take at yourself. sweater flapped to the side leaving you in your bra. a hysterical expression fixated over your features, looking at the boy questionably.

jeno only smiled sillily as he stuck his finger to his lips, mouthing a shhh as he motioned over to the call.

you gulped rolling your eyes, refocusing on the conversation, trying to pick up which mischief haechan was upto now.

your eyes twitched close once you felt jeno's palms slide over you waist. his lips slowly kissed your neck which was replaced by his tongue as he sloppily left dark marks. his teeth nipped the area softy before pulling back to take a good look.

missing the feeling of his mouth on your body already, you felt a shiver run down your spin when he unhooked your bra. you finally snap your eyes open before scrambling to sit up with your phone gripped tightly. the knitwear and loose bra falling off your shoulders onto the couch as you do so. jeno sucked a breath in sitting opposite to you.

"u-uh haech! i gotta go, let me know when you arri-vf!" your words scattered as jeno engulfs your tits into his warm mouth. his inviting toungue swirling around the nub as he looks up at you through his lashes.

ignoring the uproar of haechan who claims he was about to get to the best part, you drop the device from your hands, hooking them onto jeno's hair instead. you detached your husband away from yourself, "I was on a call!"

jeno scoffed, pulling you over his lap. "that damn fucker can wait." your sentence dismissed in your throat as you felt him grind against you throwing his head back. "I've been horny since forever, fuck." your hands immediately dragged jeno's shirt over his head, throwing it off somewhere.

"I think you holding my nephew was my awakening. I can't stop fucking thinking of us with a child of our own. feel like wanting to put a baby in you tonight, mm?" jeno asked breathless, in a hurry as he yanked your sweatpants off you. the yelp leaving your mouth turned into silence at the sudden question.

realizing, jeno looked up to you. "wait, we don't have to rea-" "yes."

you grabbed his cheeks pulling him towards you. the impact causing him to fall over you right back on the couch. "jen, how did you know?" you smile amazed, "Ive been thinking about this since forever."

the sparkle and love in your eyes almost made him collapse on spot. his own grin spread over his features before those monstrous strong arms of his slid under your ass.

before you could even process what was happening, you felt him lifting you and slamming you on the bed once you reached the bedroom.

you shot your eyes open looking at your husband standing against the edge on the bed.

your movements halted as jeno placed his knee between your legs, pressuring your sweet spot, elicting a gasp from your lips as his eyes darkened, “stay. still”

he pulled off his pants as he climbed on top of you.

“all I've been thinking of is knocking you up lately fuck... I'd do anything to see you with my baby.” he said, his voice deep and sultry as his hands roamed around your body.

you smiled before feeling his lips against yours. not even wasting a second, his tongue was already out, deep into your mouth as he tasted you from everywhere.

the loving look in his eyes darkened as if something else had taken over him. he looked at you now with such surity, oh, he was a man on a mission tonight.

your fingers tangled in his hair and moaning in his mouth as he ate your lips. one of his hands on your hip to keep you in place and the other on your breasts, massaging you as he occasionally flicked his thumb over your nipples making you clench your insides as you felt yourself getting wet.

his hands starting to dip lower, until they finally reached the lace band of your underwear. you gasped into his mouth when you felt his two of his fingers against your clit.

his long fingers rubbing over your wet pussy with such pace, your body jerked up and down at the impact. you moaned his name loudly as he inserted another finger in, moving you in circles. “look at you, you’re already so dripping wet just by my fingers.”

all shame leaving your body as you felt his hands inside you. letting out the most lewd and loud moans ever as you held onto his hands, urging him to go faster. jeno held your hands as he applied more pressure, “want me to put a baby in you hm? gonna knock you up real good babe.” he groaned, pumping his fingers up and down leaving you in shambles. “I asked a fucking question” he grunted as he slapped your ass loudly. wincing at the impact you got out a few words between your shaky breaths, “y-yes!”

“good mama.” he said as you cried out feeling yourself cum over his fingers. jeno gawked at the sight of your glistening entrance before lifting his wet fingers and inserting them in your mouth making you taste yourself. you moaned against his fingers as you swirled your tongue over, licking them clean, looking at him with your wide eyes as he let out a soft curse under his breath.

his lips pressed to yours and your body crashed against him entirely. you could feel his erection underneath as you slid your hands down, palming him over his pants as he moaned into your mouth. your other hand reaching over to unzip his pants while the other stroked his clothed length.

once the pants were discarded, you let down his boxers, his full and throbbing dick springing out slapping against his abs. jeno hissed at the cold air hitting him as he pulled your waist, “fuck, get down.”

without obligations, you got down to your knees as you stroked his length. teasing him just to see the sight of his head throwed back and his throbbing, twitching dick begging you to suck it. you finally moved your hands away letting your mouth take place.

you took his dick in by the tip first, licking sucking softly on it until you eventually moved lower, bobbing your head up and down. the way your tongue lay flat against his dick, your cheeks hollowing and how your pretty eyes looked up at him with his length in your mouth made jeno see stars. the trail of whispers and needy moans of your name from jeno’s voice were enough to get you wet. your fingers moved down to pull out your wet panties off. throwing the underwear elsewhere, you let your fingers move around your own clit, relieving yourself. you moaned against his dick, the vibrations sending him out of control as he gripped your hair, getting you as close as he could to his crotch, signaling him coming.

and he did. warm streams of his cum shot in your mouth as you swallowed him obediently. the rest of it, splattered over you chin and down to your chest, dripping off the valley between your breasts. the sight almost made jeno cum again. “so fucking pretty,” he mumbled, grabbing your waist, bringing you over to his lap as you straddled him.

“mine.” he kissed you, as you kissed him back, his hands capturing your ass. the kiss turning messier by every passing second, the feeling of his dick hardening beneath your behind was too tempting to not give in. without breaking the kiss, you lift your hips up, angling your entrance right above him before taking him in slowly.

the action making both you moan out as he stretched you out. feeling ready enough, you started bouncing slightly as jeno hummed, his hands on the both of your thighs, keeping you grounded. you moved harder, unable to keep your voice in your throat as your moans broke with every bounce. the sight of your pussy pooling wet grinding his dick, the sweat trailing down your body and finally your face, so fucked out. lips captured between your teeth, eyes rolling back and your uneven breath, all of it driving jeno crazy.

“jesus...” he breathed out, latching his mouth to your neck, sucking and biting it roughly before pulling back and taking a good look at it, making sure it left a mark.

jeno gripped your behind as he lifted you off along with him taking you to the bed. he plopped you down the bed as he stared at you. just let his dick tease around your hole, not giving what you wanted just yet. you whined, so desperate and so out of it. all you wanted was him. “je-no.. please baby..” you whispered, your core aching to feel him. “use your words babe.” jeno commanded, holding back the urge to pound into you with every force in his body. trails of whines left your lips, “please fuck me, I… I want to feel your dick in me.” and that’s all it took for his last nerve to snap.

jeno gave you no time to adjust as he thrashed his dick in you. You gasped, the impact causing your head to hit the pillows as you held your palms against the headboard for a good grip. He pulled out as you stared at his cock, erect and hard as ever, all drenched in your fluids. you head immediately darting upwards when he thrusted into you again, the pleasure too strong to take until you felt tears prick up.

jeno's pace was relentless, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one driving you closer to the edge. the room filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin. you clung to the headboard, barely able to hold on as waves of intense pleasure washed over you, feeling yourself teetering on the brink of euphoria. “oh god, s' fucking big." you managed to whisper between gasps, your body trembling under his touch.

he really fucked like he was on autopilot, it were almost like his strength never ran out. you felt your walls cave tighter around his length with every thrust. the headboard was shaking so loud, he practically yanked your body up and down, fucking you like it was the last day of planet earth. “fuck baby, you’re so tight and a-all for me shittt, I’m going to leave you-" thrust. "fucking pregnant tonight.”

jeno pulled one of your legs over his shoulders, turning you slightly sideways as he kept pounding. the angle made you go an octave louder as tsunamis of pleasure splashed over and over you. feeling his cock in you wholly, from every corner of your walls. you gripped the headboard behind for the umpteenth time, feeling yourself reaching your high.

just as you were about to release your fluids, your husband pulled out. you looked at him, with a flurry of emotions stirring in you. unable to take it, your hands landed on his cock, urging him to get back inside you. jeno loved it, seeing you like this, covered in sweat, whining and begging for his dick just to fuck you.

“do you want it?” he asked, hands over yours holding his dick. “yes… please” you mumbled out, feeling hazy at the mere sight of him. “are you sure angel?” jeno breathed out, connecting his head with yours momentarily. “so much baby, so fucking much, please, please fuck me, i-i can’t take it…” your pretty voice begging him so desperately. how could he refuse?

his hands slid down your thighs, pulling your other leg over his shoulders too. both your legs flung over him, trembling, and his eyes receiving a view of what he was working with. your face all red and sweaty, your body spasming and your swollen pussy shining with the both of your fluids, begging for his length to fill you up. without tormenting his wife further, jeno pounded right inside you. deep moans were let out from the both of you. jeno felt your walls tighten around his dick.

“fuck, keep going.” you begged as he kept fueling to your loud moans and lust filled whimpers with every thrust. your mind couldn’t wrap around how he made you feel such immense pleasure. the way his long hard cock entered your wet walls, stretching you out and thrusting you making your head hit the back everytime he collided into you, but you couldn’t care, everything was just too good.

the way your voice didn’t even start to sound like it were yours anymore. shamelessly moaning out to let the entire street know how good he fucked you.

you saw stars the moment his dick hit a particular spot as your jaw was left open and you choked on your own groan. “Is that the spot?” jeno smirked, rubbing his dick against it and you felt yourself ascend to the skies. “please, faster, go faster and cum in me please.” his speed accelerated as each thrust got heavier and stronger. “Yeah that’s it, please baby.” you moaned out feeling yourself advancing yourself towards your high.

jeno detached one of his arms from your thighs to your core as his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it sickly with expert precision. the feeling making you grip the sheets as your back arched completely, letting out a silent gasp.

he increased his speed, keeping his eyes on you as he looked at your form, all out of it. your mouth letting out moans as if it were on repeat, your eyes shut and brows in a frown, tits heaving up and down, legs spread open, sweat sliding, pussy all swollen, and his bulge prominent in your stomach.

a sweet smile spread across his face as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I love you, really." he exclaimed, after noticing you about to reach your high. his voice dripping with love and more love. and there it was, your orgasm. you came all over his dick as your body twitched and shivered. slow whimpers left your mouth and jeno kept his eyes on the sight. your body convulsed, your walls clenching around him as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure.

jeno groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his own release not far behind. with a few rolls against your overstimulated pussy, jeno came inside you. his warm fluids filling up your insides, grunts leaving his mouth.

after pulling out, he looked at the the mess he made. your legs still wide open, body panting, breath uneven, pussy stretched out and dripping with his cum. “fuck baby,” he leaned down to kiss you on your cheeks before getting back up, “this might as well be my sight every night.” and as if hypnotized by him, you nodded your head shamelessly before your eyes gave in, closing shut.

somewhere distant, actually just by the main door, stood a impatient haechan. his foot tapping against the ground as he kept ringing the bell, getting looks from around every one of your neighbors.

haechan, on the verge of ringing the bell again instead looked down at the ding on his phone.

y/n: listen now you bitch. you're gonna turn your ass around and walk right back into the elevator. my wife is currently very tired and very exhausted and is currently sleeping in my arms. it'd be appreciated if u leave us alone for the night^^

throwing his arms into the air haechan cursed loudly, gripping his scalp in distress at a lee jeno who currently giggled away to sleep.

an original iceonneo work.

[princessbrunette]

being the spoiled, ex prom queen, cheerleader, kook princess — who also happens to be rafe cameron’s toxic ex girlfriend.

you had to give credit where it was due. since you’d dumped rafe, he’d stepped his game up. you didn’t know how he did it, where he got all the money and the alleged gold, but you had to say, you were impressed. you knew he hoped you’d be watching his moves, knew it was most likely to impress you. turning up to one of his infamous tanny hill parties alone was a weak moment on your end, but you’d be damned if you were going to let him know that.

heads turn when you enter, not just because you were the infamous ex girlfriend, but because you looked good— and you wouldn’t have it any other way, stepping through the crowd confidently holding back a giggle at the sight of rafe boredly talking to a girl who looked like she’d taken a dip into your wardrobe. cute.

as soon as he sees you, he’s doing a double take — quickly pointing her in the direction of his friend and all but shooing her away, attempting to seem nonchalant all at the same time. you take your cue, walking over to him already holding an air of mischief, given away by the impish smile you wear.

“can i help you with something?” he drawls, but he can’t help the way the corner of his lips turn upward, or the way his eyes rake over your little outfit.

“mm, i don’t know. thought i’d swing by for old times sake, see what you were up to.” you sigh, eyes dragging down to his button up shirt, your hand reaching out to fiddle with a button. “this is cute.” you add on quietly.

“you think i don’t know that face? you want something so… out with it, please.” he blinks at you, going to remove your hand from him but he holds onto it.

“i can’t just say hi?” you bat your eyelashes with obvious faux innocence, tilting your head. “came here ‘cos i’m bored. play with me.” you step closer, not removing your doe eyes from him for a second as you invade his space. he sucks in a breath of self restraint, shifting on his feet.

“play with— that what you’re doin’ now? finally settin’ that pride aside for some dick, do i have that correct? you—you know i heard you were fucking on that maybank kid. so what… he not doin’ it for you? hm?” he stares down at you, eyes hanging low at the lust he was holding back.

“where’d you hear that? you keeping tabs on me rafey? that’s sweet.” you pur, smoothing his linen shirt down with your hands, manicured nails scratching him lightly through the fabric.

“people talk, alright?” he breaks his gaze, mainly to look around to see if any of his friends were watching him act like a total pussy whipped bitch over his ex.

“hmm. thought it was above you to listen to rumours. anyway, who said i want anything for myself? maybe i miss doing other things.” you defend, voice soft and velvety as a feather. to sell your point, your stand on your tiptoes, pulling him in closer to speak quietly into his ear. your glossed lips graze his jaw as you speak, leaving your pink mark on him. “c’mon daddy, just let me suck it a little. don’t you miss it?” you all but moan, and he licks his lips before his eyes flutter in irritated self control, nostrils flaring.

“you know it’s — it’s not fair to play with me like that. just… toying around with me when you’re bored. it’s sick, okay? you understand that?” he complains, pants tightening involuntarily.

you giggle, reaching behind him to the drinks table and plucking out a straw before dropping it into his drink and taking it out his hand, sucking the harsh liquid through the straw for a moment, “fine… you really want me to go… i’ll go.” you spin on your heel, taking one smug step before he winces at his own decisions, looking around and following you closely.

“shit, wait— okay?” he blurts and you freeze, slowly spinning back to him with a smile. he stares at you for a beat, lips parted in thought before he speaks. “are you… actually fucking jj maybank?”

you stare, thinking up a response before you look around. “does it matter? where’s your little girlfriend anyway?” there’s some victory for him, because he can hear the bitterness in your tone. he takes another step forward, lips pursed.

“shes not my girlfriend, a’ight? and — and yes it matters. okay? shit, seems like you’re keeping tabs on me. you know if you miss me you can just use your damn words.”

“miss you? my friend said she saw you sitting in your car alone blasting bryson tiller. you miss me.” you bite back a laugh and he closes the space between you until there was barely a gap between your bodies, the oldest cameron looming over you.

“gonna deny it, huh? saying… you don’t miss me?” he challenges and you widen your eyes up at him, switching the innocent act on once more.

“miss you? but you were so mean? how could i miss that? i do however, miss this.” your hand snakes down his stomach and cups his alarmingly hard bulge through his pants making him tense up, looking around before smacking your hand away.

“chill — yeah? we’re in public, i don’t know if you realised.”

“so let’s go somewhere more private.” you propose, staring him down. he knows if he does, it’ll only be you that gets what you want — but he can’t resist, pressing his lips together with a nod.

“fine, okay. shit… such a little brat, ‘know that?”

“mhm, you love it.” you grin, letting him lead you through the house to the bedroom upstairs.

[mahalkitamully]

a better stress reliever ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

: leon kennedy x reader

content warning !! : mature content ahead (no unprotected sex you freaks), praise kink, marks (biting/hickieshenwajhfnejf), but I promise it's kinda fluffy :3

sub to dom leon muwahahah

i've never wrote smut before, so expect this to be kind of cookie cutter. (I was too embarrassed rereading it and making sure it was good so y'all getting this the way it was playing out in my head)

一

"baby we really gotta find healthier stress relievers for you." you spoke, gently taking the unopened bottle from Leon's hand. "like what?" he grumbled, eyeing the bottle in your hand as you thought for a bit.

"we can't go out right now.. so why don't we just- watch a movie together or something? quality time together y'know?"

he paused, before nodding. you led him to the couch and he sat a little further away. whenever he was stressed he didn't really want to be touched so you gave him space. you let him pick a movie and half way through it, he grabbed your waist, pulling you closer towards him.

"i'm sorry-." he mumbled, his hand softly caressing your side as you smiled lightly. "it's alright babe."

as the movie progressed, his hand found its way to your thigh, then slowly rode up ever so slightly. you eyed him, your head tilted as you stared at him confused. "what're you doing?" you asked and he immediately moved his hand back down. "sorry- i- just-.. you're so.. attractive-." he spoke lamely, his eyes avoiding yours. despite his boldness, your comfort came first to him.

you rolled your eyes before he frowned slightly, his thumb tracing circles on your leg. "..baby can i..?"

"can you what?" you asked, tilting your head. you knew what he wanted but- fuck he's so pretty when he begs.

"...can I touch you? I think that'll be a healthy stress reliever.." he was cute when he flirted- even if it was a little lame.

"what's the magic word?"

"please? can I please touch you? fuck.. I want to so bad baby please.." he looked at you, his finger continuing to draw shapes on your leg before you smiled proudly. he eagerly walked with you to the bedroom, gently pushing you onto the bed.

he started slow- or at least tried to. he kissed you softly for a second before tilting his head, deepening the kiss as his tongue pressed against your lips. you crawled on top of him, his hands gently caressing your chest before trailing down your stomach, his finger tips at the waistband of your underwear.

"nuh uh.. not yet.." you spoke, gently moving his hand away as you grinded on his growing boner. he let out a muffled grunt, his brows furrowed as he held your hips tightly, his eyes fluttering shut. "fuck.." he cursed under his breath, a wet spot growing on his pants.

"please baby stop teasing.. please I wanna touch you so bad.." he groaned out, his hands gripping your hips tightly. you shook your head, smiling sadistically.

after a while (five minutes was all it took, baby was stressed.), he quickly took you off him, pinning you down under him before he placed his knee between your legs gently. "I can't wait anymore.." he mumbled, before hastily taking your shirt off. he leaned down, placing hungry hickies on your chest as his hands struggled to take his own clothes off.

after leaving trails of hickies on you, he unzipped his pants, his already leaking tip pink and ready for you. he gently kissed your nose before speaking once more.

"m'gonna fuck you now baby ok..?" he mumbled and waited for your nod once more. as soon as you did, he slowly pushed inside of you, his head dipping down to kiss your neck once more. once all of him was inside, he took a breath and paused, the tip of his dick hitting inside of you right where you needed it to be.

he always waited for your signal to move, never proceeding until then. "doing so good baby.. fuck... you- hah.. you feel so good.." he groaned, his hands gently holding yours as he placed kisses on your face, trailing your neck and collarbone.

he whispered praises into your ear, his breath hot as he slowly thrusted inside you- in and out skillfully.

"leon.." you moaned, your eyes shutting as you felt him moving inside of you. "I love hearing you say my name.." he felt you grip the back of his shoulders, your eyes teary as he quickened his pace. "shh.. you're doing great baby don't worry shhh.." he kissed your tears away, both your bodies shimmering with sweat.

despite his sweet praise, his movements were rough and fast. he left hickies and bites on your neck, his cock hitting deep inside you.

"are you close sweetie? 'cause I am.." he whispered, biting your neck as he kept his pace. your body shook as the coil in your gut releases, both your breaths heavy.

he kissed your cheek gently, as you smiled weakly. "thank you babe.." he whispered before slowly pulling out, standing up shakily as he reached for his boxers. "i'll get you some water and we can go show okay?"

一

i've never written smut before.. i'm sorry if it's bad!! to my irl friends no u didn't see this.

[batsovergotham]

CHAPTER 3 PART 2

you called it “a one-time thing” and then did it again immediately

pairing - emperor!mark grayson x reader

summary - you were supposed to form an alliance. instead you slept with him three days in and now you have no idea what’s happening.

content notice: 18+ SMUT (fingering, blowjobs, cunnilingus, 69, voyeurism, biting (?), squirting, overstimulation, mean mark (not really he's just jealous), mentions of SA

a/n: thank you for all of your lovely asks and comments <3 also sorry for any mistakes its currently 3am for me

Before anyone can say more, the door chime sounds.

A moment later, Ursaal steps inside, her expression as carefully neutral as ever, but there’s something a little softer in her gaze when she looks at Marky sprawled across the cushions, his legs kicked up and his tablet held triumphantly in both hands.

“Dinner,” she says simply. “Cafeteria rotation started ten minutes ago. You’re late.”

Marky flops back like he’s just been issued a death sentence. “But I’m in the zone.”

“You’ll still be in the zone after dinner,” she replies dryly. “Let’s go.”

Marky groans but climbs to his feet anyway, dragging the tablet with him. “Can I show it to Terra later?”

“After you eat.”

“Can I tell her about the fish man?”

You and Mark both speak at the same time.

“No.”

Ursaal raises a brow at you both. “Should I ask?”

“No,” Mark says again. “Definitely not.”

Marky salutes dramatically and stomps toward the door. “Alright. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, the soup won.”

Ursaal sighs and follows him out, casting one last glance at the two of you. It’s not judgmental. Not quite curious either. Just... aware.

The door hisses shut.

And you’re alone again.

Mark exhales and leans back against the cushions, head tipping against the wall.

You glance at him, quiet.

He’s still watching the door.

Like he’s not sure what kind of peace this is.

Or how long it’ll last.

The two of you sit side by side on the edge of the couch, shoulders brushing, the room dimly lit now that the artificial sun has dipped into shipboard evening. The soft glow of Marky’s drawing tablet flickers on the table where he left it, his art, still open on the screen, catching little movements of light as if the moment hasn’t finished breathing yet.

Mark tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes for a second. You watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. The way his fingers curl lightly against his thigh. The scar on his hairline you hadn’t noticed before this angle.

You don’t speak.

But you’re not waiting, either.

Then, he turns.

Looks at you.

He doesn’t say a word. Just studies your face for a long beat. Like he’s trying to memorize something. Like he knows this version of you, this quiet, post-storm version, won’t last forever.

You meet his eyes and hold his gaze.

No fear.

No game.

Just you.

Mark shifts toward you, slow, deliberate, and lifts a hand to your face. His thumb brushes lightly beneath your eye, like he’s checking for something invisible. His palm cradles the curve of your jaw.

And then, he leans in.

Not fast.

Not urgent.

He gives you time to pull away.

You don’t.

His mouth brushes yours like he’s still deciding if this is real.

But then he kisses you again.

Fuller. Firmer. Like he’s stopped asking the question.

It’s not like the kiss from two nights ago, frantic and tangled and full of heat. This one is slow. Anchored. It tastes like gravity. Like a decision.

He pulls back just enough to breathe against your lips.

And says, quietly, like a vow.

“You don’t have to say anything yet.”

His hand doesn’t leave your face.

“But I’m not letting anyone take you.”

Your heart stutters.

You swallow, barely moving.

He keeps his eyes on you. Unblinking. Steady. Not a challenge.

A truth.

You reach up slowly and cover his hand with yours.

“I don’t want to go,” you whisper. 

He leans his forehead against yours, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“Then stay.”

Your fingers tighten around his.

“I’m scared,” you admit.

“So am I,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean we’re wrong.”

His hand is still on your waist, steady but restrained, like he's barely holding himself in check. His lips ghost the edge of your jaw, just enough to make your breath hitch. When he speaks, it’s quieter than you expect, but no less direct, that dry edge of sarcasm bleeding through, just enough to make it sound like Mark.

“So. Mer-man.”

His mouth brushes the curve just under your ear, and you feel the small smile in his voice before he says it.

“Your dad is really trying to pawn you off to Aquarius’ discount cousin?”

You let out a laugh, short and sharp, biting back your answer even as heat curls low in your gut. “He thinks it’ll keep the oceans neutral. Apparently my uterus has political weight.”

Mark pulls back enough to look at you, brows raised. “That’s… horrifying,” he mutters, then adds, “Also, bullshit.”

His expression darkens, not angry, not really. More like frustrated. Conflicted. His eyes drop to your neck, and when he leans in again, it’s slower. Focused. His mouth finds the place where the skin is just starting to smooth from before. The way he kisses it, soft at first, then deeper, firmer, you know he’s not just remembering where he touched you.

He’s reminding you who did.

“You heal fast,” he murmurs. “But I still see it. Right here.” His tongue brushes the faint mark, then his lips press in again, harder this time. You feel the pull, the suction, a warmth blooming beneath your skin as he sinks a little deeper into the moment. Then he mutters, almost to himself, “Not fast enough, apparently.”

You reach up, your fingers curling in the fabric over his chest. “You’re mad.”

He huffs against your neck. “Not mad. I just—” He cuts himself off. His hand curls around your waist a little tighter, like it’ll help him finish the sentence. “It’s been two days. It’s fast. I know that. But the idea of you leaving, of you going to him?”

He finally looks at you, eyes sharp but uncertain, flicking from your mouth to your eyes and back again. “I don’t want you to go.”

There’s no drama in the way he says it. No pretense. Just that calm, blunt honesty you’ve started to recognize as uniquely him, even when it carries the weight of something unsaid.

You open your mouth to answer, but he’s already moving again, his mouth dragging down your neck, retracing those half-healed bruises with tongue and teeth.

“I know we’re not anything,” he mutters against your skin, the words low, tense. “But I don’t want to watch you end up being someone’s elses. Some man your dad picks to keep things quiet.”

His mouth seals around the base of your neck, sucking hard enough to make you gasp. His teeth follow, enough to hurt, just a little. The sting flickers, then fades into heat, and you clutch tighter to him.

“I’m not going,” you say, voice low, breath shaky. “I told them no.”

Mark stills.

Then he pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes again. The relief is quiet, not dramatic, but it’s there. You see it in the way his shoulders shift, in the way he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it since the moment he overheard the call.

“Good,” he says, voice quiet, and this time his mouth finds yours again, deeper now. Less hesitant.

“Because I really don’t feel like letting you.”

His lips are still on yours when you murmur it, breath slipping between the spaces of the kiss like you’re not sure you want to say it, but you do.

Your hand rests on his chest, the slow thump of his heart steady beneath your palm, but your voice betrays the war inside you, the tug-of-war between responsibility and the sheer gravitational pull of him.

“Mark,” you whisper, breath brushing his cheek, “we really should be getting back to Marky…”

The name hangs in the air like a small weight, but Mark doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away. He stays where he is, gaze fixed on yours, his eyes darkened by something deeper than just desire, something almost conflicted. But it lasts only a breath.

Then he exhales, slow, deliberate, and leans in closer, the corner of his mouth curving into something that’s not quite a smirk, not quite a plea.

“He’ll understand,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours. “Just this once.”

He kisses you again before you can protest, and this time it’s not soft.

It’s not asking.

It’s answering.

His lips press hard to yours, sure and searching, and the sound you make, half gasp, half moan, rattles loose from your throat as your body surges up to meet him. He’s so warm, solid above you, and his hand moves to cup the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair as he angles you just right, deepening the kiss.

You mean to resist, to pull back, to remind him of the promise you made to Marky. But your hands betray you. They slide up his sides, feeling the ridges of strength beneath his uniform, the way his muscles shift with every breath, every restrained movement. He groans softly into your mouth when your nails drag down his ribs, and it shakes something loose in him.

The dam breaks.

His hand slips beneath your dress again, but this time there’s no patience, just need. His palm slides up your bare stomach, fingers splaying wide, rough calluses brushing your skin as he pushes the fabric higher and higher. You arch into him without thinking, your body betraying every logical part of you, craving the heat and pressure of him.

You gasp his name again, but this time it’s not a warning. It’s not a protest.

It’s permission.

That’s all he needs.

He kisses you harder, tongue sliding against yours as he pulls your dress up and over your head in one swift movement, breaking contact only long enough to strip it off. He stares down at you, chest rising and falling, and his eyes, God, his eyes, burn with something raw and reverent.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he says, voice low, almost like he hates admitting it. “It’s only been two days.”

You reach for him, fingers curling into the hem of his uniform. “Then don’t.”

He rips the top off, not bothering with finesse, and your breath catches at the sight of him, lean, scarred, strong in a way that speaks of battles hard-fought and survived. You drink him in, your hands roaming his chest, his shoulders, the heat of his skin branding your palms. He shudders when you touch him, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before he opens them again and devours you with that look.

Then he lowers himself over you, kissing your throat, your collarbone, the upper swell of your chest, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. When he reaches the fading bruises near your neck, the ones he left before, he pauses. Kisses it. Sucks slow and deep, right over the healing skin, until you moan and clutch at his back.

“You should’ve healed faster,” he murmurs, voice rough with something like guilt, like desire laced with regret. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to look at the fresh mark blooming under his mouth. His thumb brushes over it, possessive, needy.

“When they see you, I want them thinking of me.”

You don’t answer with words. You grab his face, pull him back into a kiss so desperate, so needy, it makes him groan low in his throat. His hands move again, finding your hips, gripping you with restrained force as he rolls his body against yours. You feel every line of him, his hardness, the tension in his arms, the heat he’s been swallowing down since the second he saw you in that hallway.

You lift your hips instinctively, seeking more of him, and he exhales a curse against your lips.

He lifts you again, not quite tossing you, more like he claims you, sweeping you further up the bed so you’re laid out beneath him completely, your legs tangled with his, your breath shallow, chest heaving.

“You can still say no,” he says again, even now, even with his body humming with need and his hands trembling as they slide along your thighs. “But if you don’t—if you stay—”

You cut him off, voice low and sure. “Then make me stay.”

His mouth crashes onto yours again, and this time, there's no turning back.

Your hands are already moving, restless, certain. No more hesitation. No more second-guessing. The feel of him beneath your palms, the way his breath stutters as you slide your hands down his chest, it spurs something primal, something impatient. You push him back just enough to sit up, knees straddling his hips, your fingers already at the waistband of his uniform pants.

Mark watches you, chest rising and falling like he’s been holding his breath for hours, not seconds. His hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking slow circles, but he doesn’t stop you. His gaze follows your hands as you strip him, his pants sliding over those long, powerful legs, and the tension in his jaw tells you exactly what this is costing him, to let you take control. To let you see him like this.

Vulnerable. Wanting.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, voice rough, reverent.

You meet his gaze. “Completely.”

His eyes burn into you, like you’re oxygen in a world that’s been choking him. Then you’re moving again. Your hands slide up his thighs, slow and teasing, before you lean down, mouth brushing across his hipbone, warm breath skating over bare skin. He’s hard already, straining, and when your lips graze just beside the base of him, he curses under his breath, fingers tightening around your legs.

You look up at him, your voice a whisper against his stomach. “I want you. All of you.”

Then your mouth lowers again.

You kiss along the ridges of his abdomen, soft and slow, feeling the way he tenses beneath your touch. Your lips explore every line of muscle, every faint scar, mapping the history etched into his skin. You follow the deep line that carves down the center of his body with your tongue, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of his skin, the sharp hitch of his breath.

He groans when your mouth finds the hollow just above his cock, head falling back against the pillow as his hands slide up your sides. His control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his hips shift beneath you, the way his fingers dig into your waist, like he wants to drag you up and take you right there, but doesn’t. Not yet.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, half-laugh, half-moan.

You smile against his skin. “Not yet.”

And then you kiss lower.

You flatten your tongue and lick a long, deliberate line across the crease of his pelvis. He lets out a sound, guttural, raw, and his fingers tangle in your hair without pulling, just holding, grounding himself. He’s watching you now, eyes half-lidded but burning, jaw tight, throat working around words he isn’t saying.

You glance up at him through your lashes, your lips brushing along the very top of his cock without touching where he wants you most. He’s thick, flushed, and hard, completely, achingly hard, and the way he pulses against your breath makes you ache in turn.

“You’re shaking,” you whisper, voice silken.

Mark exhales through his nose, jaw tight. “So are you.”

You smile. “Guess we’re both in trouble then.”

And then you take him into your mouth.

Not all at once, no, you want to feel this, make it count. Your lips wrap around the tip first, teasing, your tongue swirling lazily along the sensitive ridge, tasting him, relishing the salt-tinged heat. His reaction is immediate. A soft, strangled groan rumbles in his chest, and his hand in your hair tightens just a little, not guiding, not controlling, just needing.

You sink lower, slow and steady, inch by inch, feeling him stretch your mouth, fill it. The sounds he makes, low and unguarded, are better than you imagined. You can feel the effort it takes for him to stay still beneath you, hips locked, thighs tense, every muscle tight like a man barely holding onto control.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice roughened with awe, “you’re… perfect. That mouth—shit…”

You hum around him, and the vibration sends a shiver through his body. You begin to move, finding a rhythm, slow, deep, then shallow again, letting your lips glide along him with purpose, tongue tracing the underside of his cock on every pull back. Saliva coats him, slick and warm, and you hear it, wet, obscene sounds mixing with his ragged breathing and the soft creak of the bed beneath you both.

Mark looks down at you like he’s never seen anything more devastating in his life. “You don’t have to—”

You pull back just long enough to whisper, “I want to.”

Then you take him deeper.

He groans, head falling back, hand fisting in the sheets now. He’s trying not to buck into your mouth, trying not to lose that iron grip on himself. But he’s close, you feel it in the way he twitches on your tongue, in the low growl building in his throat.

You reach down, sliding your hand between your own thighs, desperate and throbbing from the sheer heat of him, the taste, the way he groans your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

When you feel his hips tense and his breath catch, you pull back slightly, letting your hand replace your mouth, stroking him while you kiss and suck at the sensitive tip.

He chokes on your name. “You keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.”

You lick up the vein along his length, slow and deliberate. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Mark sits up so fast it startles you, and in the next moment, he’s on you, hands gripping your waist, dragging you forward and up, mouth crashing against yours. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other slides between your thighs, finding you soaked and throbbing.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, fingers slipping between your folds, teasing but not entering yet. “You were touching yourself while your mouth was on me? Fuck…”

You gasp against his lips, nodding. “Couldn’t help it.”

His fingers press inside you suddenly, two, thick and sure, and you cry out, your hips rolling into the thrust, greedy for more. You’re unraveling under his touch, his breath hot on your throat, his voice a low murmur you feel more than hear.

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

His fingers thrust into you deeper, slow at first, stretching, curling, pressing into that devastating spot that makes your legs tremble. You gasp, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging in without shame. He kisses you hard then, swallowing your moans, the rhythm of his hand syncing to the wet, loud sounds echoing in the room.

"God, Mark—"

He cuts you off with another kiss, less finesse now, more heat, more want. His mouth moves down your neck, open-mouthed kisses dragging along the pulse at your throat, down your collarbone as his fingers keep working inside you. His thumb finds your clit and circles it, slow and deliberate, making your hips jerk against him.

“I’m not letting you go,” He breathes the words into you, voice unsteady, like he means every inch of it. “I don’t care how long it’s been. I’m not losing this. I’m not losing you.”

You whimper as his thumb presses harder, the slick friction sending electric heat through your core. Your body arches off the bed, thighs trembling around his hips. He leans in again, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, his free hand cradling the back of your neck with a gentleness that nearly breaks you.

“You’re mine now,” he says, and there’s no performance in it, no possessive growl or brute dominance, just certainty. Like he’s stating something he already knows to be true. “Stay with me. Let me keep you safe. Let me have you.”

You grind into his hand, panting, clinging to him like the air itself is slipping away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He groans at that, his pace quickening. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you whisper, gasping as his fingers curl inside you again, hitting that spot that makes your vision white out at the edges. “I’m yours, Mark.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, and his fingers drive into you harder, faster, the slick heat between your thighs growing unbearable. You moan into the kiss, a broken, needy sound, your body unraveling against him, dripping, shaking.

His fingers slide deeper inside you, curling just right, intimate, practiced, like he’s learning you by feel alone and already becoming fluent. The wet sound of your arousal slicks between you, shameless and loud, filling the room with a rhythm that matches your staggered breathing. You arch beneath him, thighs tightening around his hips as he strokes you from the inside, every movement slow but precise, devastatingly controlled.

You gasp, breaking the kiss as your head falls back, neck arched, lips parted in raw need.

He doesn’t stop.

“You feel this?” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and desperate. “How wet you are? You’re soaking my fucking fingers.”

You nod, whimpering. “I can’t—fuck—Mark…”

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your throat, pausing at your pulse, hot breath fanning over your skin. “You’re gonna come for me. Like this. Just like this.”

He bites down gently, enough to make your breath catch, then sucks hard enough to bloom another mark. You feel it echo all the way down to where his fingers are plunging into you, slow at first, then faster. You’re dripping now, hips grinding helplessly against his hand, your moans filling the room with every thrust.

He withdraws his fingers slightly, just enough to thrust back in harder. Deeper. His palm presses flat against your mound, thumb circling your clit in tight, deliberate pulses. Your body bucks, everything tightening, clenching around him.

“You stay here,” he bites out into your neck, breath shuddering. “You stay with me. With Marky. With us. I won’t lose you to that—fucking fish.” He thrusts harder at that, punctuating the words, voice fraying into something desperate and raw. 

You cry out, loud, helpless, as the wave crests, sharp and sudden.

“I’m yours,” you gasp, legs trembling. “Mark, I’m yours, I swear—”

And that’s all it takes.

He buries his mouth against your throat, groaning as you come hard around his fingers, your body pulsing, soaking him as your walls tighten and convulse. Your back arches, stars bursting behind your eyes, every nerve raw and alive as your orgasm tears through you. You feel yourself dripping down his hand, every muscle trembling under the weight of release.

“Fuck yes,” he mutters against your skin, kissing you hard, holding you through the shuddering aftershocks. His fingers stay buried deep, still stroking gently as you twitch and whimper beneath him. “That’s it. That’s mine. You’re mine.”

You clutch him close, your lips seeking his as you crash back down to earth, breathless and burning.

Mark’s hand is still inside you, fingers soaked, your thighs trembling around his hips. His mouth grazes your jaw, lips brushing the sheen of sweat along your skin as he slows his movements, easing you through the last ripples of your orgasm. Your body’s still pulsing around him, raw, sensitive, wrecked in the best possible way, and he looks down at you like he’s not entirely sure how to stop touching you.

And he doesn’t want to.

His fingers slide free slowly, and you bite your lip at the lingering ache, the warm wet stretch still tingling between your legs. He brings his hand to his mouth, eyes locked to yours, and sucks your arousal off his fingers with a quiet groan. It’s obscene, unhurried, almost reverent.

“Christ,” he murmurs. “You taste like you were made for me.”

You’re about to pull him down on top of you, to wrap your legs around his waist and drag him back into the heat, but then.

Knock. Knock.

Both of you freeze.

A pause. Then a voice, flat, unimpressed, and very Viltrumite.

“Emperor, Marky’s been waiting.”

It’s Ursaal.

You scramble upright, pulling the sheets over your bare chest like it might somehow erase the dripping, breathless state you’re in. Mark blinks at the door, the fire in his eyes flickering, replaced first by disbelief, then a long-suffering groan that sounds like it came from the center of his soul.

“For how long?” he calls back, voice cracking slightly as he reaches for his discarded clothes.

Ursaal’s answer is dry and dagger-sharp. “Long enough to ask if you two forgot he exists.”

You bury your face in your hands, half-laughing, half-mortified. Mark yanks on his top, muttering under his breath, “Goddamn timing…”

“She doesn’t need to know what we were—” you begin, cheeks flushed.

“Oh, she knows,” Ursaal replies through the door, cutting you off. “I have enhanced hearing, Mark. So unless the ship has started springing leaks in exactly the rhythm of a woman gasping your name, I suggest you get dressed. Now.”

You groan. Mark just drags his fingers through his hair and casts you a look over his shoulder, one that’s still wanting, but now laced with something fond. Something real.

“This isn’t over,” he says, voice low, raw.

You meet his gaze, flushed, still aching, your skin humming where he touched you. You breathe, “Not even close.”

You turn away from him, trying to fix your hair in the polished reflective metal of the wall, Viltrumite architecture has no vanity mirrors, because apparently vanity itself is beneath them, but practical reflection isn’t. Your cheeks are flushed, your mouth swollen, and your neck…

Your fingers freeze.

“Mark,” you say, voice tight, “you left bruises. Again.”

"Yeah," he says from behind you, unapologetic. "I was going to leave more."

You glare over your shoulder.

He finally rises, reluctantly, dragging on his grey bottoms first. “I said he could wait. I didn’t say we had to stop.”

“Well, we did,” you snap. Then you soften a little, watching him stretch to pull his red top over his head. His hair gets mussed in the process. His stomach flexes as the fabric rolls down. The memory of his hands between your thighs rushes up so fast your knees threaten to give out.

You swallow and look away. “Ursaal’s going to kill us.”

“No, she won’t.” He finishes dressing like he’s done this before, like he’s too experienced at untangling moments like this. “She’ll just hold it over my head for the next fifty years.”

You glance down at yourself, your diplomatic skirt is inside out, your bodice still partially unlaced, and groan. “You’re the Emperor. You can’t just show up smelling like sex to your son’s dinner.”

“You think I smell like sex?” he teases. “That’s flattering.”

“I think you smell like trouble.”

“And yet,” he says, striding over, “you keep coming back.”

He tugs your dress gently, fingers brushing the laces with practiced ease. Not lewd, not rushed. Just intimate. Like he’s done this before with you. Like you’ve been doing this for years. You stare up at him, quiet now, letting him dress you like some hidden rite between lovers.

“You don’t have to make it perfect,” you murmur. “Just... enough so I don’t look like I was being ravished by the Emperor ten minutes ago.”

He smirks. “But you were.”

“Mark—”

He kisses your cheek, soft, chaste, a silent sorry-not-sorry, then pulls back with that familiar look of restrained heat still simmering under the surface. “Don’t worry,” he says, thumb brushing your lower lip as he smooths your hair. “We’ll finish this. Later.”

You pull your hand from his cape as you exit the bedroom together, trying not to think about how close you came to being taken apart on those sheets, how easily he could’ve made you come just from the weight of his voice and those goddamn fingers.

The hallway is dim, echoing with the usual hum of the ship’s internal workings. Mark moves ahead like nothing happened, like he’s just heading to dinner with his son and not walking off a half-finished high.

You trail after him, every step a reminder of what was interrupted.

By the time you reach the dining chamber, your heart has steadied but your skin still sings. Ursaal stands at the entrance with her arms folded, expression unreadable. Her eyes flick to Mark, then to you, then very pointedly to the slight discoloration peeking out from your collar.

You both stop.

You clear your throat. “I apologize. We got... caught up.”

“In what?” she asks coolly.

“Diplomatic... strategy,” you say, almost convincingly.

Mark snorts beside you.

Ursaal doesn’t break. “Marky has already started eating. I told him you were in a meeting.”

Mark nods. “Thanks.”

“And what message should I give him next time?” she asks, gaze sharpening. “When he hears his father moaning across the ship?”

Your mouth falls open.

Mark groans under his breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Okay, noted.”

You’re too embarrassed to meet her eyes. But then she just sighs and waves you both inside. “I’ll give you this,” she says as you pass. “At least he’s not being insufferable anymore.”

The dining hall is brightly lit, overly ornate for a ship this size, but Marky is already at the long table, kicking his feet and reading from a tablet. He looks up when you enter.

“Hey!” he beams. “You’re late. I ate the pickled glopfruit.”

You blink. “That’s okay. I wasn’t planning to—”

“She loves glopfruit,” Mark interrupts smoothly. “She’ll survive.”

You shoot him a look. He smiles like he’s trying very hard not to look like a man who was almost just blown again in his bedroom.

Dinner resumes awkwardly.

You try not to fidget under the table, try not to react when Mark’s hand brushes your thigh beneath the cloth. You look down at your plate. He leans in close to offer you the salt, his voice low in your ear.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

You stiffen. “Mark—”

“I meant what I said. You’re not leaving.”

You glance at Marky, who’s telling you a story about space lizards and some new planet he’s learning about. His voice is bright, full of laughter.

You inhale slowly. “I already told you. I turned down the match.”

His gaze is steady, too serious for the dinner table. “I know. But I want to hear you say it again. After this.”

You say nothing, but under the table, your hand finds his.

And he lets you hold it. Warm and steady. Just enough to keep you grounded. Just enough to say everything he’s not ready to say out loud.

The Emperor eats with you and his son. But under it all, his grip on you never wavers.

And even though you’re sitting in a perfectly lit room, eating an oddly sweet purple fruit while Ursaal pretends not to be eavesdropping two seats down, you can still feel the echo of his voice in your ear.

We’ll finish this.

Later.

You’re slicing through a soft, steaming root vegetable, something tangy and violet, a local Viltrumite hybrid that you're trying not to compare to Eternian rations, when Marky speaks up, casual in tone but precise in timing.

“Can we go to Earth? I want to see Terra.”

Your hand stills.

Across the table, Mark goes rigid. Not visibly. Not obviously. Just… still, in that way you’ve come to recognize. That quiet bracing he does when the past creeps up on him faster than he was prepared for.

Marky keeps going, oblivious. “I haven’t seen her since her birthday. And that was here. On the ship. It’s her turn now.”

Mark’s voice comes out low, not quite tight but far from easy. “You miss her?”

Marky nods. “Yeah. She’s fun. She said she made a club in the woods. A real one. With passwords and a flag.”

Mark doesn’t answer.

“She wants me to visit. She said there’s a tree we can climb that shakes when it rains. I want to go there.”

You glance at Mark. His jaw’s set, but his eyes are distant. Not angry. Just far away.

“She still talks to you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Marky says. “Sometimes. Eve helps her get on the callpad.”

You can feel the silence start to thicken between bites. The kind of silence that isn't empty, it’s loaded. Heavy. Full of all the things not being said.

Mark leans back slowly. “I haven’t really been back there.”

Marky frowns. “To Earth?”

Mark nods once. “Not since I left.”

The table goes quiet.

“You mean… you’ve never gone back?” Marky asks, wide-eyed.

Mark’s hand flexes against his knee. “Not for more than a landing. A pickup. Nothing longer than a few hours. And never where anyone could see me.”

“Not even to see Terra?” Marky asks, confused.

“She always comes here,” Mark replies, voice quiet. “Or we meet somewhere in-between. It’s just… easier.”

Marky’s brow furrows. “That’s not fair. Her stuff’s there. Her friends. Her fort.”

Mark doesn’t argue. He just breathes.

“Plus,” Marky says, not finished, “Grandma’s there too, right?”

That lands like a crack in a window.

You look at Mark just as his expression shifts. Barely. But enough.

“I guess,” Marky adds, “you haven’t seen her either?”

Mark shakes his head. “No. Not in a while.”

“Why?”

Mark shrugs. It’s an empty gesture. He doesn’t even try to lie. “Because I keep telling myself I will. When things settle. When I have time. But it never happens.”

Marky looks down at his plate. “You think she misses you?”

Mark doesn’t speak for a long beat. Then, soft as a confession. “Yeah.”

You reach beneath the table, brushing your fingers against his hand. You don’t say anything. But he doesn’t pull away.

Marky glances up again. “So... can I go?”

Mark swallows. Then, finally. “Yeah.”

It’s not a confident yes. Not the kind he gives on a battlefield or in front of his advisors. It’s hesitant. Raw. But it’s real.

Marky lights up. “Really?!”

“Yeah,” Mark says again, more firmly this time. “You can go see her. I’ll arrange it.”

The boy practically vibrates in his chair. “We’re gonna climb trees and eat crispy flowers and maybe dig for worms.”

“Wow,” you say dryly. “Truly diplomatic.”

“She said she’d make me a crown,” Marky adds.

Mark actually laughs at that. It’s small, but genuine. “Of course she did.”

Dinner continues a little more relaxed. Marky tells you about Terra’s plan to build a rocket that runs on lemon juice. You and Mark nod through every impossible detail, letting his joy carry the tone.

When Marky finally runs off to his room, dessert still in hand, Mark lingers in the corridor beside you.

He leans against the wall like he needs it. Eyes closed. Shoulders heavier than they were ten minutes ago.

“I meant to go back,” he says. “Just never knew how to start.”

You study him quietly. “You don’t have to go now. But you should. Eventually. For him. For her. For your mom.”

“I know.”

He turns his head, finally meeting your gaze.

“I was a different person when I left. Angry. Torn up. I didn’t know how to be a dad. I barely knew how to be me.”

“And now?”

He breathes. “Now I think I’m scared to go back and find out they’re all doing better without me.”

You step forward, placing your hand gently against his chest. “They’re not. They’ve just been surviving without you. That’s not the same.”

Mark catches your wrist, just for a second. Not to stop you. Just to hold something.

“You’ll come with me?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate. “Always.”

He closes his eyes again. Like hearing it actually hurts. Like it soothes something raw and aching at the same time.

Then he says it again, softly.

“You remember what I said?”

“We’ll finish this,” you whisper back.

His mouth finds yours slowly. No hunger, no rush. Just closeness. Just warmth. A kiss that says thank you. A kiss that means soon.

And when he pulls back, forehead pressed to yours, he exhales like he’s finally letting some of it go.

“I should’ve told her,” he murmurs. “That I miss her too.”

“You still can.”

Mark doesn’t answer right away.

But he holds your hand a little tighter. And you know he’s already thinking about the call. About what he’ll say.

About finally going home.

The corridor is quiet now. Dimly lit, humming with the gentle pulse of the ship’s power systems, familiar and cold and clean. You’re still standing close to him, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. He hasn’t moved since he whispered that he misses his mom.

Neither have you.

The silence doesn’t feel empty. It feels like something is being built. Carefully. Like he’s finally letting you see the parts of him that aren’t holding it all together.

Then a sound interrupts it.

A shuffle of small feet. The whisper-swish of soft fabric and a door sliding open.

You pull apart just slightly, just enough to turn, and see Marky standing at the corner of the corridor, half-hiding against the wall.

He’s clutching his blanket under one arm, the edge of it dragging slightly against the floor. His eyes are big in the low light, bright with something uncertain. Not fear. Not even sadness. Something quieter.

Hope. A child's kind of hope. Fragile. Brave.

Mark straightens up a little when he sees him.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, voice soft. “I thought Ursaal was taking you to bed.”

“I was,” Marky murmurs. “But I heard you talking.”

You glance at Mark, but he doesn’t look panicked. Just tired. Open.

Marky pads forward a little, then hesitates.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, looking between the two of you. “That I can go?”

Mark nods slowly. “Yeah. I meant it.”

Marky’s shoulders drop with visible relief. But he doesn’t smile. He doesn’t run off like he did before. Instead, he turns fully toward you.

“Can she come too?”

The question is quiet. Honest. And it lands like something bigger than it sounds.

You blink. “Me?”

Marky nods, stepping closer now. “You’re always nice. And you don’t treat me like I’m going to break things. And Terra likes you. And you make Dad less grumpy.”

You choke on a laugh and look at Mark. He raises a brow. “Grumpy?”

Marky shrugs. “You are. Like, a lot.”

Mark doesn’t argue. Just leans back against the wall again, eyes flicking to you. Waiting.

Marky tugs lightly at your arm now. His hand is warm. Small. “I want you to come too.”

There’s a beat. A kind of silence that changes the shape of the air between all three of you.

Because it’s not just a child asking a question. It’s a child choosing sides.

It’s Marky saying this feels like family now.

You kneel to his height, gently brushing the edge of his blanket where it’s slipped from his grip.

“You sure you want me there?” you ask, soft.

He nods, serious. “You’re not like the others. You’re not mean when I’m loud. Or when I forget stuff. You don’t look at me like I’m gonna go bad just because I’m strong.”

Your throat tightens.

“I like how you talk to Dad,” he adds, more quietly. “Like he’s not just the Emperor.”

Behind you, Mark doesn’t speak. But you can feel the weight of his attention. The way he’s watching you like he’s afraid to blink.

You reach out and smooth a strand of Marky’s hair behind his ear. “If your dad says it’s okay... I’ll go.”

Marky looks up at his father. “Please?”

Mark pushes off the wall. Walks slowly toward both of you. He crouches beside Marky and lays a hand on his shoulder. “It was never a question.”

You glance up at him, eyes meeting his.

“I’d want her there too.”

Marky beams.

You rise slowly to your feet, and Marky immediately hugs your waist. He buries his face into your side like he’s done it a hundred times, like it’s home.

You look down, your hand resting gently on his hair, and for a moment you forget what it felt like to be foreign on this ship.

“You okay now?” you ask him softly.

He nods into your side. “Yeah.”

Mark steps closer behind you, his hand brushing the small of your back, grounding and real. You can feel the way he watches you, something silent and intense behind it. Gratitude. Maybe awe.

“I’ll set it up,” he says. “We’ll go soon.”

You glance back at him. “You sure?”

“No,” he admits. “But I want to be.”

Marky’s grip on you doesn’t ease. Not even a little.

You look at Mark, and your voice comes out low. “You’re not doing this alone anymore.”

Mark doesn’t smile. But his eyes do.

And when he places his hand over Marky’s back, his son held against your side, the three of you quiet in the corridor there’s something steady in him for the first time all night. Peace.

The hallway is still. The only sound is the gentle pulse of the ship’s systems, the quiet exhale of air cycling through the walls. Marky’s head is still pressed against your side, his breathing slowing now that he’s settled. It’s late. He should be asleep. But you don’t say anything.

Neither does Mark.

He stays close, his hand resting lightly on Marky’s back, his other brushing your waist. The contact is light but constant. Like if he lets go, it’ll all dissolve.

Your fingers smooth down Marky’s hair, but your eyes are on Mark. Watching him. Taking in the way he’s looking at the two of you, like he still doesn’t know if this is something he’s allowed to have.

The question’s been burning since dinner. Since Earth. Since Terra.

You speak softly. “Do you still love her?”

Mark’s eyes lift. Not with surprise. Not with panic. Just… stillness.

He doesn’t answer right away.

You wait.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he says after a long pause, his voice low. “It’s not like a switch flipped. It’s not like we stopped caring.”

You nod slowly. “That’s not what I asked.”

He looks at you fully then. Really looks. There’s no flinch in his gaze, no defensiveness. Just honesty.

“I’ll always love her,” he says. “In some way.”

The words sting. But not the way you expected.

Because they’re true. And gentle. And more than that, they don’t sound like a warning. They sound like a man who’s been trying to hold two truths at once.

“She’s the mother of my daughter. She’s been part of my life since I was a teenager. We grew up together. Saved people together. Lost things together. It’s impossible not to love someone like that.”

You nod once. It’s not jealousy you feel. Not really. It’s something older. Something quieter.

“But?” you ask.

Mark breathes out, tired. “But we weren’t good for each other anymore. And I think… we both knew that before we admitted it.”

He’s not justifying. He’s mourning. You hear it in the way his voice catches just slightly on before. Like he’s still unpacking the exact moment things started to drift.

“She deserved someone who could give her more than guilt and had no time for her,” he continues. “And I think I just kept trying to make it work because… it was easier than saying goodbye.”

You study him.

“You think she still loves you?” you ask.

Mark’s expression changes. His brow tightens. His jaw shifts.

“I think she’ll always care about me,” he says. “But no. I don’t think she’s in love with me. Not anymore.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Then. “Are you?”

Mark doesn’t hesitate this time. “No.”

That lands.

He says it without hesitation, but not without weight. Like he had to walk a long road to get to that clarity. And now that he’s there, it’s solid. Not cruel. Just final.

“I’ll always wish we could’ve given Terra something easier,” he adds. “But I’m not in love with Eve. Not the way I used to be. Not in the way she needs.”

You reach up, brushing a hand gently along his chest. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m not trying to.” He glances down at where Marky’s still clinging to you, already dozing. “But I think you deserve to know that you’re not a replacement. You’re not filling a space.”

Your breath catches slightly.

He steps closer. Not touching. Just standing near enough that you feel the shift in the air.

“You’re yours,” he says. “Not hers. Not anyone else’s shadow. And if I feel anything for you… it’s not because I miss her. It’s because I see you.”

The silence between you stretches again. This time warm. This time full.

“You feel something for me?” you ask, quietly. Not teasing.

He meets your gaze. His voice comes out steady.

“I think about you when I’m alone. I think about you when I make decisions. When I look at Marky, and wonder who I’m becoming, I think about how different I am when you’re here.”

You don’t move.

“Whatever this is,” he says, voice softer now, “it’s real. And it’s not a comparison.”

Your heart aches in a way that’s strangely good.

Marky murmurs something incoherent against your side. You look down, his arms are still wrapped around you, his face smushed into your stomach, clearly half-asleep now.

You smile.

Mark’s voice drops again, low and reverent.

“You’re already part of his life,” he says. “And… if you want to be part of mine, I want that.”

You lift your gaze to meet his. There’s something unspoken passing between you. Not a declaration. Not yet.

But the beginning of something undeniable.

“Then take me with you,” you whisper. “When you’re ready.”

“I will,” he says. “I promise.”

You reach out, gently threading your fingers through his. Marky still clings to you. Mark holds on.

And there, in the quiet corridor of a Viltrumite ship far from Earth, you realize something simple and terrifying and deeply human.

You’re not standing in someone else’s place.

You’re standing exactly where you were always meant to be.

Marky is completely asleep now. Arms tucked around your waist, cheek pressed soft against your side, warm and trusting. He’s gone boneless in that way only young children can, his breathing steady and deep, the kind of sleep that only comes when a child feels safe.

Mark hasn’t let go of your hand.

His thumb moves slowly across the back of it, more like he’s feeling for reassurance than offering it. You stand there in the quiet, still leaning against the corridor wall. Not talking. Just being. Just letting the gravity of the evening settle.

He hasn’t brought it up again. Not since before dinner.

But you know it’s still on his mind. The conversation he overheard with your father. The way his posture had changed the moment you walked into the dining chamber. The silence that had followed it. The way he’d tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, even though it clearly did.

You tilt your head, voice low. “You’re still thinking about it.”

Mark doesn’t pretend he isn’t. He just exhales through his nose and says, “Not thinking. Just… letting it replay.”

You glance up at him. “You already heard everything.”

“Not from you.”

You shift slightly, careful not to jostle Marky as he dozes. “You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time to explain. You started undressing me before I could finish a sentence.”

Mark’s mouth twitches. “Wasn’t trying to interrupt the part where you said no to Mer-Man.”

You smile, then soften. “Adam was speaking to me like I wouldn’t notice it was a set-up.”

Mark’s voice is dry. “I noticed.”

“I could tell.”

You shift your weight slightly, leaning more into him without meaning to.

“I won’t marry Mer-Man,” you say simply. “No matter how many times he asks. Even if my father makes it political. Even if it costs me something.”

His hand tightens around yours.

There’s a flicker of emotion that passes over Mark’s face, sharp, restrained, but unmistakable.

“I didn’t want to bring it up again tonight,” you say, “but you’ve been quiet since you heard it. I know you, Mark. You think I didn’t notice you barely touched your food?”

“I touched it.”

“You rearranged it.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath. But there’s no real amusement in it.

“You’re angry.”

“No,” he says, softly. “I’m not angry. I’m… afraid.”

That word lands heavier than any bitterness could have.

You turn to face him more fully. “Of what?”

“Of watching someone else get handed a future with you. Just because they came with a flag and a treaty.”

You stare at him.

Mark swallows hard, his eyes azure. “I’ve lost things before because I didn’t say what I wanted. Because I thought it would make me selfish. Or possessive. Or like my feelings weren’t enough to change the outcome.”

You don’t breathe.

“I don’t want to make that mistake with you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Even if I don’t have the right to stop you. Even if this whole thing with us is still new.”

You let the silence stretch. Not because you don’t know how to respond.

But because it’s sacred now.

Then you step closer.

“You’ve never been selfish with me,” you say. “Not once. Even when you wanted to be.”

He watches you, breath shallow. Waiting.

You glance down at Marky, still curled into your side, safe and warm, then back up at Mark.

“You think I’d let someone like Mer-Man tie me to a throne I don’t want, when this is what I’ve chosen instead?”

Mark stares at you like you’ve just disarmed him. Like you’ve slipped a blade between his armor and he doesn’t mind bleeding for it.

“You’ve already made your choice?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You nod.

“It’s not a title. Or a promise. Not yet. But I already wake up wondering if you’ve eaten. I already look at your son and think about what kind of peace he’ll need to become the man he’s meant to be. And I already know I’d burn ten alliances to the ground to stay here.”

Mark exhales, like he’s been holding that breath since before dinner.

And then he steps in, slow, careful, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I want you to stay,” he says. “Not for him. Not for the Empire. For me.”

You nod against him. “I already am.”

And when he kisses you, it’s not restrained this time. It’s quiet, but sure. Like something decided.

Like something won.

Marky shifts between you but doesn’t wake. His little arms still wrapped tight around your waist.

And you know, without a crown, without an oath, that this is the future you chose.

And it’s already yours.

Mark’s mouth lingers on yours a moment longer, heat and promise still warm in the space between your lips when he pulls back. His breath is shallow. His hand still rests at your hip. His forehead presses lightly to yours.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t have to.

The quiet says enough.

“Ugh,” comes a sleepy little groan from your waist. “Stop kissing her, Dad.”

You both freeze.

Marky’s voice is thick with sleep, slurred and muffled, but unmistakably smug in the way only half-asleep children can be. He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even open his eyes. But he shifts in your arms, burrowing closer to your side like he knows he’s being carried and intends to exploit the warmth for as long as possible.

Mark laughs softly under his breath. “You’re awake?”

“Kinda,” Marky mumbles, lips barely moving. “You’re loud.”

You stifle a smile. “You’re dramatic.”

“Still gross,” Marky mutters, curling further into you. “Tell him to stop.”

Mark raises a brow. “You didn’t complain about it this morning.”

“You didn’t do it this morning,” Marky counters, yawning through the words. “You were grumpy then.”

You and Mark both huff soft laughter. It’s so normal, this teasing. So ordinary. Domestic, even.

Marky hums as he starts to drift again, his limbs going heavy, his breathing slowing. He tugs your arm more securely over himself.

And then, half asleep, soft as a prayer, he murmurs, “’Night… Mommy…”

The world stops.

Not loudly. Not all at once. Just a subtle, suffocating stillness.

You go rigid.

So does Mark.

Marky doesn’t notice. His breathing evens out again immediately, completely unaware of what he’s said. Dreaming now. Safe. Small.

You look up at Mark.

He is stone.

Not cold.

Not angry.

But hollow. Closed. His eyes aren’t wide. They’re blank. His jaw has gone slack. His hand at your waist falls away, like it doesn’t belong there anymore.

You step back just slightly. “Mark…”

He doesn’t answer.

His eyes are still fixed somewhere that isn’t here. Not at you. Not even at Marky.

Just past.

You take a slow breath. “You know he didn’t mean it. He’s dreaming. He probably didn’t even know what he was saying.”

Mark’s silence is deafening.

“I’m not—” You pause. “I’m not trying to replace her. Whoever she was.”

That’s when he flinches. Just barely.

A flash of something, sharp, dark, buried deep.

Your heart tugs in your chest. “Mark…”

He shakes his head once, fast. Not violently, but with finality.

“It’s fine,” he says. Voice flat. “He’s tired. Doesn’t mean anything.”

You search his face. “It means something.”

His gaze finally meets yours. And it hits you like a punch.

That isn’t fear of losing you.

That isn’t softness.

It’s grief. It's shame.

And suddenly you know, this isn’t about you at all.

You step forward gently. “Mark, whatever this is, whatever you’re not saying, I’m not going to push. But you don’t have to shut me out like this.”

He closes his eyes.

“I just need a minute,” he mutters. 

You nod, even though every part of you wants to stay close.

Marky shifts again, murmuring something incoherent, head heavy on your shoulder.

Mark reaches for him, and you gently pass him over.

As soon as Mark’s arms wrap around his son, something tightens in his chest. You can see it, his jaw set, his body still too carefully, like he’s afraid he might break apart if he moves too naturally.

You watch him.

You feel it.

He’s not overwhelmed by love right now. He’s not afraid of stepping too far too soon.

He’s drowning in something he hasn’t told you.

“I’ll take him to bed,” he says again, not looking at you now.

You nod.

But you don’t move.

“Mark,” you say softly. “You don’t have to say anything. But just… look at me.”

He hesitates. Then finally lifts his eyes to yours.

There’s too much in them. Nothing like what was there minutes ago.

You reach out, brushing your fingers along his arm.

“I’m still here,” you whisper. “Even if you can’t say it.”

He nods, almost imperceptibly.

Then he turns, carrying Marky in his arms, shoulders high, spine rigid.

And as he walks down the corridor, you trail slightly behind, you realize the distance isn’t in his body.

It’s in his past. It’s in her. And you have no idea who she is. But you know now, whoever Marky’s mother was...She broke him in a way he never let heal.

The walk to Marky’s room is quiet.

Mark doesn’t speak, and you don’t try to fill the silence. You just stay close, your steps in rhythm with his. Marky is still fast asleep, limp in his father's arms, head tucked against Mark’s collarbone like he belongs there, which he does. But the warmth from earlier is gone. Mark carries his son like he’s protecting something fragile. Something that might vanish if he lets himself feel too much.

You watch him from the corner of your eye. The strong set of his jaw. The tight grip around Marky's back. The distance behind his gaze.

It’s not rejection. Not exactly.

But he’s behind glass now.

The doors to Marky's room hiss open and Mark walks in like he’s done this a thousand times. He has. You stay just outside the threshold as he settles the boy into the bed, shifting him gently onto the mattress. Marky rolls once in his sleep but doesn’t wake. He burrows into the pillow, fingers still clutching a corner of the blanket.

Mark kneels beside him, smoothing the covers. Then he stays there, crouched, staring down at his son for a long, quiet moment.

You don’t interrupt.

When he finally stands, he brushes a hand over Marky’s hair and crosses back to the door, stopping when he reaches you.

The lights dim automatically behind him.

He doesn’t speak.

You fall into step beside him, walking the long hallway toward your corridor. The ship is quiet at this hour, only the hum of life support and soft mechanical sounds echo around you. Everything about this feels suspended. Still.

It’s not until you reach your quarters that you stop.

You turn to him slowly. “You don’t have to stay long.”

He doesn’t answer.

His face is unreadable again, walls still up, even if his posture isn’t cold. Just restrained. His hands are at his sides, loose, but unmoving.

You study him for a moment. Then you take a chance.

You step in gently, resting your hands on his chest. Not pushing. Just touching. Letting him feel the weight of you there.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mark’s eyes flick down to your hands. His jaw twitches. His throat moves like he’s about to say something, something important, but it doesn’t come.

So you do something simple.

You rise onto your toes and press your lips to his.

Soft. Careful. Not demanding. Just offering.

But he doesn’t kiss you back.

Not harshly. Not like he’s disgusted or trying to push you away.

He just… doesn’t move.

And then, gently, almost apologetically, he reaches up and takes your wrists, pulling your hands away from his chest.

Your feet return to the floor.

You step back instinctively, blinking. “Mark—”

His voice is low. “Don’t.”

It’s not cruel. It’s not even sharp. But it stops you more than any shout would have.

He looks at you now. Really looks. And you can see it, that ache behind his eyes. That desperate want colliding with something heavier. Something he won’t name.

“I’m still here,” he says, like a vow. “I’m not walking away.”

“But you won’t let me in,” you say softly.

He says nothing.

Just stands there. Breathing slowly. Hands curling once at his sides.

You try again, quieter now. “Is it because of her?”

His silence is answer enough.

You swallow. “You don’t have to tell me. I won’t push. But I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t matter. That we don’t.”

His gaze drops. “You matter. You matter more than I know how to say.”

“Then let me touch you.”

He closes his eyes.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not right now.”

“Okay.”

The silence that follows is thick with all the things that want to be said but can’t be.

He doesn’t step back.

He doesn’t leave.

He just stands there, outside your door, staring at the floor. His body coiled. His hands trembling in the way only you would notice.

You step forward again. Not touching him. Not asking for more.

Just standing close enough that if he breaks, you’ll catch him.

“I’m going to bed,” you say gently. “You can stay if you want. Or not.”

He lifts his eyes slowly.

You offer him a soft look. “I won’t take it personally.”

He says nothing. But as you turn to go inside, he stays in the hallway. Not leaving.

Not ready.

Not yet.

And you close the door behind you, heart full of words he couldn’t say. But also of patience.

Because you’ve seen what grief looks like when it wears his face.

You don’t expect him to follow.

But he does.

The door hisses shut behind you both, and the air in your quarters shifts, quieter, heavier. Mark doesn’t speak right away. He lingers near the entrance like he’s deciding if he has the right to stay.

You give him space. You move through your nightly routine gently, without fanfare, slipping off your boots, unfastening your collar. You can feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t move.

When your fingers reach the hem of your top, you pause.

“I’ll change in the bathroom,” you murmur.

Mark’s voice comes low. “You don’t have to.”

You glance over.

He’s not trying to make it anything. His face is serious, tired, still shut tight, but not cold. Just… present.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you say.

“You don’t.”

That’s all. But it’s enough.

You nod once, and finish undressing in the room. Not to provoke. Not to seduce. Just to show him that you’re not afraid of his silence, or his pain. You change into soft sleepwear. He watches all of it without comment, but something in his posture loosen, just barely.

When you sit on the edge of the bed, he follows. You both stay quiet for a few moments.

Then he speaks.

“We need to talk.”

You glance at him, but don’t interrupt.

He looks down at his hands, knuckles flexing, as if trying to find the words somewhere in his palms.

“I haven’t told you much about Marky’s mom.”

You nod slowly. “No.”

He breathes in deep, lets it out slower.

You change without looking at him.

Not because you’re avoiding him, but because you know he needs the space. The quiet. The gentle pace of a moment that doesn’t demand anything from him. The low light softens the edges of your quarters. Your hands are steady, even as your chest aches.

He’s still sitting where you left him, at the edge of the bed, hunched forward slightly, elbows on his knees, like the weight of everything is finally pressing down hard enough to buckle him.

You wait.

You reach for his hand.

This time, he doesn’t flinch. He lets you take it, and his fingers wrap around yours like they’re trying to anchor themselves to something real.

Mark doesn’t move for a long time.

Just sits there, hands clasped between his knees, gaze fixed on the floor like the words are buried somewhere in the floor. You stay beside him, silent, letting the space hold him until he’s ready.

And eventually, he speaks.

“Eve had just left me.”

You blink. Your stomach tightens.

“I was gone for months,” he says. “She had enough.”

You wait. Let him keep going.

You watch his face. He’s not smiling. Just… remembering. Carefully. Like it hurts.

“I was broken,” he says. “Not just tired. Broken. Eve didn’t want me around. I can’t blame her. I wasn’t what she needed. But hearing her say it—after everything—”

His voice catches. You don’t interrupt.

“I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to leave, not really. But I couldn’t stay. So I flew.”

He breathes in through his nose. Slow. Controlled. Like he's bracing.

“And then… she was there.”

You don’t have to ask who.

“Marky’s mother, Anissa,” he says quietly. “I didn’t hear her land. I didn’t feel her coming. She was just there.”

His fists tighten, knuckles pale.

“She didn’t explain. Didn’t ask. Just said I was strong. That I should understand what that meant.”

He finally looks up at you, and the pain in his eyes is bottomless.

“ I tried to fight her at first, but later I didn’t stop her. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I couldn’t move. I was so tired, so far gone I thought maybe this was just… one more thing to survive.”

He exhales through his teeth. “Afterward, I told people who asked that it was nothing. I told that lie so many times it started sounding like the truth.”

You reach for his other hand.

He lets you take it. No hesitation this time.

“I told Eve eventually,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to. I was crying, shaking. I said her name and Eve just… sat with me. She didn’t press. She just held me while I broke.”

Your heart aches.

“I think she already knew something was wrong,” he says. “She said we’d get through it together.”

“And your parents?” you ask, softly.

Mark nods. “My dad found out later. I lied to him at first too. Said it was nothing. He didn’t believe me.”

You stay still.

“I had slammed her against a wall because I was angry. He looked at me, and I think he saw everything. Every part of it I couldn’t say. Things I didn’t say.”

Mark's jaw tightens.

“When we saw her again, he had her in a chokehold. He would’ve killed her if I hadn’t told him to stop.”

You nod. “Good.”

Mark looks at you, startled.

“I’m glad he was furious,” you say. “I’m glad someone knew what it was and didn’t pretend it was complicated.”

Mark looks down again. “I still told everyone else nothing happened.”

“Because you were protecting yourself,” you say. “Because you were trying to survive.”

His voice is hoarse now. “That’s the part I can’t let go of.”

“You don’t have to yet.”

You shift closer. Let your shoulder press into his. Let your hand stay wrapped around his.

He leans his head forward until your foreheads rest together. His eyes are closed, but his breath stumbles.

“When Marky called you that,” he says, barely audible, “I felt like I was back there again. Useless. Frozen. Like I didn’t deserve anything good.”

Your throat tightens. “You do.”

He doesn’t speak.

You say it again. “You do, Mark.”

And slowly, you feel the tension leave his hand. Not all of it. But enough to know he’s listening.

You stay like that. Silent. Close. Breathing the same air.

He doesn’t cry.

But he lets himself be held.

You lie on your side, facing each other, bodies barely an arm’s length apart.

The lights have dimmed to a soft gold glow. It doesn’t feel like a battlefield here. It doesn’t feel like a throne room or a ship or the cold silence between stars.

It feels like a secret. One that neither of you wants to break.

Mark speaks first.

“Did you always want to be a warrior?”

You don’t answer right away. Your fingers curl slightly against the blanket between you. You breathe in. Let it out slowly.

“No.”

Mark’s brows rise a little.

You meet his gaze. “I was chosen.”

He goes still. Not because he doesn’t believe you but because he does.

“The Sword of Protection chose me before I understood what it meant,” you continue. “Before I’d ever seen real blood. Before I knew what it felt like to kill.”

Mark’s eyes don’t leave yours.

“My brother, Adam… he was chosen too. By the Sword of Power. We both carry pieces of something ancient. Something we never asked for. Something that doesn’t care if you’re tired. Or scared.”

Mark is quiet. Listening like it’s holy.

“I didn’t ask for this body. This strength. I didn’t want to be the one people bowed to in war councils before I knew how to hold eye contact.”

Your throat tightens, but you keep your voice steady.

“I wanted to ride horses and sneak sweets from the kitchen and learn the names of the constellations that aren’t on maps.”

He’s so close you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“Instead, I learned how to break bones before I learned how to dance.”

Mark’s voice is quiet now. “You never had a choice.”

You shake your head. “None of us did. Not me. Not Adam. Not even the Sorceress. That castle doesn’t pick warriors because they’re ready. It picks them because they’re needed.”

He shifts a little closer. Not touching. Just near. “But you stayed.”

“I stayed because the sword didn’t go quiet after I drew it. Because people kept pointing me at problems and expecting me to survive them.”

Mark breathes in like the air just turned heavier.

“And now?” he asks. “Do you still want it?”

You’re quiet a moment.

“I don’t know who I’d be without it.”

Mark’s expression softens in a way you haven’t seen before. Not just sympathy. Not admiration. Something else.

Recognition.

He says, “You were made into something powerful. But no one stopped to ask if you wanted to be it.”

You nod. “Exactly.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Just breathes beside you. 

“You’re not what they made you.”

You blink. “No?”

“You’re what you chose to become after.”

The quiet between you isn’t empty now. It’s full. Of unsaid things. Of mutual understanding.

Mark shifts closer again, his voice softer now. “I want to know more.”

“About me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Not just your title. You.”

You smile. “Okay.”

You talk a little longer. He tells you about the first time he flew so fast he passed out in the sky. You tell him about the first time Castle Grayskull showed you a vision in your dreams and you woke up crying.

He shifts to face you more fully.

“Was there anyone for you?” he asks. “Even once?”

You smile faintly, surprised by how gentle the question feels in his mouth. Like he’s not jealous. Just curious.

“There was a man,” you say, voice low. “When I was younger. Before the sword chose me. His name was Bow.”

Mark raises a brow. “Bow?”

You nod, amused. “Yes. He was… bright. Kind. A bit dramatic. Had a tendency to take his shirt off when it wasn’t necessary.”

Mark snorts quietly. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“I had a baby crush,” you admit. “I didn’t understand it at the time. It just felt like gravity.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say. “The sword came. Grayskull whispered, and I stopped seeing him as a boy with kind eyes and started seeing everyone as someone I might have to bury one day.”

Mark looks at you carefully.

Mark exhales like it hits deeper than he expected.

You lie there in silence after that. Breathing. Not asleep. Just being.

Not a warrior.

Not the Emperor.

Just two people, lying side by side in the quiet, trying to remember what it feels like to be known without fear as you two begin to sleep.

✮♛ ♚✮⋆˙

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[zapernz]

imagine sam folding and being subby for his overly girly and cutesy girlfriend after she ask’s nicely :)))

obey

warnings: nipple play, biting, dry humping

“please, cmon, you always take the lead.. why can’t i for once?” you plead to sam, propped up against the headboard, holding your thighs while you straddle him. he sighs “i dunno princess, will you be able to? what if you don’t like it? shouldn’t we talk about it more?” he tilts his head to the side as he questions you.

you squirm on his lap making his thought to tell you ‘no’ dwindle away. “please sam, please, please, it’ll be so good, promise!” you plead again, still squirming in his lap. his hands move from your thighs to your hips to stop the unintentional grinding on his dick. he groans “y’gotta stop movin like that baby, uh- so what, you want to be a dom now or something?” he smirks teasing you.

getting antsy you start trying to squirm against the hold he has on you, “sam, cmon just let me try, cmon pretty please?” you whine. your grinding on his dick in just the right way, he’s just a man, and fuck it’s hard to turn this down, and honestly all logic flew out the window the moment your hips started moving on him. he squeezes your hips encouragingly, “alright you have me, do as you want.” he sighs in defeat.

you move his hands off your hips, with a stutter from him, he was going to open his mouth and ask you what you’re doing. but you’re in charge so he lets you move his hands above his head. “keep them there, no touching.” you say. he blinks at you in disbelief, “no touching?!” he exclaims. he loves touching you, feeling your warm body, memorising every curve and dip.

“you heard me.” you say with an odd stern tone to your voice. sam huffs a noise of semi approval. you move your hands under his shirt, slowly touching, trying to memorise him, as he had you. he groans when your fingers brush lightly over his nipples, and unexpectedly pinch them hard, making a loud noise of surprise. “fuck! what the fuck!?” you chuckle, “y’know it feels good baby, trust me.” he opens his mouth but shuts it, the way you’re talking sends a shiver if anticipation down his spine, and makes his dick twitch uncomfortably in his pants.

your feverish hands move quickly to take his shirt off and latch your lips onto one of the sensitive buds, his hips unintentionally buck up and he stiffles a moan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. removing your mouth, while on the way to the other, you mumble “sensitive boy huh? who would’ve guessed.”

at this he whines. a pathetic, pitiful whine, you’ve never heard something like that from him, and were determined to get more. you latch your mouth onto the other bud, nipping every so often, making him writhe and squirm.

you take your mouth off of him replacing it with your fingers. teasing and pinching at them, you strategically place your knee in between his legs, settling right where his aching dick rested.

he immediately starts bucking his hips to finally get the friction he’d be so desperately trying to acquire. “ohhh fuckk” he moans out loudly. you watch him, as your usually dominant, fucking-you-until-you-scream-boyfriend, has his hands obediently above his head, his nipples being pinched and played with, and bucking against your knee like a rabid dog.

you try experimentally pinching a bit harder, making his gasp and bite his lip, “fuck- yeah like that- hard!” he barely manages to make out through the moans. you moved your lips down to his neck, sucking harshly, not just nipping, but biting, your teeth sinking into his skin, every bite makes him let out a guttural moan if pure pleasure and ecstasy.

moving down to his collarbones, repeatedly sinking your teeth into the flesh, leaving your mark all over him, unable to be hidden. his erratic hips buck up against your knee, the confinement of his jeans making him get closer and closer to the edge. he can feel the coil, but the pleasure is to immense, he can’t even form a word or sentence, just moans, whines and whimpers. he just needs something to throw him over the edge.

and then you do it.

smirking to yourself, you move your mouth down to one of his nipples, lightly sucking at first, but then all of a sudden, you bite it, hard. and thats what did it. his hips are stuttering, his breathy moans are constant, as you pull back you watch as the orgasm washes over him.

slowly he comes down, his hips slowing down and eventually stopping, his breathing becoming more steady, and moans turn into pants.

“holy fuck” he sighs, covering his face with his hands.

[slowdrawl]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader|

| 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist}

Chapter 10: Dirty Laundry | wordcount |4k| {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

| a/n | our girl is spiraling, joel is spiraling, everything is getting sloppier and riskier. this one's a slow descent ... hope you like messy. sorry this took a while, I've been putting it off idk.

“I think we should talk about what we’re fuckin’ doing.”

reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory chapter warnings under the cut.

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, SMUT, phone call tension, Joel being absolutely unhinged, dry humping/grinding, fingering, oral (f!receiving), possessive Joel, protective Joel, guilt, lying, gaslighting (lightly lol), Tommy being a menace, blackmail threats, risky sex, voyeurism mentions, emotional damage, slow-burn spiraling, power imbalance, reader gets overwhelmed, mild panic attack, heavy foreshadowing.. series warnings after the fic.

Your phone buzzes on the table. You turn your head. 'Dad' flashes on the screen, an incoming call.

Fuck me, not now.

Joel’s lips curl, and something more sinister floods his pupils, something wicked. “Answer it, Bird.”

You hesitate, breath hitching. Two fingers slide down through your seam, barely dipping into the pool of slick settled between your thighs. He plunges them in, rough, and growls—really fucking growls.

“Answer the phone.”

He moves his mouth down to the mark on your collar and bites, sucking hard for only a second before he moves off you entirely, leaving you feeling empty. He reaches down to the table, grabs your phone, and hits accept with the slide of one of his fingers, still wet from you. You swallow hard. “Hey Dad, how’s Dallas?” Joel slips one hand back down, landing heavy on your thigh. “It’s been a nightmare, Bird. Shouldn’t be too much longer, hopefully,” his voice is tired. “You holdin’ up alright? Gary texted me last night, said Joel n’ Tommy were at each other's throats.”

You wipe your palms on the cushion, then put the phone on speaker and place it behind you on the arm of the couch with shaking hands. 

There’s simply no way in hell you’ll be able to keep your breathing steady enough for your dad to stay oblivious to what’s happening in his living room right now. You’re sure he’d be able to hear your heart beating through the phone.

Joel grins and trails his fingers back to the fabric between your thighs. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, mouth right beside your ear, cooing, “You gonna let me touch you while you talk to your daddy?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Fine. Lazy morning.” Joel shifts down the couch, sliding off the cushions and onto his knees in front of you, quiet and deliberate. “Same old shit, you know them. Tom was drunk, and didn’t want to go home, it was stupid.”

Your dad just hums on the other end and continues, “Sounds like it was more than that. Gary said Joel decked him. What really happened, Bird?”

You’re trying to pay attention to the conversation your dad is having with you. You really are. But all of your attention is stuck on Joel. He grabs your hand and coaxes you to sit up, spinning you so you’re seated properly.

Your breath hitches as he drops down closer, placing both of his big hands on the tops of your thighs. Your fingers scramble for something to hold. Fabric, skin, anything—you come up empty.

“Just a dumb fight, Dad. Tommy pissed him off… you know how they get,” you manage, voice a little shaky. Joel pulls your shorts down, forcing a gasp out of you. He reaches his hand to your mouth, silencing you for just a moment.

Your dad sighs, slow and heavy. “You sure that’s all it was?”

Joel pushes your legs open, his palms firm but gentle, grounding. You barely nod, phone just behind you. His breath is hot and damp between your thighs.

“Yeah,” you choke out, voice thin, fluttery. “I’m sure.”

Your dad pauses. “You okay? You sound kinda…off.”

Joel hums against your inner thigh. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a sound. His mouth is warm, stubble rough, lips dragging slow.

“M’fine,” you whisper, barely audible, praying the phone’s mic doesn’t catch the quiver in your voice. “Just woke up from a nap, tired.”

He pulls back, just enough to glance up at you, eyes gleaming. He mouths, ‘liar’, and presses a kiss to your knee like he’s proud of himself.

“Alright,” your dad says, still unconvinced. “Well... I should be home by tomorrow night. You need anything, just call.” he sighs on the other end of the phone, “and stay away from Tommy till I get back. I fuckin’ mean it.”

Joel’s tongue slides between your folds, dragging upwards. Once he reaches your clit he hovers there, looks you dead in the eyes as he starts to flick his tongue. You slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide. He groans, low and deep, muffled by your thighs clenching around his head. His movements are slow, and purposeful, like he’s savoring you.

“I will,” you whisper. “Love you Dad.”

“Love you most,” your dad replies, and the line clicks dead.

The moment the call ends, you reach behind you to make sure he’s gone. Then drop the phone onto the floor like it’s burned you. Your body is trembling, skin prickling with sweat, dripping down your back, behind your knees.

But Joel doesn’t stop.

His mouth is relentless. Tongue flattening, curling, sucking against your clit like he’s trying to brand you with it. You’re already shaking, thighs locked, moaning his name like it’s a secret slipping out over and over again. “You really just let me do that,” he mutters, voice muffled still, reverent. “While your daddy was on the phone”

You can’t even speak. You just reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, yanking hard, hips rolling without a shred of shame.

“You’re a sick fuck,” you gasp.

He laughs into you, dark and smug. “Maybe I am” he hums, “I think you fuckin’ love it though.”

Your hands are still tangled in his hair, tugging, trembling. He lets rock against his mouth, you’re grinding down onto him like he’s some kind of altar. Something sacred to press your sins into. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in concentration. He looks content, focused, and determined.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna come” He opens his eyes and looks up at you, half-lidded, pupils blown. He lets off of you just long enough to say, “Yeah baby? You wanna come on my tongue?”

He groans against you, the sound rough and wrecked, and it tips you over the edge. “Let me feel you then, I’ve got you.”

It rips through you fast. Sharp and wild. Your whole body twitching, back arching, breath stuttering as you come undone. He holds you there, mouth still locked to you, swallowing every wave of it, dragging it out of you until you’re gasping and trying to squirm away from him.

He doesn’t let you.

“Joel,” you whimper, voice cracked open. “Too much”

He finally pulls back, lips shiny with you, and looks up.

Smirking. Ruined. Eyes dark as night, pupils blown.

“I’ll never get tired of that.” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s tasting victory. “You’re so… so fuckin’ pretty, angel.” Something flutters in your chest when he says it. You’re still sprawled on the edge of the couch, legs slack and vibrating. You’re still panting. But your head is spinning with a cocktail of guilt and relief and something too big to name right now.

He climbs up your body, planting kisses up your stomach, between your breasts, over the hickey he left earlier. You feel him hard against your thigh. Still in his jeans. Still holding back.

“You didn’t—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, lazy and deep.

“Ain’t about that,” he says, nuzzling into your neck. “You needed it. I could fuckin’ feel it radiating off you.” He sits down beside you leaning back into the cusion, head tilted with a lazy grin stretched across his flushed face. He’s looking at you like he didn’t just tongue you through a panic attack, then he just reaches for his coffee again like he’s in a goddamn Folgers commercial.

You swallow hard, blinking up at the ceiling.

“I shouldn’t have let you,” you say.

He stiffens, his face twists into something you havent seen. It’s like he doesn’t know how to react to you being the one to pull away. He looks hurt, maybe even scared.

You look at him. “I wanted to. That’s not what I mean. But. My dad. Sarah. Tommy. That fucking picture.”

Joels’ brows furrow, he looks at you confused now.

“What picture.” “Oh, fuck. I forgot to tel—” “Tell me what.” He says, voice stern, cutting you off. You lean over and grab your phone off the hardwood. You tap the screen awake and put your password in before tossing the phone on Joel’s lap. You watch him clench his teeth, you see the anger radiate right up his neck, flushing the tips of his ears. The air changes. Charges. “I’ll deal with it, don’t worry.” He says, turning your phone off. You don’t believe him, but you want to.

You both just sit there in the silence, the air still thick with everything that just happened, what you saw. The living room still smells like coffee and sweat and Joel.

You tug your shorts back up, thighs still trembling, skin sticky from where he kissed you, not meeting his eyes.

“I think we should talk about what we’re fuckin’ doing” you mumble.

Joel exhales. Loud. He sits up and grabs his mug off the table.

“Yeah, probably” he says. “But not today.” You nod, even though you’re unsure of what you’re agreeing to.

Not today.

You try to sit up, gather your thoughts. Don’t succeed at either.

He nudges your foot with his knee. “So,” he says casually, like he doesn’t still taste you. Like the air didn’t just turn cold. “We gonna talk about Sarah’s party or just keep nearly getting caught in your dad’s living room?”

You blink at him. “Now? That’s your segue?”

“Timing’s everything, kid,” he mutters around a sip, then leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “She’s gonna be back Sunday. We got what? Less than a week? I was thinkin’ we could do something small, nothin’ stupid. Grillin’, music, just her people. You gonna help out or what?”

You nod, still a little dazed. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

He watches you, serious now. “You okay?”

You want to say yes. You want to say no. Instead, you curl your legs up onto the couch and mumble, “Tommy has a photo of you. Through the fuckin’ window. And you seem pretty chill about it.”

Joel freezes. The silence slams back into the room.

“I’m not. He’s a fuckin’ creep for it, but I’ll handle it” he mutters eventually, setting the mug down hard enough to clink. “You tell anyone about it?”

“No, who the fuck would I tell, when would I have had time?.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ve got it under control.”

That’s all he says about it.

He stands, stretching with a grunt, bones cracking like firewood. He grabs his flannel from the back of the couch, shrugs it on over your dads stolen Grizzlies tee.

“I’m gonna go grab groceries and a case of beer or two. Make sure everything’s stocked before your dad rolls in.” He pauses. “If you hear from him, let me know. I don’t want him thinkin’ I’m avoidin’ him.”

You nod again, too many thoughts swimming in your brain. Joel leans over, and kisses your forehead like it’s second nature. Like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just fingerfuck you through a speakerphone call with his best friend.

“Be back soon, Birdie.”

The door shuts behind him. He’s gone.

And you sit there trying to decide if your hands are shaking from what just happened—or maybe from what’s bound to.

The room’s still warm from him. Smells like him. You can hear the rumble of his truck fade down the street.

You stare at the coffee table. His mug. Your phone. A crumpled napkin. The weight of what just happened is still heavy in your chest, but it’s not the only thing making it hard to breathe.

You scan the room paranoid. That Joel’s still there, that Tommy’s around the corner. That your dad’s home. Your eyes land on something near the base of the stairs.You spot it suddenly near the base of the stairs. Joel’s flask, right where it must’ve rolled last night. How the hell didn’t you see it earlier? Shiny. Innocent-looking. But it’s not. It’s damning. It’s evidence. You forgot about it until now, and your heart kicks.

You leap off the couch and scoop it up fast, fingers fumbling. You hesitate for a second—where the hell should you put it? The coffee table drawer? No, too obvious. You end up tucking it into the drawer in the entryway table. The one with old keys and batteries and ballpoint pens that don’t work. Out of sight, not out of mind. You’ll deal with it later.

You’re still buzzing, brain moving in five directions at once. The picture. Tommy. Joel’s mouth on you, his name on yours. Your dad’s voice in your ear. Joel leaving like nothing happened. Again.

Your fingers twitch around your phone.

You call the only person who won’t judge you—at least not out loud.

Karlie picks up on the second ring. “Babe! Oh thank God, what the hell happened? Liam said there was blood, and Tommy was loaded, and—”

“I’m so fucked,” you blurt out.

She pauses. “Okay. Start from the top.”

You drag your knees up onto the couch and curl around yourself. “Joel and Tommy got into it. At the bar. Over me.”

“Oh my fucking GOD.”

“Yeah. And now I’m…” you groan, covering your face. “I’m fucked. I’m fucking Joel”

“WHAT.”

“I know.”

She’s practically screaming through the phone, “You mean like, you’re fucking-fucking Joel… or like you kissed him and now you’re spiraling?”

“Fucking-fucking. Well… yeah no I am. It’s worse somehow. It’s like... fuck, Karlie, it’s so bad. It’s so good, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I like him”

You explain everything. Him taking you home the other night, how he kissed you. The broken A/C. The barfight. The fallout. The couch. The fucking call with your dad. Joel taking your dads shirt. Tommy’s picture.

Karlie’s quiet for a second. Then, “Okay. First of all? That’s insane. Like, Jersey Shore insane. Second? Are you okay, baby?”

You nod, even though she can’t see it. “I don’t know. I think so. But he. Joel left. Again. Said he had to go get groceries like this is normal. Like it’s fine.”

Karlie exhales. “Okay, well. You need to breathe. He’s still gone?”

“Yeah. For now.”

“Good. Clean yourself and the house up. Burn the place down. I don’t know. Just—don’t let your fucking dad find anything.”

You glance at the table again. The coffee mugs. The air still thick with sweat and adrenaline. The drawer by the stairs hiding a very stupid, very incriminating silver flask. Why didn’t I put it somewhere smarter? Like under my mattress, or buried in the fuckin’ yard? 

Fuck

Too late.

You hear a car engine outside. You freeze.

Karlie’s still talking, but you can’t hear her.

You crawl to the window and peek through the blinds. A familiar shape. Familiar headlights.

Your dad’s home. “Too late.” You hang up.

Everything inside you goes very, very still.

He’s early.

And he wasn’t supposed to be.

He’s onto you.

//// Kev grips the wheel tighter than he probably needs to. He left Dallas just after lunch, didn’t even tell the crew goodbye, didn’t bother finishing the coffee he’d let go cold on the hotel nightstand. Just packed the truck and hit the road like something was chasing him. Or like he was chasing something he couldn’t name.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he’s just been gone too long. Maybe he just misses his house. His bed. His kid. So he drove the three hours home like the place was on fire. There was just something about her voice this morning. That pause. That breath she took before answering. The way she didn’t say Joel’s name when she mentioned the fight.

Tommy and Joel, at each other’s throats at Sam’s. That’s what Gary had said. Over something personal. She was there with him. Joel threw the first punch, which didn’t sit right with him. Joel didn’t start shit. Not unless he was pushed too far.

And Tommy, well—fucking Tommy’s been an asshole since high school.

Still, he’s never liked being out of town when things go sideways. And something is fucking sideways. He just doesn’t know how bad.

He shifts in the seat, thumb tapping the steering wheel as he turns onto his street, every instinct in him pacing like a caged dog. He raised her, he knows when she’s lying. He knows when something’s wrong.

And something feels wrong.

He pulls into the driveway. Joel’s truck isn’t there. That should ease his mind. It should. It desn’t.

He cuts the engine, grabs the pizza box from the passenger seat—extra cheese, her favorite. He climbs the porch steps. The door’s unlocked. Not unusual, but still, it makes his gut tighten.

He tells himself to relax.

But his hand lingers on the doorknob just a second longer than usual.

He steps inside. ////

The front door creaks open and your stomach drops straight through the floor.

You fumble to set your phone down, Karlie’s voice still buzzing on speaker, but you barely hear it over the sudden spike in your pulse. You swipe the screen to hang up and toss the phone face-down on the couch just as your dad steps through the doorway, pizza box in hand.

You freeze. Hold your breath. Like if you don’t move maybe he won’t see it on you.

He glances around the room, eyes sweeping from the couch to the table to the stairs. His expression is calm, but it’s the kind of calm that sits on top of suspicion like a lid on a boiling pot. You force yourself to smile.

“Hey,” you say, trying to sound surprised, not panicked. “Y’all wrap up early?”

He exhales like he’s been holding it in since Fort Worth. “Didn’t like the vibe you gave me this morning. Thought I’d make it back for dinner.”

You nod, arms crossed tight. “What do you mean by that?”

“Didn’t feel like waiting.”

He walks into the kitchen, looking around slowly like he’s investigating. He opens the fridge without looking at you again. The pizza lands on the counter. You sit back down, try to blend into the cushions like you’ve been there all day, just not getting eaten out by his bestie.

“Everything good?” he asks, tone too casual.

“Yeah,” you lie, eyes on your knees. “Just caught up on laundry. Talked to Karlie for a bit.”

He grabs a beer, cracks it open with one hand. “Joel been by today?”

You hesitate. Only for a second—but you know it’s too long. You shake your head. “No. Probably with Tommy or something.”

“After the shit they pulled last night?”

You shrug, twisting your fingers in your lap. “Maybe they made up. I don’t know.”

Before he could probe further, the sound of Joel’s truck rolling up the driveway cut in like a blade.

You jump up, moving fast toward the window. Sure enough, he’s out there, striding up to the porch with his flannel wide open, the fucking Grizzlies logo on your dads shirt bold as hell against his chest.

Your stomach twists. You finally make eye contact through the glass, panic written all over your face. You mouth, ‘do it up.’

Joel blinks, then thankfully, he catches on. He starts buttoning the flannel. Quick, getting it most of the way up before the front door opens.

He steps inside like nothing’s wrong, just another night. Six-pack of Bud in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. “Hey man!” he says, smooth and easy. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be back yet.”

Your dad turns, eyes dropping to Joel’s chest. His brows pinch. “Is that my—” he starts, but stops himself when Joel looks genuinely confused. He doesn’t finish the sentence, just studies the logo peeking above the top button, then lets it go.

Joel holds up the beer like a peace offering. “Figured I’d stock the fridge, make sure everything’s set for Sarah’s party. Birdie and I were talkin’ about ideas earlier.”

Your dad’s jaw tightens slightly. “Earlier today?”

Joel shakes his head, casual as hell. “Nah, when you left.” She mentioned maybe planning to do something lowkey. I stayed a minute after fixin’ the AC, remember?”

You nod quickly, jumping in on the lie. “Yeah. That was it.”

Dad doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look convinced either.

Joel steps further inside, heading toward the kitchen with a grocery bag slung over one wrist. “Cool if I wash up?”

Your dad jerks his chin in a half-nod. “You know where the can is.”

Joel disappears upstairs, and you exhale the breath you’ve been holding. Your dad’s still watching the stairs when he opens the fridge again, unloading the groceries one by one. Upstairs, you hear drawers opening, a closet creak. He must be changing. Hiding the evidence.

You sit back down, trying to act like nothing’s wrong. Like everything’s fine. Like Joel didn’t pin you to the goddamn couch earlier.

A few minutes go by, and Joel comes back down still in the flannel, but now it’s hanging over one of your old oversized t-shirts. Plain, clean. Safe. The Grizzlies shirt? Gone.

Your dad doesn’t look at him. He just grabs a slice of pizza and leans back in his chair.

“Think Sarah’s gonna lose her mind over a party,” he asks.

Joel grins, settling beside him. “That’s the idea.”

They fall into talk, half-hearted and easy. You tune it out, eyes flicking to the stairs.

Up there, the laundry pile sits by the bedroom door. At the very top. Black cotton, teal print.

You don’t know if Joel folded it or just tossed it back up there, but it’s right fucking there.

And when your dad finally stands and stretches, heading down the hall to toss his travel clothes into the laundry basket, you already know how this ends.

There’s a pause.

Then. “I don’t remember wearin’ this.”

You go still, ice flooding your veins.

Dad walks back into the living room, holding the Grizzlies shirt in his hand. Joel’s eyes flick to it once, then away.

Your dad narrows his eyes, quiet.

But he doesn’t say a word.

Just drops the shirt on the entryway table. He walks into the kitchen and grabs a new beer from the fridge without looking at either one of you. He strolls back in. Sits back down.

Watching Joel the whole time he chews. Slow.

And Joel? Doesn’t flinch.

Dad leans back in his chair, cracking the beer like the tension in the room isn’t thick enough to choke on.

“Some jackass in Dallas tried to put gutters in backward,” he mutters. “Swear to God. Downspouts pointing up. Whole system was dumping water back into the walls. Had the nerve to tell me it ‘looked cleaner that way.’”

Joel snorts. “You fix it?”

Dad shrugs. “Told him I’d fix it after I fire his contractor. Guy looked like he wanted to cry.”

Joel chuckles, low in his chest. “World’s full of fuckin’ dumbasses.”

“Damn straight,” he mutters, taking a long sip. He glances at Joel, then at you, like he’s chewing on something else—but he lets it sit. For now.

Joel stands finally. He turns to you and says “I’ll swing back tomorrow. We’ll go over the rest of the party stuff then. Okay kiddo?” Your throat goes tight, anger, anxiety. Mostly anger. Kiddo? You have got to be fucking joking.

Your dad looks over at him and nods once. “See you tomorrow, thanks for the beers man.”

Joel meets your eyes. Brief. Gone in a blink.

Then he’s at the door, pulling it open like he hasn’t just danced through landmines all afternoon. His boots hit the porch, the door clicks shut behind him, and his truck rumbles to life a minute later, then shuts off quickly as he parks next door.

Your dad doesn’t ask you questions anymore. Doesn’t bring back up the bar. He doesn’t mention the shirt. But the look in his eyes tells you he’s onto you both.

series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, grinding, spit, cumplay, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, infidelity/implied, semi-public sex, breeding kink lowkey, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115 @mystickittytaco @your-nightmaredoll @leenieweenie12 @orodaeh @jokesonthem

[worlds-we-write]

Shelter in the Storm

Chapter 8: The Warmth That Stays

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!reader summary: A fall, a fear, a hand held steady. You begin to understand what it means to stay—and what it means when someone stays with you. WC: 7.3K tags: Joel Miller x Reader, Jackson era, slow burn, hurt/comfort, trauma recovery, emotional baggage, found family, protective Joel Miller, reader is a survivor, reader has PTSD, past hostage situation (implied), PREGNANCY reveal, soft moments in a harsh world, Joel cares in his own way™, gentle intimacy, angst with hopeful undertones, canon-typical violence (referenced), no smut (yet).

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The morning light came in slow.

Not through your window—Joel’s. The curtains were heavier than yours, but a narrow seam let just enough in for the soft glow to stretch across the quilt, warming the edge of the bed. It crept in carefully, like it didn’t want to wake either of you.

But you were already awake.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. Not out of fear or pain—just out of quiet disbelief.

Joel’s arm was still draped over your waist, his hand resting where it had landed the night before: over your belly. His palm was warm, fingers slightly curled, as if he’d stayed that way even in sleep. Like his body knew what his mind hadn’t said aloud yet—that he didn’t want to let go.

Your own hand rested lightly over his.

Not because you needed to.

Because you wanted to.

The weight of him was comforting in a way you hadn’t known you needed. Steady. Assured. The opposite of the panic that had lived in your chest for so long. There was nothing urgent about this. Nothing forced.

You watched him for a while. His face was soft in sleep. No tension between his brows. No tightness in his jaw. He looked younger like this, though the gray in his hair told the truth his skin tried to forget. Peace looked good on him. You wondered if he ever got to feel it.

The rhythm of his breath was slow, measured. You matched yours to it instinctively, grounding yourself in the quiet beat of the moment.

Your eyes drifted back to his hand. Still there. Still warm.

Something stirred deep in your chest—unfamiliar and fragile. Not dread. Not fear.

Hope.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t take over. But it was there, undeniable as the morning light creeping further across the bed.

You didn’t know what this meant.

You didn’t know what last night had changed—if it had changed anything at all. There hadn’t been any declarations, no late-night promises whispered against your skin. Just warmth. Just the safety of letting yourself be held.

And now… this.

You shifted slightly, just enough to test the space between you, just enough to be sure it was real.

Joel stirred at the movement. His brows drew together, not in tension, but in that groggy confusion that came with waking somewhere warm and unfamiliar.

His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dim light. When he saw you, still close, still there, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

He just breathed in deep and exhaled slow.

“Mornin’,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His eyes dipped down briefly to where your hand still covered his. He didn’t move it. Didn’t shift away.

“You sleep alright?”

You nodded. “Better than I expected.”

He gave a small hum—approval, maybe. Or something softer. “Good.”

Neither of you moved for a while. There was no urgency. No guilt. Just the hush of two people sharing something unspoken and not ready to define it yet.

Eventually, he gave your hand a small squeeze. Not a question. Not a promise.

Just this.

And when he finally got up to start the day, you found yourself watching the place his hand had been, warmth still lingering there like a mark.

Not a scar.

A spark.

You didn’t leave Joel’s cabin right away.

There was coffee first. Strong and too dark, the way he liked it. He poured you a cup before his own. Didn’t say anything about it—just placed it on the table with a quiet sort of ease, like he was used to doing it. Like maybe this had already become a habit.

You drank it in silence, the two of you standing near the counter, shoulders occasionally brushing when one of you shifted. There wasn’t a rush. There wasn’t awkwardness, either. Just the kind of quiet that happens when two people have already said everything important without speaking.

Later, you stepped out onto the porch with him.

The morning air was cold but not sharp. The sky had gone pale with cloud cover, snow clinging to the edges of roofs and fences. You tugged your coat tighter around your body and stood beside Joel as he hauled the small pile of firewood into his arms.

It should’ve felt normal. Just another part of Jackson morning. People moving. Doors opening. Shovels scraping the walkway.

But you felt it the moment you stepped off the porch.

The glance.

It wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t even direct. Just a shift in posture, a flick of someone’s gaze, a subtle uptick in attention that hadn’t been there the day before.

You saw one of the stablehands—Travis, you thought—walking down the main path with a sack of feed slung over his shoulder. He caught sight of you beside Joel, slowed just slightly, and gave a small nod.

Polite. Respectful.

But knowing.

It wasn’t just that he saw you. It was the way he saw you. Like you weren’t just you anymore—but you and Joel. A joined phrase. A new shape. Something that didn’t require explanation to be understood.

You stood a little straighter, suddenly hyper-aware of where Joel was beside you. Of the warmth of his shoulder, of how close you’d been walking. Of the way your hand had brushed his earlier when he handed you your mug.

Joel didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t react. He carried the wood to the side of the house and stacked it neatly, methodically, like it was any other morning.

But when he came back to you, he tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking toward the path where Travis had gone.

“You alright?”

You nodded, but it came a little late. “Yeah. Just... noticed something.”

Joel’s eyes were steady on yours. He didn’t ask. Just waited.

“They’re starting to notice,” you said softly. “Us.”

Joel’s jaw shifted, not in tension, but in thought. Then he gave a small shrug. “Let ‘em.”

That made you smile. Just a little. “You’re not worried?”

He shook his head. “Only thing I care about is what you think. And if you’re okay with where we are… then the rest can keep to their own damn porches.”

You laughed under your breath. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Might be the only romantic thing I’ve ever said.”

And just like that, the pressure eased.

The whispers would come. The looks. The assumptions. That was Jackson. It always had been.

But for the first time, it didn’t feel like something to fear. It didn’t feel like something that would swallow you.

Because Joel wasn’t moving away. He wasn’t stepping back.

He was standing beside you, coffee in one hand, axe in the other, ready to weather whatever the world decided to say.

And maybe… you were, too.

It started with a trip over nothing.

One of the old floorboards outside the stables had warped from the cold. You’d stepped over it without thinking—your body remembering the snag from weeks ago. Joel, though, wasn’t so lucky.

He stepped down like he always did, boot angled just enough to catch it wrong. His arms flailed out, body lurching forward—and for one heart-stopping second, you thought he was going down completely.

But he caught himself. Just barely.

“Shit,” he muttered, trying to play it off, one hand braced on the post like he’d meant to do that. “Goddamn board’s out to get me.”

You blinked. And then—before you could stop it, before you could even think to hold it back—you laughed.

A real laugh.

Loud and sudden and warm in your chest, like something unspooled too fast to catch. You tried to swallow it down, but it kept coming.It left you breathless, bending slightly at the waist, your hand pressed to your side as the sound escaped you in full.

You didn’t even recognize the sound at first. Not until you saw Joel straighten slowly, blinking at you with an expression so startled it almost made you laugh harder.

He stared at you like you’d conjured a miracle.

And then, finally, he smiled—one of those slow, crooked ones that started in his eyes and worked its way down. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, voice quieter now. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

You tried to catch your breath, brushing your sleeve against your face where your eyes had started to water. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you sound real nice when you do it.”

That stopped you.

Your heart caught somewhere between your ribs—not from the words themselves, but from the softness in his voice when he said them. Like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Like maybe it slipped out the way your laugh had.

You didn’t know what to do with that. So you tucked your hands into your coat pockets and looked down at your boots, smiling because it was easier than anything else.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat, gentler now.

You looked up and met his gaze. “Yeah. I think I needed that.”

Joel nodded once, like that settled it. “Next time I fall, I’ll try to do it more graceful. Give you somethin’ to really laugh about.”

You snorted, then stopped yourself, lips twitching. “You’re not allowed to fall, Joel. You’ll break something.”

He grinned. “That so?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping past him toward the stable doors. “Then I’d have to carry you, and we both know that’s not happening.”

As you passed, his hand brushed yours—accidental, maybe. Maybe not. His fingers ghosted along your knuckles, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The contact was fleeting, but it lingered.

You remembered the way he held your hand that night in the dark. The way he tucked the blanket around your shoulders. The way he’d touched your wrist with reverence and not fear.

You didn’t say any of that.

But you looked back at him once you reached the doors, and he was still watching you—not with concern, not even with curiosity.

With something quieter.

He looked like someone who had almost forgotten what it meant to laugh, too.

Inside, the air was warmer. Dusty turned in her stall at the sound of your boots and gave a low whuff of recognition. You smiled and stepped forward, running your hand along her neck in a soothing motion. Joel followed, quieter now.

“She missed you,” he said softly.

“Think so?”

“Knows when something’s off,” he added. “Always did.”

You leaned your head briefly against Dusty’s shoulder, the scent of hay and fur grounding you. Joel stood just behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body, but he didn’t crowd you.

His hand hovered near your back—just like it had that night outside the infirmary. He didn’t touch you. Not yet. But the memory of it stirred something low and warm in your stomach.

“I think,” you said slowly, “that might be the first time I’ve really laughed since…”

You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Joel’s voice was low, steady. “Since before the fall.”

You nodded. Dusty nudged your side with her nose.

“It felt good,” you admitted. “Strange, but good.”

There was a pause, and then Joel murmured, “You deserve that. You deserve more of that.”

You turned slightly to look at him. His eyes were already on you.

“Don’t go fallin’ all the time just to make me laugh,” you said, teasing.

He smirked. “I dunno. Might be worth it.”

“You’d break a hip.”

He grunted. “Rude.”

You laughed again. Softer this time. But it stayed.

Joel stepped a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “You feelin’ okay today?”

“Better than yesterday.”

“Good.” He paused, voice quieter now. “It’s okay if tomorrow’s worse. Just means there’ll be another after that.”

Your chest tightened, but not in a painful way. You nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t move, didn’t step away. Just stayed there, close enough to lean on if you needed it. Close enough to feel.

“You’re not afraid of me anymore,” you said, surprising yourself.

Joel’s eyes softened. “I never was.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I mean—I used to think you’d… look at me different. After everything.”

He looked at you for a long moment, expression unreadable—but warm.

“I do look at you different,” he said. “I look at you like someone who made it through hell and still found a way to laugh at my dumb ass.”

Your throat tightened. You looked down, then back up.

“And that,” he added, his hand finally resting lightly between your shoulder blades, “is a hell of a thing.”

It happened as you were leaving the stables.

The moment was small. Barely a breath in the long rhythm of the day. You’d just said goodbye to Dusty, gave her one last pat on the nose and slipped out into the cold again, Joel a few paces behind you, holding the door open like he always did—like he’d never let it shut before you were ready.

And then… you froze.

It wasn’t fear. Not that kind. It was something else entirely. Something fluttery. Strange. Like a pulse where there shouldn’t be one. Like your body had twitched, but from the inside out.

You blinked, hand going to your stomach without thinking.

Joel was mid-sentence—something about the walkway still needing repairs—when he noticed the way you’d stopped.

“You alright?” he asked immediately, stepping closer, concern etched across his brow.

You didn’t answer right away. Just stood there, mittened hand pressing gently over your coat, your breath catching in your throat.

“I think…” You swallowed. “I think I felt it.”

Joel’s eyes dropped to your hand. “The baby?”

You nodded. Slowly. Carefully. “Yeah.”

The word felt bigger now. Heavier. Realer.

There had been so many days where it didn’t. Where it still felt like something abstract, something happening to your body rather than something growing inside it. It had been too easy to separate the two. To distance yourself from what it meant.

But this…

This was different.

It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t even strong. Just the gentlest flicker. A shift. A presence. Like a knock from within.

Joel stepped in close, his hand rising instinctively—not to replace yours, but to rest beside it, just above the curve of your coat. He didn’t touch you at first. Just hovered, giving you the chance to guide him in.

You moved your hand. Slowly. And placed his in your spot.

You both stood there, barely breathing.

“It’s faint,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper. “But it’s there.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a long time. Just kept his hand steady, eyes lowered, chest rising and falling with the slow weight of understanding.

“I remember when Sarah first kicked,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Felt like a fish wrigglin’. Weirdest thing. I didn’t believe it was her at first.”

You looked up at him. The way his eyes softened. The way his voice thickened on her name. The way he didn’t pull away.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel that again,” he said.

You didn’t know what to say. You just let your hand settle over his, grounding the moment. Letting it anchor you both.

The air around you was cold, but your body was warm. Your heart beat fast. Not with panic. With awe.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” you admitted. “About the baby. About… all of it.”

Joel nodded. “Makes sense.”

“But it’s not just mine anymore,” you said, voice soft.

His eyes found yours.

“No,” he said. “It’s ours now. If you want it to be.”

Your breath caught again—but not in fear. In something else. Something quieter. Hopeful. Dangerous.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

You just stood there, in the winter quiet of Jackson, with his hand pressed over the soft swell of your belly, both of you listening for something that had already started to change everything.

You didn’t mean to say it.

It had been sitting in your chest for days—maybe longer. Quiet and tight and awful, like a splinter you hadn’t wanted to touch. But now, with Joel’s hand still warm from resting on your stomach, the flicker of movement still fresh beneath your skin, the words came up fast. Unstoppable.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely between you. The porch. The quiet. The warmth. “Be here. With me. With… it.” You stopped yourself from saying the baby. It felt too heavy in your mouth.

Joel blinked, like you’d said something he didn’t understand. “I’m not doin’ anything I don’t want to.”

“I know,” you said quickly, hands rising, “I know you mean that. But you’re kind, Joel. You always show up. You take care of things. Of people. That doesn’t mean you have to stay.”

He stared at you, eyes sharp but unreadable.

You swallowed. “I’m younger than you.”

There it was.

The sentence fell like a stone. And you hated the way your voice shook saying it—like you were a kid trying to justify a decision you didn’t fully believe in.

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

You kept going anyway. “I’m younger, and this isn’t your kid. And I’m not—I’m not easy. I’ve got trauma, I’m pregnant from something violent and ugly, and sometimes I don’t even know if I’m gonna make it through the day without falling apart. That’s not what you signed up for.”

Silence.

Your eyes stung. You looked away, throat tight.

“I don’t want you to stay just because you feel responsible,” you whispered. “Or guilty. Or because you think I need saving.”

Joel still didn’t say anything.

You wished he would. Yell. Disagree. Shrug. Anything.

Instead, he stood. Stepped forward. Reached out and placed his hands—gently, carefully—on your shoulders.

You met his eyes.

“Is that really what you think this is?” he asked, voice low. Not angry. Just rough from emotion.

You blinked hard. “I don’t know. I’m scared it might be.”

He nodded once, as if that made sense. Like it wasn’t ridiculous. Like it didn’t sting.

Then he said, “You think I’m here outta pity?”

“No,” you said immediately. “Not pity. Just… maybe you feel like you owe me something.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. “Sweetheart, I ain’t ever stayed anywhere outta guilt. Not for long.”

You exhaled shakily, not quite believing him. “Then why are you still here?”

He stepped in closer, eyes burning—not with anger, but with intensity. With truth.

“Because I want to be.”

That hit harder than anything else could’ve.

“You’re younger,” he said. “Yeah. You’ve got this whole life ahead of you, and I’ve seen more of the world burn than I care to remember. But none of that’s ever made me think twice about wantin’ to sit beside you on this porch. Or bring you food. Or hold your hand while you try and make peace with a world that ain’t been kind.”

You stared at him, breath caught in your chest.

He went on. “You don’t scare me. Not your grief. Not your silence. Not the baby. Not the fact that you’ve seen hell and still wake up wantin’ to try again.”

You closed your eyes, but his voice followed you there.

“I’m here because I see you. Not because I owe you. Not because you need me. Because I want to be the one who stays, even when you’re convinced no one should.”

When you opened your eyes again, he was still there.

Still steady.

Still looking at you like you were something worth choosing.

You stepped forward slowly. He didn’t move.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said.

Then: “Me too.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

This time, neither of you let go.

The next morning, you left the cabin alone.

It wasn’t a big deal. Not really. Just a walk down to Maria’s, a small errand Joel said could wait, but you’d insisted on taking. You needed the movement. The space. The proof that you could step outside without falling apart.

He hadn’t argued—just looked at you for a beat longer than usual, like he wanted to offer something. A jacket. An excuse to come with you. His silence was the kind of trust that still made your throat ache.

“I’ll be back soon,” you’d said, already pulling your coat on. “I’ll be here,” he answered.

The streets were still damp from snowmelt, puddles frozen over in thin glass sheets of ice that cracked under your boots. The cold didn’t bite quite as hard as it used to, but your hands still curled into fists inside your sleeves for warmth. It was quiet—mid-morning quiet—just the occasional murmur of a conversation, a wagon wheel creaking, the sharp bark of a dog from the far end of the street.

You kept your head down. Not in shame. Just to avoid the risk of catching someone’s eye.

You weren’t sure what people saw when they looked at you now.

Before, you’d been the quiet girl who worked with horses. The one who came in from the edge of the world and made herself small enough to fit here. Now, you didn’t know. Maybe you were still that girl. Or maybe you were something else entirely. A survivor. A ghost. Joel Miller’s… what?

You hadn’t put a name to it. Neither of you had. But people saw.

You passed by a couple near the general store. The woman glanced up, gave a small smile. The man’s eyes lingered just a second longer than hers. Not rude. Not judgmental. Just… aware.

You felt it settle in your ribs.

Not malice. Just knowing.

They know he holds your hand now. They know you left his cabin this morning.

You should’ve kept walking. Should’ve ignored it.

But your feet slowed.

There was a part of you that still flinched under being seen. That wanted to fold inward every time someone noticed. That hadn’t caught up to this new version of yourself—the one trying, day by day, to believe you had a right to take up space again.

You took a slow breath, planted your boots more firmly on the street, and kept walking.

Maria’s door was open when you got there.

She didn’t seem surprised to see you—just raised an eyebrow from behind a stack of supplies. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you out solo this week.”

You gave a tight smile. “I needed some air.”

She didn’t press. Just handed you the wrapped parcel you’d come for—spare gloves, salve for Dusty’s hooves, something Joel had mentioned picking up later.

You hesitated at the door before turning back. “Do you think people are talking?”

Maria looked up, her face unreadable for a second. Then: “Probably.”

The answer didn’t sting like you thought it would.

She walked over, leaned one hip against the counter. “People in this town love a story. But they also love a reason to believe people are still trying. That healing happens.”

You nodded, quiet. Then: “It doesn’t feel like healing yet.”

Maria’s expression softened. “That’s because you’re still in it.”

She handed you a scarf—knitted, warm, familiar. Not one of yours.

“I think this is Joel’s,” you said, surprised.

“I know,” she said. “He told me to give it to you. Said you always forget one.”

You smiled, then shook your head. “He’s too good sometimes.”

“He’s exactly good enough,” Maria replied, not missing a beat. “Don’t talk yourself out of it.”

You left the outpost with the scarf around your neck.

The wind caught your hair as you turned the corner, but you didn’t duck your head this time.

You let yourself be seen.

The scarf around your neck smelled like Joel. Woodsmoke, cedar, something faintly warm and worn. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been breathing it in until the cold air hit your face again, sharper now that the sky had shifted—clouds curling heavier above the tree line, shadows growing long along the path.

You adjusted your grip on the parcel Maria had given you and crossed into the quieter part of town—just a block or two from Joel’s cabin now.

The ground here was shaded more often. Less sun to melt the snow. A fine layer of slick ice had started to reform near the bend in the path, right where the old rain barrel sat half-buried in snow.

Your foot slid before you even saw it.

It wasn’t dramatic. No crash, no full-body tumble. Just one misstep, one sharp gasp, and then your knee hit hard, your hand shot out to catch yourself, and you twisted as your body pitched forward—

—and the ache bloomed instantly in your stomach.

You froze. Eyes wide. Breath locked.

Not from pain exactly. But from the panic. The what if.

Your heart began to race. Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself upright slowly, still kneeling in the snow.

You pressed your palm to your belly, just below your coat. Not hard. Just there. Reassurance. Contact. Desperation.

“Okay,” you whispered aloud, your breath fogging in the air. “Okay. It’s okay. I didn’t fall that hard.”

But your chest was already tightening. You couldn’t stop the thoughts. Couldn’t stop the fear curling up like a scream in your throat.

What if that was enough? What if that was all it took?

You staggered to your feet, knees soaked from the snow, fingers stiff as you held the parcel to your chest. The cabin was just ahead. Just a few more steps.

By the time you reached the porch, your vision had narrowed at the edges. Not from pain—but from fear. It sat thick in your lungs. In your gut.

You didn’t knock.

You opened the door and stepped inside with your breath caught in your throat.

Joel was at the table, frowning over something he’d been carving—maybe firewood, maybe not. He looked up immediately.

His face changed the second he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, standing. “What happened?”

You tried to speak. Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

He crossed the room in three long strides, taking the parcel from your arms before it could drop. “You fall?”

You nodded. Barely.

“Shit.” He set everything down and reached for you, hands hovering. “Where?”

You touched your knee first, then your stomach.

Joel’s expression didn’t break—but something in him went very, very still.

“Come on,” he said, guiding you gently toward the couch. “Sit. Let me take a look.”

“I don’t know if it’s—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Your voice cracked. “Joel, what if—”

“No.” His voice was calm, steady, and a little firmer now. “You don’t get to spiral yet. Not until we know.”

You swallowed, breathing too fast.

Joel knelt in front of you and placed his hand over yours, right where it rested on your belly.

“Is there any pain?”

You shook your head. “Just… tight. Scared me.”

“Any cramping? Blood?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then we’re alright. Let’s just breathe, alright?”

You nodded, trying to match the rhythm of his voice, the warmth of his hand. The panic was still there, but it was slowing. The storm was passing.

“I should’ve been more careful,” you murmured, ashamed.

“Hey.” Joel’s eyes met yours, sharp with something fierce and protective. “Don’t do that. Don’t talk like it’s your fault for bein’ human.”

You looked down.

He reached for your other hand and laced your fingers together. “We’ll keep an eye on it. If anything changes, we go straight to the doc. But right now? You’re here. The baby’s fine. You’re fine.”

You blinked fast, breath catching.

“C’mere,” he whispered, tugging gently until you leaned forward. His arms wrapped around you, holding you steady. “You’re alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And this time, you let yourself believe it.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep.

One moment, Joel was still holding you—his hands warm and steady on your back, your face tucked into the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the comfort of him. The next, the world had gone quiet around the edges.

It wasn’t deep sleep. Not the kind you sank into. Just enough to make your muscles go slack. To let your guard drop.

You woke with your cheek against his chest, the couch blanket draped over both of you. Joel hadn’t moved—his hand still resting over your belly, his other arm loosely around your shoulders, thumb tracing the same slow, comforting pattern along your spine.

It took you a second to remember why your heart was tight.

Then you did.

The ice. The fall. The fear.

Your breath hitched before you could stop it.

Joel felt it instantly.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low, rough from stillness. “You’re alright.”

You turned your head, still resting against him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Not for restin’. Not here.”

You closed your eyes again, not because you were tired—but because you didn’t know how to look at him with all of that in your chest. He made it too easy to feel safe. Too easy to want more than just this moment of calm.

“I’m not used to it,” you said after a while. “Letting someone… stay.”

Joel didn’t say anything at first.

Then, quiet: “I know.”

He pressed a soft kiss into your hair. Not rushed. Not expectant. Just there.

“You don’t owe me that,” you whispered.

“Wasn’t a transaction,” he said. “I just wanted you to know I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You nodded into his chest, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his shirt.

Outside, the light had changed. The snow had started again—thin, soft flakes drifting down against the windows in gentle rhythm. The kind that coated everything in quiet.

You thought about the baby. About the scar still faint on your wrist. About the way you hadn’t flinched when Joel touched you today—not once. That might’ve been the most important thing of all.

You smiled, small but real.

Then you asked the question that had been sitting at the back of your throat all afternoon.

“Do you ever get scared?”

Joel was quiet for a long moment. Then:

“All the time.”

He shifted just slightly so you could see his face. “But I’m more scared of not showin’ up. Of watchin’ someone I care about go through shit alone.”

You searched his eyes. There was nothing but truth in them.

“I care about you,” he added, quiet. “More than I probably know how to say.”

You exhaled slowly, your forehead coming to rest against his collarbone.

“I care about you too,” you whispered.

And just like that, the silence became something softer.

It wasn’t the end of fear. Wasn’t the end of the long road ahead.

But for now, it was enough.

You curled closer into Joel’s arms, the snow whispering against the window, and let stillness settle like something earned.

Like something safe.

Maria didn’t knock this time.

You heard her boots crunching softly against the snow just past sundown, moments after Joel had stepped out to chop another load of firewood. You weren’t expecting her. You hadn’t seen her since the morning errand and the fall that followed.

When you opened the door, she was already halfway up the steps, her coat dusted in snow, scarf wrapped high.

“You alright?” she asked, skipping the pleasantries entirely.

You blinked at her. “How did you—”

“Tommy told me you slipped,” she said, waving off the question. “Said you got right back up and walked home. Didn’t look shaken, but that’s not always the kind of thing people can see.”

You stepped aside to let her in without thinking. She walked past you with the quiet ease of someone who’d done this before—offered comfort without smothering, presence without pressure.

You closed the door, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around you like a blanket.

“I’m okay,” you said, even though your voice wavered just enough to give you away.

Maria looked at you, steady and patient. “I believe that’s what you want to be.”

That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did.

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisted together. “I didn’t fall hard. But I panicked. Thought… something could’ve happened.”

“To the baby,” she finished for you.

You nodded.

She walked over to the table and set down the bundle she’d been carrying. You hadn’t even noticed it—wrapped in plain cloth, slightly damp with snow.

“Fresh bread,” she said. “And the tea I forgot to send with you earlier.”

You felt the emotion rise up sharp in your chest. Bread shouldn’t make you want to cry.

“Thank you.”

Maria leaned back against the table, arms crossed over her chest. “You’re doing better than you think, you know.”

You gave a short, unconvincing laugh. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” she said. “You’re still in the middle of it.”

She paused, then added gently: “But you’re not where you were. That’s something.”

You stared at the floor, words caught in your throat.

“Joel said you were worried. About what this means for him. For you.”

Your eyes snapped up. “He told you?”

Maria shrugged. “He didn’t tell me the details. Just said you were scared he’d feel obligated. Like he had to stay.”

You folded your arms around yourself. “I don’t want him to think I expect anything.”

“I know,” she said. “But you don’t have to pretend like you don’t need anything, either.”

That silenced you.

She took a step forward then, her voice lower. “Look, I’ve known Joel a long time. He doesn’t move easy. Doesn’t open easy. But when he does? It’s because he’s already made up his mind.”

You looked at her, unsure what to say.

Maria smiled, small and sincere. “He’s here because he wants to be. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad he is.”

You blinked fast. “Me too.”

She started to move toward the door, then paused, glancing back at you. “And for the record? You’re not a burden. To him. Or to me. If you need anything—whether Joel’s here or not—you knock.”

You nodded. “I will.”

“No pride,” she added, giving you a knowing look. “We’re way past that.”

You smiled. “No pride.”

Maria pulled open the door, snow swirling in on a gust of cold air. She stepped outside, her voice soft as she glanced toward the tree line where Joel was likely still working.

“You’re building something here. Don’t be afraid to let it last.”

And then she was gone.

You stood there for a long moment, hand still on the doorframe, the scent of bread and rosemary tea curling into the warmth of the room.

You weren’t alone.

Not anymore.

The door creaked open just as you were finishing your tea.

You looked up to find Joel dusted in snow, cheeks wind-pinked, sleeves rolled up just past his wrists. He stepped inside with a quiet kind of purpose, like he’d had something on his mind the whole time he was gone.

“You warm enough?” he asked, already eyeing the fire.

You nodded. “Maria’s tea helps.”

“She drop by?”

“Mm-hmm. Said you sent word.”

Joel hummed but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he set his gloves down, brushed snow off his shoulders, and pulled a small bundle from inside his coat.

Wrapped in soft flannel, worn and fraying at the corners. Nothing fancy. Familiar in a way that made your heart shift before you even saw what was inside.

“I didn’t buy this,” Joel said, setting it on the table. “It was Ellie’s. She said it might be yours now.”

You blinked. “Ellie?”

He scratched the back of his neck, almost sheepish. “She found it a few months ago—before you got here. Someone had traded it in at the depot. Thought it might be better off with someone who’d actually need it.”

You unwrapped the flannel slowly.

Inside was a small, stuffed horse. Dusty gray. A little beat-up—one button eye was missing, the mane worn thin in places—but soft. Clearly loved once. Stitched by hand. It wasn’t elaborate. It was simple. Gentle.

It looked like something that had comforted a child once.

Something that could again.

Your breath caught.

You didn’t realize you were holding it so tightly until Joel’s voice broke the quiet.

“Ellie said it reminded her of Dusty.”

You laughed under your breath, pressing your fingers along the tiny thread-stitched ears. “Of course she did.”

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about toys. About comfort. About what it might mean to give something soft and safe to a child born from something so violent.

But this…

This didn’t feel like a reminder of what you’d lost.

It felt like a small, quiet promise. Of what could still be given.

You looked up, your voice quiet. “I don’t know what to do with something like this.”

Joel didn’t press. He didn’t tell you it would all be okay. He just sat down beside you and let his knee rest lightly against yours.

“You don’t gotta decide anything today,” he said. “Just thought maybe havin’ it nearby might help. For later.”

You nodded, fingers tightening around the soft belly of the little horse.

“It does,” you said. “It helps now.”

Joel reached for your hand. You let him take it.

And for a long, quiet moment, you both sat there—just breathing. Just being.

You didn’t ask why he’d thought to bring it. You didn’t have to.

The answer was already in his hands, in his silence, in the simple act of showing up again and again without needing to be asked.

You hadn’t planned to stay the night.

Joel hadn’t asked you to. Hadn’t even hinted. But by the time the fire had burned down low and the wind outside had picked up again, whistling soft and steady through the eaves, neither of you had said anything about going home.

You’d stayed curled on his couch long after the tea had gone cold, your legs tucked under a blanket, the stuffed horse still resting quietly in your lap. Joel had stayed nearby—at the table for a while, then beside you, his knee brushing yours, both of you watching the fire like it might answer a question neither of you wanted to ask out loud.

Eventually, you stood. Slowly. The stretch of it pulled at your ribs, a quiet ache settling into your body from a long day of tension.

Joel looked up from where he sat, eyes tracking your movement. He didn’t speak, just waited—steady and patient in a way that had started to feel familiar.

“I’m tired,” you said softly.

He nodded once. “I figured.”

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sweater. “I don’t think I want to be alone tonight.”

Joel didn’t move right away. Just looked at you with something unspoken behind his eyes.

“Alright,” he said finally. “You don’t have to be.”

He stood slowly, giving you space. Waiting.

You crossed the room toward his bedroom, the hallway darker than you remembered, the light from the fire barely stretching that far. Your heart thudded—not with fear, but with something quieter. Nervous, maybe. Hopeful, even.

The room smelled like him. Wood and flannel and warmth. You didn’t bother changing into anything else. Just slipped under the blanket in your clothes, letting the weight of it settle over you like something earned.

You heard Joel moving around the living room for a few minutes—closing the flue, setting the kettle aside, locking the door. Every sound felt like a promise.

When he stepped into the doorway, you were already curled on your side, facing the far wall.

He paused.

“You sure?” he asked softly.

You turned to look at him. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

Joel moved slowly, deliberately—never fast, never assuming. He eased onto the other side of the bed, lying above the blanket at first, his weight dipping the mattress just enough that it shifted you slightly toward him.

You lay there in silence, listening to the soft sound of him settling in. Your breaths eventually synced up—his slower, deeper, grounding. You let yours fall into rhythm with it, feeling the edges of sleep begin to creep in.

Then, quietly—so quietly it almost didn’t exist—you reached for him.

Your hand slid across the sheets, searching for his.

You didn’t have to go far. He was already there.

Joel took your hand without hesitation, fingers lacing gently through yours. You felt the squeeze—a little more than comfort, a little less than confession.

You shifted closer.

Not all the way. Just enough.

His warmth met yours, steady and solid, and this time, you didn’t pull away.

There were no words. No need for them.

No explaining. No justifying.

Just this.

A bed shared not from panic or survival, but choice. A quiet, conscious kind of closeness. One that didn’t demand anything. One that said: I’m here. I’m staying. I want to stay.

Joel’s thumb brushed the back of your hand once before you drifted into sleep.

And this time, when you closed your eyes, it didn’t feel like letting go.

It felt like finally—finally—letting yourself rest.

You dreamed.

But not the way you used to.

Not the way you had—chained and breathless, running through memory, trapped in a loop of violence you couldn’t wake from. This dream was different. Not a story. Not a nightmare. Just… moments.

The wind outside the cabin. The weight of Joel’s hand curled around yours. Dusty’s soft muzzle pressing against your palm. The scent of cedar smoke and fresh snow. The soft wool of a tiny stuffed horse, tucked into the crook of your arm.

You dreamed of warmth. Of light through the curtains. Of the slow creak of floorboards beneath Joel’s boots. His voice, low and calm, saying your name like it wasn’t a warning but a welcome.

You dreamed of a fire burning low. A blanket around your shoulders. The quiet hum of something alive inside you—not pain, not fear. Just a flutter.

Just life.

You woke slowly, breath deep and easy. The kind of waking that didn’t come with panic or a rush of adrenaline. Your body didn’t flinch. Your mind didn’t scream. There was only stillness.

Only softness.

You blinked up at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented not because something was wrong—but because nothing was.

The warmth beside you was real. Joel hadn’t moved.

He was still there, breathing slow and steady, turned slightly toward you in sleep. The lines around his eyes were softer here, his mouth relaxed, one hand resting loosely on the space between you—open, like he’d reached for you in his sleep and didn’t need to hold tight to know you’d be there.

You looked at him for a long time.

You could’ve stayed that way for hours.

Instead, you moved gently under the blanket, rolling toward him until your forehead was just a breath from his shoulder. He stirred slightly—not startled, not tense—just aware. Present. Even in sleep.

And then his hand moved.

Not out of reflex. Not protectiveness.

He slid his palm to rest lightly over your stomach.

Like he remembered. Like he wanted you to remember too.

You exhaled, slow and steady, letting your hand come to rest over his.

It was still early. The sky outside was still gray-blue with morning. The fire had gone to embers, and the room was quiet but not cold.

You closed your eyes again.

No nightmares waited for you.

Just breath. Just warmth. Just him.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t dream of escape.

You dreamed of staying.

[flemingsfreckles]

Armband (18+)

Synopsis: your girlfriend realizes the extent to which the Captain’s armband affects you.

Warnings: SMUT! shower sex, risk of being caught, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), little bit of teasing, minimal orgasm denial marking, cursing, use of armband as gag… 🫣

WC: 3.4K

A/N: I’m a sucker for the armband 🙃

“I’m so proud of you.” You leaned over and whispered into Jessie’s ear. She had just formally captained her first game for Canada. She’d worn the armband before, when Sinc wasn’t available, or when there would be a substitute she’d find the armband being passed to her. But now it was hers, she was the captain, the armband was hers to wear all the time and it drove you crazy.

Jessie had always been a leader on the field, she was level headed, smart, she had the experience to back it up, but now the formal indicator of her leadership sat snugly on her left bicep.

“If you stare long enough you might burn a hole through it.” Jordyn had come up behind you, smacking the back of your head lightly and teasing at the way you couldn’t stop gawking at your girlfriend’s new accessory. She gave you a smile as she walked away leaving you and Jessie to have privacy again.

“I’m proud of you, Little Miss. Two Goals and an Assist.” Jessie nudged you back.

“I owe it all to you, Captain.” You let the title drag out, whispering it in a tone that told Jessie everything she needed to know about how you felt with her new title. She turned, one eyebrow raised.

“Seriously? You’ve seen me wear the armband a hundred times now it gets you worked up?” A small laugh falls from her lips as she looks at you.

“I dunno.” You shrug at her, feeling the blush radiate up your cheeks. “It's formal now.”

“Alright babe.” She says before walking off to go sign autographs for some little kids wearing her jersey. You make your way to another part of the field and begin to chat, sign autographs, and take photos. You make a lap before heading into the locker room.

You’re taking off your sweaty shirt when Jessie comes up behind you, her hands on your hips. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What do you want to do the rest of the day?”

“Anything you want, Captain.” You say to her, turning in her hands so you’re facing her and again trying your best to drag out her new title. You raise your eyebrow, indicating your answer wasn’t meant innocently. You let your fingertips flirt over the band on her arm.

“Is that so?” Jessie questions and you quickly nod. “Go shower, I’ll deal with you when we’re home.” She pushes you in the direction of the showers with a smile. You knew what she meant by dealing with you. She’d fix the aching between your legs you had for her.

You were quick to gather your towel and soap before hopping into the shower, rushing in hopes of getting home and thrown into bed sooner.

You dip your head under the water, feeling refreshed as the sweat washes from your skin. You hear the noise of other showers running, the sounds of shower curtains opening and closing as your teammates clean off.

You're facing the wall when you suddenly feel cold hands on your bare waist. “Oh!” You say out of surprise before turning and seeing Jessie behind you. Her hand quickly covers your mouth. You look her up and down, she’s in her spandex shorts and her bra, her arm still sporting the armband.

“Hi.” Jessie leans into your ear, whispering at a volume only you can hear. “You said anything I want right?” She takes her hand off of your mouth.

“Yes Captain.” You lean in to whisper to her. You watch as Jessie’s eyes widen, maybe she hadn’t expected you to use the title in a sexual manner but given her reaction she seemed to like it.

“Good girl. You’re either going to be quiet, or I’ll make sure you're quiet, understood?”

You nod, you already know you won’t be able to keep quiet, you never could with Jessie. It caused a fair amount of teasing from your teammates from overhearing the two of you in hotel rooms after big games or stressful games. You really didn’t mind, you had no shame in getting fucked good by your girlfriend but you knew Jessie was quick to shy away from everyone knowing what the two of you did in the bedroom, or in this case the shower.

Jessie reaches up, angling the shower head off to the side to not waterboard the two of you, the heat from the water still keeping the air around your bodies warm. She pulls you in tight and brings her lips to yours. Your wet skin comes into contact with her dry clothes and skin. She gently sucks your bottom lip between her own, letting her teeth dig into it. Her hands roam along your waist and up to your back, she gently scratches her nails down. Such a small action already has you letting out a whine. Jessie releases your lip with a pop and gives you a glare.

She brings her finger to her lips, showing you the sign to be quiet. You nod at her, you wanted to give her what you promised, anything she wanted. Jessie also wasn’t one to risk being caught, but here she was, in the showers, teammates of yours just feet away. This was new and it was hot.

Jessie’s hands slid their way down your torso and to your hips. She gently dug her thumbs into your hip bones before pushing you backwards until your back felt the cool rush of the shower tile. That’s when Jessie began trailing kisses down the length of your body. She started with your lips a few pecks before letting her tongue meet yours. Just as you fell into a rhythm kissing her, she pulled back. This time you remembered to hold in the whine, biting your lip hard as Jessie began to place open mouth kisses down the column of your neck.

She paused in place when she heard your breath hitch and felt your hands grab at her biceps. You so badly wanted to moan her name, let your teammates know how good she took care of you, but you couldn’t. You feel a sharp nip at your neck before the strong suction of Jessie’s lips. She was marking you, on your collarbone, a place everyone would see when you changed. When she released the skin you looked down seeing the dark red spot already forming. You shot Jessie a firm look, to which she just smirked before whispering “Anything I want.” up at you.

Clearly wanting to prove her point, Jessie continues down your collarbones, to your chest, making sure to suck a couple dark marks into the flesh there. She brings her hands up each to cup your chest, letting her thumbs circle your nipples, making them harden under her touch. You’re able to hold back moans, instead letting out shakey deep breaths which have Jessie smirking at you, knowing what she’s doing to you. Before moving away from your head Jessie leans into your ear again. “Hold those pretty noises in, don’t want any of our teammates hearing just how needy you are for me, so needy that you’ve got me to fuck you in the showers, do we?” She shakes her head at you and you mirror her actions. “Good, now let’s see how well you can listen.”

Content with playing with your chest, Jessie makes herself a small path of red bites and bruises down your whole body right to where you wanted her. Jessie drops to her knees, one of your hands finding the top of her head and the other supporting you against the shower wall. Despite being on her knees for you, you knew Jessie held all the control in this moment.

Her hand trailed slowly up the back of your leg until it rested in the bend of your knee. She gently pulled your leg up and out before placing it to rest on her shoulder. She doesn’t lean in immediately, instead bringing up one hand to open you up, you watch as she licks her bottom lip, looking at your core then up to you and then back down.

You throw back your head in anticipation as you see Jessie bring her head forward to place her mouth between your legs. With the first swipe of her tongue your knee buckles and Jessie’s hands are quick to grab your thighs holding you up. Jessie dives her head back in, her tongue easily finding your clit and lapping at it. It’s embarrassing how quickly you’re letting out a moan. Or half of a moan, the second it starts to spill from your lips you close your mouth before looking down at the unamused expression on your girlfriend's face.

She gets up from her knees, letting your leg slide off her shoulder. She brings herself face to face with you and places a hand on your jaw. She turns your face to the side and brings her lips to touch your ear.

“What did I say about making noise?” Her voice is hushed and rough. When you go to open your mouth and answer Jessie’s grip on your jaw tightens. “No, don’t make excuses. You didn’t listen, you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll do it for you.” She drops her hand from your jaw and her right hand comes up to grab the armband, yanking it down her arm before she folds it up. Her hand comes back up to your jaw, and you suddenly feel your core clench around nothing, realizing the arousing thing Jessie is about to do.

“You like that armband of mine so much, let me put it to good use. Open.” She growls into your ear as she pinches her thumb and index finger hard into your jaw forcing your mouth open before her other hand bunches up the armband and she puts it between your lips and teeth. “That should keep you quiet, don’t even think about taking it out.”

You let out a sigh, testing how well the fabric in your mouth muffled your sounds, it wasn’t completely soundproof but it would work.

Jessie brought herself back to her knees, lifting your leg again and giving you no warning before her face was back between your legs. This time you can tell she’s trying to get you to make noise. Maybe she didn’t care anymore, maybe she liked the idea of you struggling to keep quiet under her. Her lips sucked hard on your nerves and you can’t help but bite down harder onto the fabric. You didn’t want her to stop, you didn’t want to make noise.

You feel yourself tighten your jaw more as Jessie’s fingers begin to tease at your entrance. She lets her fingertips just barely enter before she takes them away. The next time she enters them to the first knuckle before again taking them away from you. A groan of frustration bubbles up in your throat. You needed her. Jessie knew you needed her, that’s exactly why she continued on teasing. She repeated the process, liking how every time she entered you tried to buck your hips, hoping she’d go in deeper. Instead Jessie was more satisfied hearing the tiny noise that came through the armband each time she took her fingers away. She knew your eyes were screwed tightly shut, trying your best to not make noise as she had requested. She was keeping you just where she wanted you, right along the edge. You were putty in her hands and she loved it.

The next time Jessie teases her fingers and takes them away you pull hard on her hair, pulling her face back, her lips releasing from you with a pop. She looked up at you and you tried to give her your best begging look, you thrust your hips slightly toward her hoping she got the hint. Jessie licked her lips as she looked up at you. You were a beautiful sight, your soaked core in her vision, your torso littered in marks she made, your chest heaving from the teasing. On top of it all your pretty mouth was filled with her armband. Jessie was floored by your beauty, deciding she’d give you what you deserved, after all, you had been good for her and you had played well, she knew you deserved a reward.

Jessie brings her mouth to you, this time just sticking her tongue out flat and placing it against you. You stand still waiting for her to begin moving. Instead Jessie’s hands come between your legs to grab your ass. They give a quick squeeze before her hands start encouraging your hips to move. She pushes your hips forward then pulls you back, repeating the movement until you pick up the idea on your own, she wants you to ride her face.

You immediately oblige to her request, you begin thrusting and grinding yourself against Jessie’s mouth and nose. Your hand in her hair grips her tightly, holding her where you need her. It doesn’t take much, a couple moments grinding your clit into Jessie’s nose when you feel your leg begin to shake under your weight. You were getting close. It was becoming harder and harder to keep your noises in. The armband muffled the sounds but your jaw being open meant you couldn’t hold them in the way you would by clenching your teeth and biting your lip. The closer you go the more sounds that come out, pathetic whines and whimpers as you are unable to form any words.

You’re grateful for the armband and the sound of multiple showers running when Jessie pushes your hips hard back against the wall, taking away the pleasure of riding her face. It was unlikely anyone heard the sound of desperation that came from your throat as you tried to rut your hips against nothing.

Jessie stood up again, pressing her whole body against yours, the cold shower tile touching every inch of the back of your skin. She placed kissing along your collarbone as her hand still pressed your hips firmly into the wall, not wanting you to get any kind of stimulation.

She kisses up your neck and gently pulls your ear between her teeth, biting it before talking to you quietly. “You said anything I wanted right?” You nod against her face. Her hand releases your hip for a moment, she places her leg between your thighs helping pin you to the wall while also torturing you more with the pressure on your clit. “Don’t move your hips.” As if she knew what your next move was going to be, Jessie told you off before you could do it. Her hand moves and pulls the armband from your mouth. “Answer me, anything I want, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Jessie says, looking at you. You’re not sure what she means until she glances from you to the armband and back to you.

“Yes Captain.” You say and Jessie nods.

“And you’re going to be quiet right? Be a good girl with your mouth full?”

“Yes Captain.”

“Okay, I’m going to let you cum, but you have to follow the rules. Can you do that? Can you cum for me in secret?”

“Yes Captain.”

“Open.” Jessie says and you happily open your mouth for her to place the fabric back in. “Now be a good girl and cum on my face and fingers.” She says before she pinches each of your nipples making you jump and let out a squeal.

Jessie drops back between your legs for the third time, pulling up your leg again and this time thrusting her fingers deep inside of you. Your back arches off the wall and you’re throwing back your head. She had you so worked up you already felt yourself clenching tightly around her thick fingers. She gives you one last look up before closing her eyes and placing her mouth and tongue on you again. Her fingers curl inside of you as she sucks and laps at your clit. You feel yourself flutter around her fingers as the tingle in your stomach builds and builds.

Her fingers stretching you, her tongue and lips torturing your swollen clit, the sight of her between your legs, on her knees in the shower, the shower where your teammates are just meters away, the risk of being caught, other people hearing your desperate nosies, it’s all building your high.

That high comes crashing down moments later. The noise you let out is that of a whine followed by a deep groan, one that definitely could be heard by anyone else in the showers if they were paying attention. Jessie works you through your orgasm before standing up, her hands supporting your waist.

“I told you to be quiet.” She says as she takes the armband from your mouth.

“I tried.” You had, you really had, you just couldn’t handle the pleasure and the moans had just happened.

“Well you need to try harder.” Jessie grabs the shower head, turning it back so the water runs down your body. “Let’s finish getting you clean, when we get home you’re going to learn what happens when you don’t listen to your Captain.” She says before reaching for the shampoo.

You had expected Jessie to leave, disappointed in you, mad at the noises you made, but she didn’t. She stayed in the stall with you, striping off what remained of her own clothes. She helped wash you before washing herself, when she turned off the water she reached outside of the shower grabbing your towel before her own. You step out first checking to make sure no one was actively coming in to see the two of you getting out of the same stall.

You’re not sure why you bothered trying to hide when you caught a glimpse at your appearance in the mirror on the way to the changing room. Your towel covered everything from your knees up to your armpit height. However Jessie had taken it upon herself to mark you across both collarbones and up the right side of your neck.

She watched how your eyes widened at the sight, knowing your teammates would see any second. “Don’t be shy now, it’s not like they didn’t all see you eyeing me up all day. They already know you’re getting fucked by me, what’s a little more proof for them.” She just shrugged. You couldn’t believe her sudden lack of care involving your teammates knowing.

You tried you best to duck your head and make your way to your locker, but it wasn’t long until your teammates started talking.

“Jesus, no wonder the water started to get cold!”

“Holy shit.”

“Y’all are gross.”

“Seems like you two had some good post game recovery.”

You hear a chorus of reactions to your appearance. You duck your head further and turn back to look at Jessie who has an all too proud smirk on her face. You’re happy to see she’s at least supporting a small blush, one that’s minor in comparison to the beet red face you had. You try and make your way over to your locker to change and leave before you are subjected to any more teasing.

“One, two, three, four…” you feel Julia’s finger poking at each of the marks, counting them out for everyone to hear.

“Hey, leave her alone, Captain’s orders.” You hear Jessie say from behind you. Her arm comes up to protectively wrap around your shoulders.

“Sure seems like someone took a lot of Captain's orders in those showers.” Janine says under her breath but somehow to the entire room. Your teammates erupted in laughter while you turned, as red as physically possible, tucking your body into Jessie’s.

You knew the teasing was worth it, the sex had been great, incredibly hot, and a good fix for your fascination with the armband. Jessie made it even more worth it when she took care of you that night, over and over, as an apology for the teasing you had endured as a result of her actions.

[lesbon4t]

very good

pairing : natasha romanoff x reader

warnings : rlly heavy praise kink, spanking, punishments, degrading, lil pain kink, mommy kink, strap-on usage, mention of blood, thigh riding, choking, lil bit of hair pulling, marking, dumbification, edging.

summary : you miss one of your russian lessons and your girlfriend is mad about it (3778 words)

MINORS DNI !! THIS IS A FIC FOR MATURE AUDIENCES AND I AM VERY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS !! ANY BLOG WITHOUT THEIR AGE STATED OR WITHOUT 18+ IN THEIR BIO WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED !!

not proof read

A mixture of pleasure and pain hit you once again, you let out a yelp as another tear ran down your cheek. "Shhhh, it's alright baby, almost there," Natasha assured you. You were currently on your stomach over her thigh, you had missed one of your russian lessons hence breaking the rules put in place between you and Nat.

You held in a breath when you no longer felt her hand in contact with your stinging skin and braced for the next blow. Her hand came down harder than the previous one and the sound of it echoed through out the room. You bit your bottom lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming that it drew blood and your hands gripped onto Nat's thigh even tighter, your fingernails sank into her skin and you were sure it would leave her with marks.

You felt her hand once again soothing over the area she just spanked you, her thumb going in circles and you fell into her touch. "Very good," she said under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear, "I knew you could do it, you're such a good girl for me aren't you ?"

Her hand on your hip that held you in place moved to your scalp, she massaged it comfortingly and pulled it lightly from time to time just the way she knew you liked it, you let out a whimper and Nat chuckles, "Always so responsive..." her hand leaves your scalp, moving back to its secure place on your hips and you're already missing the way it felt in your hair.

"Just three more and we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night baby." She assured you and you let out a whine. She frowned and pinched your sore skin harshly, you jerk due to how unexpected it was but Nat’s hand around your waist kept you in place, " You know you have to finish your punishment, You broke a rule and that's on you angel." she reprimands you, "We wouldn't be here if you had went to your russian lessons like a good girl would we ?"

You nodded and felt your face turn red because she was right, if you had went to your russian lesson who knows what the both of you could be doing right now ? Instead you were over Nat’s knee getting your ass spanked till it was black and blue. You highly doubted you'd be able to walk or sit properly tomorrow. She pinched you again but lightly this time, "Words love, we've talked about this." she reminded you. "Yes," you muttered softly, you knew what she wanted you to say.

You could practically feel Nat’s eyes burning into you, she rubbed circles on your thigh and smirked, "Yes who ?" she asked. Your cheeks turned red, and the silence in the room became loud "C'mon, I know you know the answer pretty girl, go on. It's okay, it's just us." she encouraged you. "Yes mommy.", the words flew out of your mouth quickly and quietly, you buried your head into her thigh, mildly embarrassed, yet aroused. Nat smiled, it always took you some encouragement to call her that but god was it worth it at the end because she loved that title coming out of your mouth. "Good..." she praised, "Good fuckin' girl."

"Baby, I know I said that you need to finish your punishment but you've just been so good for me," her body dips and suddenly her lips are next to your ear, they brush against the shell of your ear lightly and it sent a shiver down your spine. Nat always seemed to have some sort of effect on you, every movement she made towards you had your stomach filled with butterflies and goosebumps raise on your skin. Her hand made its way up your body and her fingers ghosted where you needed her the most.

You wanted to whine but the urge to be good for her was stronger. "Been listening to me," she listed it out and her middle finger teases your core, "Been doing what i told you to do..." she muttered and her finger moves a strip up your heat, collecting your wetness. Nat brings her fingers up and smirks, "So fuckin' wet for me and I haven't even touched you properly yet, such a filthy little girl." she pops her middle finger into her mouth and stares you dead in the eye whilst doing so, she groans at your taste and you can feel yourself getting even wetter.

When she pulls her fingers out of her mouth she smiles, "Been taking your punishment so well." Nat taps your ass twice and you push yourself off her thigh to stand up, this was a familiar command from her, one of which she always used to show her authority around you. She loved having different subtle ways to show her possessiveness over you, she didn't like it to be shown too publicly but she loved it when it was subtle yet obvious enough for people to notice.

When you stood up a slight pain shot up your legs and you wince. Nat notices and she smirks, you hold onto her shoulder to properly stand and when you did she stood up too, her figure towering over yours. Her hand rose to caress your cheek, "Been such a good fuckin' girl for your mommy, haven't you ?" she asked, and you nod, "Yes mommy, always." When you used the title without hesitation, Nat smiled, "I think you deserve a reward pretty girl." She bends down slightly and her lips collide with yours, there was never a fight between the both of you when it got to taking control, Nat always got it and you were happy with that.

Her tongue swipes your bottom lip and you give her access to slip her tongue in, you can feel her grin against your lips. Her hand moves from your cheek to your chin, making your head tilt upwards, deepening the kiss whilst her spare hand travels down your body to grab your ass, smacking it . You moan into the kiss, the pleasure mixed with the pain just made you wetter. When the both of you ran out of air your lips parted, Nat started kissing your jawline and then she muttered "On the bed for me love, I want to see you on your back, I'll be right back," and pressed one more lingering kiss onto your lips before leaving the room.

You quickly made your way to the bed, removing your bra from your chest, that being the only piece of clothing that was still on you. You lay down on your back just like she told you to and you could feel your wetness dripping onto the sheets, the urge to relieve yourself of the knot in your stomach came quick. Your hands grabbed the sheets, gripping onto them tightly holding onto the little amount of self control you had, you were so close to getting a reward you weren't going to ruin it for yourself now. If any time was a good time for Nat to come back it would be now, you didn't know just how long more you could take it.

Just like she could read your mind, Nat came right back into the room, your head looked up and towards the door to see her. She was still fully clothed, her shirt and jewelry and everything stayed,  but her pants now had a noticeable bulge and you knew she was packing. Something about the way she was fully clothed whilst you were completely naked had you squeezing your thighs together. Nat almost groaned when she caught sight of you, looking so pretty and ready for her, but instead her pupils dilated and the mood changed drastically, a smirk hanging on her lips.

She walked towards where you were on the bed and her fingers touched your legs lightly. She walked towards where your head was slowly and so did her fingers, moving up your body teasingly. You took in a shaky breath and whimpered at her touch. Nat hummed in approval before bending down to catch you at eye level, "You're so pretty baby, you've been waiting so patiently for me haven't you?" she asked. You looked at her with eyes that were at the brink of tears, your needs getting to you, "Need you so bad, please." you said softly.

Nat looked at you with fake pity, "Oh love... I'm so sorry I took so long, left you here all needy for me, squirming on the bed like the filthy little girl you are." she says in a sultry way, "I'm so sorry I didn't take care of my girl." she taunted , and she started crawling onto the bed slowly until she was on top of you. Her knee was slotted in between your thighs, pressing against your core whilst her arms were on the sides of your body, trapping you below her.

You gasped when you felt her knee come into contact with your pussy. Needing any form of friction right now, you started to move your hips involuntarily, rubbing yourself all over her thigh. Nat took notice of it quickly, her arms moving to your hips to hold them in place. "But I can take care of my girl now, can't I ?" she asked with a frown, "Or do you want to do it yourself ?"

You shake your head, "No natty, no, please, no. I'll be good, I'll be so good for you, I promise, please. " you begged, you needed her, wanted her so bad. But all she did was cock her head to the side and stare at you with disappointment, "I'm not convinced." she said simply, and just as you were about to protest she continued, "But you can prove to me that you'll be good." You quickly lit with hope again, you were willing to do whatever she asked you to do.

Nat pushes herself up from the bed so she's no longer towering over you and moves to sit herself on the side of the bed. She turns to your confused self and makes a come here motion with her index finger. You get up from the bed and kneel next to where she is on the bed. "Stand up." she demanded and you quickly get off the bed to stand in front of her. Nat looks you up and down and admires your figure, biting her bottom lip, you felt like that look alone could make you cum. She then pats her thigh signalling for you to sit on it and so you did, your bare pussy atop her clothed thigh.

"Ride it." she said, and your brain paused for a second, you needed to hear what she said again. "W-What ?", you muttered. Nat rolled her eyes, "You know I don't like repeating myself baby, I said ride it." she repeated. Your face turned red and blood rushed up your cheeks. Nat almost chuckled at the sight of you, so confused, you looked adorable. Her hands made its way to your sides just above your hip, her thumb rubbed circles, "Why so shy ?" she taunted you, "You were so happy humping on mommy's knee earlier." Nat bounced her leg and your clit bumped against her flexed thigh, you let out a pornographic moan, "Or did my baby turn dumb ?" she asked, "Either you do what I tell you to do, or you're not gonna cum tonight."

You look at her with wide eyes and she raises an eyebrow, challenging you to disobey her. So you put your hands on her shoulder and start to move your hips against her thigh, your slick covering her pants, and she smirks, somehow, she always got her way with you. You try to contain the moans that threatened to spill out of your mouth, this was already embarrassing enough, getting yourself off of Nat’s thigh was humiliating.

But she grabbed your chin and turned your head so you were staring into her eyes, "Let those pretty moans out love, let me hear how good you're doing for me." Nat encouraged you and so you did as she said, moans and whimpers coming out of your mouth whilst your hips moved against the wet patch you've created on her pants.

The friction between her pants and your clit was a little painful and a little rough you had to admit but it felt so good so you moved your hips even faster, the knot in your stomach twisted even tighter, and you started to chase your high. The wet sounds you were making against her thigh echoed throughout the room, "Such filthy sounds you're making," Nat commented and her eyes were filled with a new light, "I'm starting to think you like doing this baby, not a punishment anymore is it ?"

Your hips were beginning to slow and she knew you were tired so she placed her hands on your hips guiding you against her thigh. The moans you let out increased and you could feel your release approaching, "P-please." you stuttered, "so close" you choked out, unable to say more words, too engrossed in your own pleasure. "Hold it." Nat said firmly. You threw your head back, trying your best to hold it, and Nat placed wet kisses along your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut, just as you knew you were about to come she held your hips in place, the stimulation you were getting got cut off.

You tried to move your hips, trying to gain any kind of friction, anything to make you cum, but Nat held your hips in place firmly, she chuckled at the sight of you, she loved playing with you. For once, you hated how she knew your body so well. Frustrated tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes and she caressed your cheek with one of her hands, "It's okay baby, you've done so good for me," she cooed, "Promise you, when mommy helps you it's gonna be so much better than what you would've gotten if I had allowed you to cum." and you nod, trying to do anything that would speed up the process to let you gain the satisfaction you desperately needed.

Nat stood up and carried you off her thigh, she placed you on the bed gently, "On your hands and knees pretty girl." she ordered and so you weakly got into the position she ordered you into. Whilst you got into the position, Nat took off her shirt and her full round breasts came into view.

You looked at them with your mouth agape and you heard her chuckle, "Looking at something ?" she asked. She then proceeded to take off her pants, the silicon strap on sprang out of her pants, and you gasped when you realised it was her favourite. The purple strap had a realistic feel, artificial veins were carved onto it, it was large, thick and long. She loved being able to fill you up completely and that was exactly what this strap did.

She turned back to the bed and climbed back into it, she placed herself right in front of your ass. Nat placed her hand on your waist which now had bruises and took the strap into her other hand. She teased your entrance, moving the strap up and down your slit, your wetness covered the tip, "Please mommy, please, just fuck me." you begged her, unable to take anymore teasing. "You can beg better than that." Nat shrugged, she thrusted her hips slightly and the tip of the strap entered you.

You whimper at the sensation just wishing for her to enter you fully. "Please mommy, please fuck me, I need you so bad, I'm so desperate for you, just need you to fuck me, please, I need you inside of me" you whine and Nat smiled, "Good fuckin' girl."

Then she thrust her hips fully, she didn't give you any warning. You let out a throaty yell at the unexpected action and your hands gripped the sheets tightly, you could feel the tip of the strap deep inside of you, Nat's pelvis against your stinging ass. "You're so wet I just slipped right in baby, didn't even need you to suck my cock." Nat said, both of her hands now on your waist. "You ready for me, sweetheart?" she asked, giving you time to adjust to the toy. You nodded frantically, "Yes please." you mumbled, and she smiled, "Such a polite little girl aren't you ?" Her upper body dipped to press a kiss to your cheek then she got right back up.

She started thrusting into you slowly, then building up the pace faster and faster. Each time her hips met yours, you could feel the tip of the strap hit your g-spot. You thanked the gods you finally had Nat’s full length right where you needed her, you felt so full but you still needed more, as if she could read your mind she pulled out the strap completely. Before you could ask her what she was doing, she slammed her hips right back against yours and you screamed. That movement alone could have made you cum.

"Gonna fuck you so good baby, you deserve this after waiting all day don't ya ?" she asked and you couldn't answer, your eyes rolled to the back of your head whilst Nat repeated that action of slamming into you again and again, "Gonna ruin you for everyone else, gonna make you feel me for days." Nat’s words drove you wild, the pleasure she gave you almost felt overstimulating. "Fuck..." she groaned as she drove into you at a brutal pace, each time her hips met your sore ass, it was a reminder of what she did to you earlier and a reminder that you were hers.

You wanted to respond to the filthy things she said but you couldn't, instead small murmurs of gibberish and untellable words came out, "What did you say ? Is mommy making you feel so good that you're going dumb ?" she asked, and it was true, only she could make you feel so good that your mind went dead and the words spilling out of your mouth became gibberish.

Nat’s hand reached for your neck and she pulled you up so you were on your knees, your back against her chest as she pounded into you. Her hand applied pressure against your neck, making whatever you were trying to say before unable to even come out of your throat. She attached her mouth to your neck, sucking on it and making sure that purple marks would appear on you tomorrow. "You look so pretty like this for me love, covered in my marks, me pounding into you, and all of you, completely at my mercy." She groaned as she thrusted into you even faster.

Her other hand on your waist now moved to the front, her middle finger and index finger found your clit and started circling around it, making you cry out a guttural scream, your back arched and you couldn't fathom how one woman could make you feel this way. "You wanna cum for me, sweet girl ?" Nat asked in such a sweet tone, it contrasted the way she was thrusting into you like there was no tomorrow.

You nodded and the only sound you could muster out of yourself was a small whimper and Nat immediately understood, "Cum all over my cock love, no need to hold it in," she whispered into your ear, "Been doing so good for me, go on baby." And the moment she finished what she said, your orgasm washed over you with a such a strong force, you never had one this good before. Nat continued pounding into you but with not as much force as she used before, slowly bringing you down from your high.

She carried you off the strap and layed you down on the bed, "You did so good for me I'm so proud of you love." she praised you, and she said a million different other things but your mind was too fuzzy to fully comprehend anything she said. All you knew was that you were thankful for her and every little thing she said.

Nat got off the bed and took the strap off of her before crawling back onto the bed. She pressed loving kisses up your body till she reached your face and she kissed you lightly on the lips. With you between her arms, she asked you, "You okay ?" and you nodded sleepily. "You wanna take a shower ?" she asked, and you shook your head, "Alright baby, we'll just stay here then, I'll give you a bath tomorrow, get all the rest you need right now, I know I did a number on you."

She pressed a kiss to your nose before lying down next to you. Her arms wrapped around your body and your legs tangled together between the sheets. You turned your body so you were facing her, you could feel each others breath on your skin and Nat said softly, "I love you," she kissed you lovingly all over your face, you giggled at the ticklish sensation before moving yourself so you were in a slightly more comfortable position.

Your head rested atop Nat's chest whilst her head rested on yours, her hands soothed your body comfortingly. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head every once in awhile with a small mumble of "I love you so much." and "You're the love of my life." You closed your eyes and almost immediately fell to sleep wrapped around Nat’s comforting frame.

She moved your hair to the side so she could kiss you again on your forehead and smiled at how pretty you looked as you slept. Slowly, Nat also closed her eyes and she fell asleep to the sound of your breath and her arms around your body.

a/n : hope y’all enjoyed this, it was super fun to write and my second fic on here :D likes, replies and reposts are appreciated mwahhhh 🫂🫂

[moonstruckme]

Hello:) maybe this a weird request ahah but I just got my n1pples pierced and I just know Sirius would go crazy for them, but what about James and Remus? Could you write something about poly!marauders (or whoever you think fits the most!) and Reader with those kind of piercings?

I'm sorry if this is too much or too personal! Thank you for your time<3

Hi lovely, you're so right! I decided to go with James because I think he'd be the most mystified by them, so I hope that's alright. Thanks for requesting :)

cw: pg-13 level smut

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 609 words

You’ve chosen a sheer top on purpose, so you can’t say you’re entirely surprised when James’ eyes go straight to your tits upon seeing you. 

“Baby.” The word comes out of him like an exhale, and you smile. “What’s happened to your nipples?”

You laugh. “They’re piercings, Jamie. It was intentional, I swear.” 

“You can pierce your nipples?” His eyes are huge behind his glasses, flitting between your chest and your face like he’s not sure where to look. “When did you have it done?”

“Last week,” you say. “I was waiting until they weren’t sore to show you.” 

“It’s so…hot.” James steps closer, transfixed. “I—wait.” He touches his fingertips to one corner of his mouth. “Am I drooling? I think I’m drooling.” You laugh again, and he grins at you, wrapping a big hand around either side of your waist. “Shit, sweetheart, they look so good. How long ‘til I can bite ‘em?”

Your expression sours. “Months. They take forever to fully heal.” 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, eager to rid you of your frown, “it makes sense that they would. Can I touch them?”

“Yeah,” you say, and James’ hands waste no time in slipping under your top, feeling upwards. “Just, be gentle for now, please,” you add hastily. 

He slows, probing carefully at the area around your nipples and watching your face for a reaction. “Do they hurt?” he asks, brows knitted in concern. 

You shake your head. “Not a lot. Not as much as they did at first.” 

He pouts at you, thumbs finding the cool metal and feeling about the piercings with curious, gentle touches. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, you should’a had me come with you.” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you say, and James smiles, dipping his head to kiss you. “Anyway, it was worth it.” 

“It is a great surprise,” he agrees. You chase him for more, pushing up on your tiptoes and taking his face in your hand. James’ grip tightens on your tits, careful not to push too hard near your piercings, but when his thumb brushes lightly over your nipple, you gasp.

He pulls back instantly. “Shit,” he says, hands sliding down to your sides, “I’m so sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you laugh. “No, the opposite.” James looks confused, and your grin turns bashful as you explain. “They’re still hurting a bit right now, but once they’ve healed enough that you can really touch them, they’re supposed to be more sensitive.” You give him a look, hoping he’ll catch your meaning. 

He does, his face lighting up. “You’re kidding.” 

You laugh. “I’m not.” 

James places a hand over his eyes and tilts his head back, as though communing with some higher power. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says. 

“The best thing?” you tease. “Christ, Potter, they’re just tits. I thought I was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to you.” 

“Oh, don’t start with me, sweetness.” James’ hand falls from his eyes, revealing pupils that nearly eclipse his irises. He starts for you, and you giggle, retreating until the backs of your legs hit the bed. “I’ve got months to show you how much I love you,” he says, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal, writhing in his grip as he buries his face in your neck. Even when you both fall backwards onto the bed James doesn’t relent, keeping you pinned beneath him while he kisses sloppily at your jaw, your shoulder, leaving spit and bite marks in his wake. “Months and months, before I get to show you how much I love them too.”

[hwanchaesong]

Can I request an Ateez Yeosang x reader where it's her first time everything? First time orgasm, first time squirt, first time having sex and she bleeds and freaks so he helps her and calms her through it? Very smutty and extremely fluffy?

a/n: ooh, this req surprised me ngl 😭 but this is an amazing idea! i hope you'll like this tho, i rlly tried my best to make it lovey dovey but still smutty 🙈

ps. this has been on my drafts for too long so here we go. and i'm so sorry because this is SO SO SO LATE

warning!!! smut under the cut so mdni!

It was the heat of the moment, the intense make-out session with your boyfriend really took a toll on you until you blurted out the words that would make you blush.

"Let's do it." you murmured against the lips of the man that you call your beloved.

Said man was named Yeosang, processing what you just said that made him cease all of his movements.

Both of you are in a compromising position. His hands are inside your shirt, feeling your burning skin while you sit on his lap, basically grinding against him.

"Are you sure?" he asks, sincerely gazing into your eyes to ensure that you're not saying it out of pressure.

You gently smiled at his considerate attitude, leaning in to peck his lips and smiling at him softly, "I'm sure."

There were a few moments of silence, still contemplating whether he should continue, not until you slightly moved on top of him, effectively rubbing your aching core against his hard on.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, shuffling around until he was able to lay you down on the mattress, "my baby is so impatient."

"I can't help it," you whined, gripping his shirt in an attempt to pull it off him, "I just.. want you so bad."

His eyes darkened, "Keep saying that, baby." he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body that made you drool before he leaned down, lips hovering above yours, "I might not be able to contain myself."

"Then don't."

He breathed through his teeth before aggressively kissing you once more, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and making sure to lick every crevice. A small yelp coming from you when you felt his hand grope your left breast, his thumb pushing on your nipple through your bra.

He went and sucked on your tongue, your face getting hot at the sensation while you let out a small moan.

He detaches his lips from you after a while, a string of saliva between you, a sign of the passionate make-out that took place.

"Let's remove this, yeah?" he smiled at you, taking your clothes off one by one until you're butt naked under him.

He told you he won't be able to behave, but look at him, treating you like glass. Like a goddess, and you love every moment of it.

"God, you're so beautiful." he complimented you, caressing your hips, lovingly staring at you while his hand crept up, feathery touches until he reached your face. "So perfect." he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear.

"Stop it!" you whined, your hands flying to cover your face, being shy at the attention you're getting from it.

"What?" he snickers, gently removing your hands and leaving a lingering peck on your cupid's bow before sliding his lips down your neck, his murmurs tickling your skin, "Just saying the truth."

"Oh-!" you were pleasantly surprised when he began kissing your neck, leaving some love marks here and there as his palm covered your chest, tugging on your nipples.

"Oh god, Yeosang." you moaned, now feeling his mouth on your mound, sucking on it and lightly biting.

Soon, his other free hand snaked into your stomach and down to your navel, squeezing your inner thighs before experimentally dipping a finger into your heat.

He released your nipple with a 'pop' sound, "Mmh, so wet for me already, baby?" he rhetorically asked, but you still nodded, eyes tightly shut as you're too focused on the newly found bliss.

His fingers easily find your clit, rubbing it in numbers and shapes that made your legs twitch, "Feels too good." you said, holding on to the sheets when you felt something.

Your breathing got heavy, focusing more on the jolting pleasure on your core, not until he stopped.

"Why?!" you cried out, opening your eyes and throwing your boyfriend a glare, frustrated that you couldn't reach your high.

Yeosang made a show of licking his fingers clean, "Sorry," he says, but without any remorse in his tone, "I kind of want you to cum on my tongue because look," he showed you his glistening digits, "you taste so good."

You whimpered, not knowing what to do with his dirty talks.

"Told you not to be impatient." he clicks his tongue, positioning himself in between your legs and taking a whiff of your scent. "Fuck, you smell so good too."

Then he dives him, earning him a gasp and a pull on his hair, courtesy of you because his wet muscle on your pussy makes you feel a lot of things. Heavenly things.

He laps at your juices, sucks on your clit and you twitch when you felt a wiggling finger inside you.

"More." you moaned, making him add another finger as he curled his digits around, finding your spongy spot that had you rolling your eyes.

"Oh god! Yes! I-I'm-" you wailed, getting the clue that you're close, Yeosang made more effort. He sucked harder on your clit, his fingers getting into a hellish pace until finally, you let the pressure on your lower belly go, but it felt.. wet. Too wet even.

"Holy crap." Yeosang smirked, your juices flowing down his chin and hands, "Did I just made you squirt?"

What? Squirt?

"I'm sor-" you began apologizing but he shut you up with a kiss, guiding your legs around his waist and putting your arms on his shoulders.

"Don't say sorry baby, it was hot." he smirked, then you felt his tip prodding at your entrance, "Are you really sure about this?"

You gazed into his bright, brown orbs. Full of worry and love, and at that moment, all you wanted to do is give yourself to him.

"Yes, I'm all yours."

"Alright then," he pushed only the tip but it was enough to stretch you out a bit, "I'll go slow. Tell me if you want to stop."

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling to prepare yourself. You know it will hurt. Based on what you read, heard, and see. But you trust the man on top of you, you know that he'll take care of you.

Yeosang started pushing in, inch by inch, tenderly massaging your hips as a way to give relief during the uncomfortable stretch.

"Ah!" you cried out, feeling your hymen break at the intrusion.

It was too painful, which was likely since it's your first time.

Then, something trickled.

Red.

"Shit!" he cursed, "You're bleeding, baby, fuck. I'm so sorry."

He panicked, which made you panic as well.

He hastily pulled out of you, standing up from the bed and getting some wipes to clean up the blood.

Damn it, he only sees this in movies. So, it really does happen in real life. What a fucking revelation for the both of you.

"Does it hurt?" he asked after a while, kissing your forehead and staring apologetically into your eyes, making sure that you're not in any kind of discomfort.

You actually felt like tearing up, how did you even manage to bag a man like him.

He's there, painfully hard and possibly at the verge of being blue balled but he ignores all that, choosing to focus on your well being.

"Yeosang," you called for his name, cupping his cheeks and kissing him passionately, "I'm fine. Let's continue."

"Are you sure? What if-"

You placed a finger on his lips, rolling over so now you're on top of him, the biggest signs for him to shut up and proceed with what is supposed to happen tonight.

"It's okay." you reassured him once more, kissing him fully as you do so, "I don't want to do this with anyone but you." you whispered against his lips, lifting your hips and doing the work of filling you up with his girth.

You gasped at the intrusion, feeling the stretch once more but it wasn't as bad as before.

You don't know where you're getting the confidence, but to hell with it, anyone would feel bold if your significant other looks at you like the deities sculpted you themselves.

Eyes full of warmth, longing, and desire.

To hell with everything.

You started moving without giving it any second thoughts, you are tired of waiting and you know that the stinging pain would soon go away.

"Slow down baby, I-" Yeosang mumbled, gripping your hips as a way to control your movements.

You really don't mind the burning feeling in your thighs as you move up and down on his length, but boy did you want to ignite a fire within him.

"If you want me to slow down," you whispered, "then make me."

Well, that did the trick. Yeosang's eyes darkened and the grip he has on your hips is now bruising, "Didn't take you for a brat, really."

He scoffs and he definitely does take control of the situation, stilling you on his lap as he closes his eyes.

Ah, this is life, he thinks.

The way your drenching pussy clenches on his cock. So warm, so good. He could seriously bust a nut from the feeling of you alone, but that wouldn't be fun now, isn't it?

Your moans got louder when he started drilling into you. You can't move as he restrains you in his lap, making him do all the work, rutting his hips until your juices are rolling down your inner thighs and drips onto his own skin.

"Yeosang!" you whined his name, his unforgiving pace made you throw your head back, getting dizzy from the pleasure.

"Take it, baby." he says, his thrusts getting erratic as he chased his high while simultaneously waiting for you to finish first.

"Yeosang, I'm close." you panted, throwing your palms against his chest as an attempt to stabilize yourself.

"Cum all over me, princess." he says hotly, taking one of your hands and bringing it up to his mouth, sucking on your index and middle finger.

He really knows how to rile you up, and that was just enough for you to combust when you truly felt his tongue circling around your digits. Coming all over his length, your clenching heat allows him to finally cum as well, your insides milking him dry.

He went and grabbed your neck, bringing you in for a hot and messy kiss, panting against each other's mouth as you both came down from your high.

"That was so good." you smiled, clinging to him and wanting to go to sleep when the tiredness seeps into your muscles.

"Sleepy?" he asked you, to which you could only nod.

"Alright, let's clean up first so we're not sticky." he says, giving you a final kiss before preparing to stand up, "I love you."

You laughed, giddy and still feeling the dopamine in your veins, "I love you more."

[bloodycassian]

Divinity - threesome, Azriel x Reader x Cassian - smut with plot.

Angst and pining turns into tender smut - skip to +++++++++++ for just the smut.

warnings and themes below -

dirty talk, P in V, Oral, praise kink (slightly), mating bond, mentions of blood, mentions of death, stalker-ish behavior, suggested bondage, suggested BDSM/brattamer!Azriel, thoughts of suicide, jealousy and envy, alcoholism, mentions of painkillers

Cassian was a dog. He knew it but watched anyway. He didn’t know why it happened, why it had to be you, but he didn’t bother to deny the insatiable craving he had for you when he was this deep into his cups. He turned into an utter and complete animal for the sight of you before him. He was already drooling. He’d be on all fours in a second if it’d appease you. Entranced, he followed your every move, eyes lingering on all the perfect curves and dips of your body as you danced.

Then came the hands upon your hips, so similar to his own, in all but the scarring. 

His own brother in bond didn’t know how Cassian lusted for you. How, in the darkest nights when he knew none would hear, he often pleasured himself to the mental image of you. He once feared Azriel has become aware of the way he felt about the shadowsinger’s mate, but there was never an attempt on Cassian’s life. Surely if Azriel had known, Casisan would be dead on the spot. 

He his behind his pint, taking a long sip before banishing you from his mind. 

He turned in his chair, facing the rest of the crowd that swayed to the band’s music. His stomach clenched and unclenched, as if  not leering at the one he lusted for warred with his very being. He ached. His body, his mind, something deep inside his chest, in his diaphragm keened and pitched - gods he was drunk.

He slapped down a few gold marks and slid from his chair, pushing his hair back from his eyes. Sickness overwhelmed him exiting the bar. Patrons rustled in and out, several attractive fae that gave him looks as he strode out. None seemed quite right though. None were you.

He doubled over and vomited in the streets of Velaris. 

+

He found solace only when you shared quiet evenings together at dinner, Azriel idly brushing lightly over your hand and serving you different foods. Envy gripped Cassian, a noose and a leash. His guide and his demise. He couldn’t look his brother in the eyes when you were around. 

At least his body wasn’t aching. 

+

He found more and more reasons to be around you. His headaches and nausea were growing worse by the week. He’d visited Madja at least three times in the last month, but nothing could be done about his condition. “Perhaps you should take a break from Ritas, General.” She’d scolded, eyeing the way his hands shook and his pallor. 

He hadn’t admitted how the pain only subsided when you were around. If you were his solution, then he’d find another. Eventually. When he had the time. 

But he was so consumed by the pain, he found himself merely enduring life when you weren’t around. Rhys had even begun to question him, commanding that Cassian go to the Illyrian healers and make sure that the more spiritual side of him was alright. He knew how skeptical Rhys was concerning the ‘mage’ centers there, therefore it was no comfort that he’d been so adamant about it.

Cassian drifted. He drank more. He wallowed around at the house of wind, just to be free of the hold the pain had on him. It seemed to be the only place he could find relent from the aching in his diaphragm. His hands shook in the mornings after he’d dreamed of you, just a few doors away. He wondered if you felt his heated presence when he was around, if you saw the way his eyes widened and how he seemed unable to breathe properly when looking into your eyes. 

Then he’d glance over to where Azriel stood, strapping on his belt of weapons or leaping form the balcony, and the shame would shatter him. He’d hide from you for days at a time while Azriel was away, hoping to the Mother that his cock didn’t get him assassinated by his own brother. 

He would leave - he should leave. But what the hel was he meant to do about the migraines, the stomach cramps that accompanied him departing your vicinity? 

He could stay, and risk becoming a homewrecker, or he could leave and be hollowed out on the inside by some of the most intense internal pain he’d ever experienced.

He almost wished Azriel would end him.

+

The illyrian camps were the same as they’d always been. A part of him joyed in seeing the soldiers take up guard as he flew over. He was the Lord of Bloodshed here. A traitor, the male who’d killed an entire village of them for what they’d done to his mother. He would not be disrespected here. 

He winced at the landing, the only thing keeping him flying being the pain management he’d bought from the back alley of a mage’s shop. One known for peddling above average doses. 

He knew drinking himself stupid wouldn’t get him all the way to the Steppes. He also knew showing up to the mages caves would be somewhat dangerous, espically not knowing what’ they’d need to do to fix him. So he’d paid a hefty bag of coin for the shiny purple bottles, and it’d paid off. He would need to be sober for this interaction. 

The front door was a ragged, sunbleached patchwork of driftwood from the beach down the mountain. The gaps between packed with mud and moss, carvings dotting every surface. Some were clearly from children, faded scrawled names and hearts and wings. The majority of the others were symbols, whorls and shapes that almost resembled letters.

He knocked lightly, then entered. The sun on his back disappeared, and his teeth chattered slightly, not entirely from the shade.

“A rare visit from a royal such as yourself” A female voice called, deep and soft and something he would have found sultry if he could think of any female but you. She appeared from behind a partition, holding a bowl with twigs and things rising from the edges. 

He straightened as she breathed deeply. Her eyes flickered beneath her lids, scenting him. Taking stock of his recent history. He shuddered, and the pain lanced through him for a moment. His teeth ground together. He would not fear a female as small as her. But the power she held… it seemed to radiate from her, like the embrace of a fire. 

“I am no royal. I just happen to have a convenient connection to some.” He quipped back, mood souring as his pain spiked and faded. The sawing knives in his gut had grown sharper and hotter with every wingbeat away from Velaris before he’d taken the potion a quarter of the way to the Steppes. Was it already wearing thin? 

“What ails you then, Lord of Bloodshed?” She cocked her head to the side, daring him to dispute his battle earned title. She ran a finger over the lip of the bowl, her eyes tracking the movement of his hand to the center of his torso.

“Shouldn’t you know by now?” He couldn’t help the hand he used as support in that aching spot, just between his ribs. He wasn’t dying, he knew that at least. He’d been close enough to death before to know what it’d be like when it truly came for him. 

“I sense pain, yes. But to truly know you’d have to allow me access to  the afflicted area.” 

Reluctantly, he followed her to the area behind the partition, which was beautifully adorned with dried herbs upon the wall, hanging upside down from several strings. The candlelight flickered over every surface, making shadows dance and radiate a warm glow over the bed upon the floor. 

He removed his tunic. Her eyes darted over his body, every part of his sculpted muscle. Her tongue flicked over her lips. “If you want your coin, you’ll quit smiling like that.” He warned. 

She hissed a laugh, but motioned for him to lay flat on the bed. 

“You may find these methods strange, and different from how your healers in the courts handle things. But you must trust that I am going to help you.” She began, the words practiced and falling from her tongue so quickly he could hardly keep up with the pounding in his head. 

“We will begin with a full body check.” She lit something that began smoldering on a shelf to her side. “I will be sensing your energy from your key points, finding the difficult areas and allowing that to guide me where I sense it is taking me.” Something wet smeared against his cheekbones, but he was beginning to ease into the process with much more willingness now as she explained. 

“It may seem like your afflicted areas become hot or tense when we begin to heal them, but please refrain from moving. The flow of energy is determined by your positioning and your emotion.” She was prepping more things, her honey smooth voice lulling him into a trance. More cool sensations dotted his chest, his abdomen. “If you are running, your body sends more energy to your heart. When you are trying to think of things, more to your mind. Just as a plant cannot grow without enough sunlight, we may not grow without enough positive energy. 

Her hand began at his head, kneading his greased hair and the ever present headache eased into a dull hum behind his eyelids. Her fringers traced over his skin, goosebumps breaking out every time they skimmed too lightly. His mind went blank at the warm pressure when he would push lightly on whatever key points she spoke of. Moving to his face, then his shoulders and chest. 

She eased downwards, the moment she skipped over the center he was arching up, pain lancing through him like a hot spike. A firm hand on his shoulder held him down. His eyes flashed open and panic corrupted his mind. 

“You must relax your body, Cassian.” A voice, not the woman’s languid tone but one that was much more intimately familiar to him. One that set his head spinning and stomach doing flips. One he’d imagined everything from fighting with to fucking with. 

But there was no way you were here, this was a trick of the mind. He knew that. He knew it. 

But it worked. And once he was able to relax his muscles again, the roaring pain in his muscles eased. It faded to little more than a dull ache. And for the first time in months, he went fully and completely unconscious. 

+

“I’ve never experienced such a through sickness such as yours, General. What a grip that female holds on you.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“You came here for answers, didnt you? You left your answer back in Velaris.” She pulled a rag from her makeshift sink and tossed it to him. “She is all you need. Your mate. Some scholars believe that-”

“What are you talking about?” He repeated again, his voice echoing through the cave.

She leveled him a look, one that had him straightening. “As I was saying - some scholars believe the refusal of the mating bond is powerful enough to kill. I suggest courting her, if you wish for the pain to ease more quickly.” 

“I don't understand what you are saying. She has a mate. I-” He stammered for the words, unable to comprehend what this female was telling him. Was Rhys right, was all this a scam? A show of something desired for a quick pocket of coin? But that pain he’d experienced - it was eased now. As if temporarily fended off by her power. 

“It is possible to have more than a single mate, Cassian. Especially if both parties of the mated pair are willing.” 

“It is unheard of. Azriel wouldn’t allow it.” He attempted an angry tone, but everything seemed distant and far away. 

Her eyes flashed with the glean of the information. But she kept her composure otherwise. It must have brought pity, from the way her face softened. “Perhaps you do not know all of the Shadowsinger’s secrets. He likely has more than you know.” She blew out the incense and a few of the candles. “But there is no denying that there is a tether in you. A mating bond, quite strong if you’ve been having effects this violent.”

He sat, head spinning. His stomach pitched, but for once it wasn’t because of the illness that infected him when you weren’t around. 

“What do I do, how do I-” His lips were moving, but the words seemed spoken by someone else. He was far, far away from his body and his mind was numb with shock. The words died in his throat before he said them. There wasn’t a single right question to get the answers he needed, and it left him to an ocean of self pity to wallow in. 

“Go to them. At the very least it will ease your suffering.” 

But he was already striding out, leaving a sack of gold marks on the floor behind him. “Mother watch over you, lord of bloodshed.” Her voice echoed through his mind the entire journey home. 

+

Azriel’s mind tricks were strictly forbidden during training, which meant the sight of Cassian approaching with nothing but his leathers on and nothing more than a dagger at his side was real. A rare sight of the General without a sword strapped at his back. His hair was also different, disheveled more than usual. As if he’d been running his hands through it for hours. He was pale, deep purple marks beneath his eyes, standing out even against his dark skin. 

“Cas, what is it?” Azriel turned to the male, not bothering to take up a defensive stance even when Cassian approached him in the ring. 

Something was wrong. Deeply, truly wrong then. 

“I need to speak with both of you.” He said, his voice like gravel. Like he’d been screaming. 

You approached, and they seemed to have a silent exchange. Something in Cassian’s eyes hardened when he looked to the shadowsinger, and there was the slightest nod as he handed Azriel the blade, hilt first. 

Your mate took it uneasily. You’d never seen Azirel seem so uncomfortable with a weapon in hand. He held it loosely, as if it pained him. 

“I can’t say this right. There is no way for me to be able to ever apologize for this. But I need to at least say it once. I am sorry for this. I am sorry for how this is about to fuck everytyhing up. Azriel I understand however you react, and I hope, if you decide to kill me, it is with that blade.” He nodded to the one he’d brought, the tip of it pointed to his stomach. 

“Cassian what-” You began, but his eyes flashed with such pain, such torment and pleading, that it took your breath away. He held your gaze and steadied his mind. This was it then, the moment he’d always hoped for, in some sick way. A part of him joyed that he’d die and no longer have to live with the agonizing guilt. 

“You’re my mate.” He said it, lip curling in disgust at himself. He said it, and seemed to deflate. Azriel was silent, your mouth agape as everything quieted. A beat, two, three. “I’m know it’s at least you. I’m not sure, Azriel if-” He began rambling, his cheeks flaring red beneath the bronze of his skin. The tips of his rounded ears turning a shade of pink. 

Something aligned inside you. Something deep and powerful, shifting the world beneath your feet and settling you into a new reality that seemed wholly incomplete without Cassian. Your eyes went to Azriel for the smallest second, attempting to make sense of what had been said. 

Your mate - your mate, the one you couldn’t imagine life without. The strongest male you’d ever met stood beside you, shaking. 

His shoulders seemed to crumple inwards, his hands trembling fiercely. 

The blade dropped the the ground, the shrill sound of it shocking you from your stupor. Azriel was moving before you could say anything. His hands went to Cassian’s shoulders, pushing him back, and back - stumbling backwards until they were both on the ground. “I asked for the blade-” Cassian ground out.

But Azriel was not choking Cassian, as you thought he may be. When you approached, Azriel was merely staring at him, his eyes locked on the other males in challenge, and in something like awe. 

The same way he watched you, you realized. Your breath hitched in your throat. 

Cassian’s eyes went wide with shock, then they went glassy. His brows pulled up in the middle, and he was breathing something - chanting something over and over. Through the roaring in your ears, his voice  seemed to slip through. A tether, a bond slipping past your mental walls. 

“She was right. She was right, she was right she was right-” It chanted over, and over.

You gripped Azriels shoulder, pulling him backwards off of Cassian. Both of them lay where they’d landed, victims to the reality that was your newly shared bond. 

A tangle of emotion shot through you, forcing you to the ground with them. Pain welled in your mind, your stomach and Azriel groaned along with you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry-” You weren’t sure if the quivering words were coming from Cassian’s mouth or if they were his mental voice, but it cracked and splintered through your very soul. 

The world seemed to be collapsing, turning inward and eating itself whole. Pain and joy, laced with the scent of sea air and warm woods invaded your mind. Light and fear and an all consuming love roared through every bone in your body along with that seaside forest. Your blood sang with it. You could practically taste it upon your tongue, it was so potent. Through a sea of despair and grief, relief flooded your lungs and refilled you with life again. Cassian. You couldn't’ breathe. Not when his mental self was so all consuming. 

Cassian’s presence flowed through you on a bridge of broken, fired swords melded together with every step he took upon them. Every lick of his essence upon them firing them together, forging a bond of unbreakable steel. 

Another angle of anger, a deep rage and pity appeared. Azriel. You’d know his darkness anywhere, it was a part of you. It was the part of you that was so essential, so ingrained into your life, that you couldn’t imagine living without him. His passion, his smile, his laugh, his eyes - mother above, you were nearly knocked breathless waking up to him every morning. You gripped on to the bond, familiar and comforting as he slid into your mind, meeting you halfway. He embraced you for only a moment, not lingering at your side. His presence flew to the new section of your shared mental space, erupting from the black space like an island from the ocean.

 The bond quivered beneath his wrath, threatening to break that path of shadowy webs and ice. A glacier. that's what Azriel was in comparison. But with the heat of Cassian’s forged bridge, it was not unpleasant. You shied away from neither of them. 

Something happened then, something that was so unexpected from the two of them that it had you questioning what you sensed. A truce of sorts seemed to unfold before you as their presence met in your mind. 

Azriel’s northern drift of snow and ice faltered upon meeting Cassian’s wall of flame. They twined around each other, and a great column of wind flowed between the three of you. Emotion raged, jealousy, resentment, brutality and violence. It was dizzying. But then there was also an undeniable love. A tender, tentative love that shone through it all.  Harmony, and heated desire. A shiver rolled through you, and their presence both seemed to turn towards yours for an instant, distracted. There, in that moment, an unbreakable bond of care radiated from both of them - at war with the violence that begged to be released.

 Your mind was lost to it all, strewn wherever it took you. Indignation, then mouth watering need. Sorrow, then shame. You wished you could stop them, to throw yourself between them and endure the pain of it all alone. You would take it. The honesty of the realization shocked you. You’d easily take the burden of it all if it meant you could have them both, still, without the pain you were feeling second hand. 

The same care washed through them. You could feel it, as real and palatable as the chilled wind that washed over your physical body. 

Light flashed, blinding and warm, and it was over. The sky appeared before you, painted pink from the sunset that shone over Velaris. 

The wind you’d felt had been Azriels shadows gathering, black as the deepest part of the oceans and just as cold. He was standing first, his teeth chattering as he helped you, then Cassian to a standing position. 

“I always thought the bond between us was somehow different than how I felt with Rhys… Like there was an entire world more -” Azriel admitted, his cheeks flushing. Their presence in your mind rose and fell together like the sleeping breaths of a giant.

“I didn’t know. I am truly sorry Azriel-”

You were shocked yet again by Azriel’s next words. “Apologizing is a waste of time. We’ve been destined together, likely for longer than we have been.” He gripped your hand for a moment and squeezed. You weren’t offended. It was probably true, and they’d both been in denial of it for a long, long time. You’d only met Azriel a few hundred years ago, in a freak accident in the Hybern sea - and it had seemed too strange to be anything other than the Caludron mixing your lives together. 

But why had fate - the mother - waited so long to pull the three of you together? 

The questions were forced to wait. 

++++++++++

Azriel pulled you both close, then he was winnowing you together into the house of wind, back to your room. The clothes strewn on the bed felt embarrassing now, but Cassian took in the details greedily. You blocked out the heat that flooded his bridge at the sight of the hook points on the bedposts. Azriel’s coolness fluttered with amusement. You smacked his arm, and he hid his grin while watching the other Illyrian. 

It all seemed so natural, as if accepting Cassian as your mate was as easy as speaking to him.  It fell so in line with how the male truly was. It wasn’t a stretch or any kind of adjustment to make at all, it was as if you’d turned your head and he’d been there all along. Waiting, hoping and hungering after you.

The weapons upon the wall, the shelf of odd books on the other side of the room, even the bedspread were not unfamiliar to Cassian. The books were ones Cassian knew well, from basics of different fighting styles to tomes on battle strategy from all areas of the world. He’d envied Azriel for several of the weapons mounted beside them, most of them won in battles. 

Azriel noticed his admiration and smiled - the two had always had similar taste, after all. The General’s eyes shifted to the other pile of books and slips of paper upon the desk, full of different sketches and stories to be told and read. The empty glasses of water and scattered clothes left atop the bed. 

His eyes settled upon you, his eyes taking on a new confidence, like he’d learned enough from the small observations in your room and he now felt equipped for what was undeniably coming next. He could feel it, roiling beneath his skin, a beast of lust and greed lurking inside him. It took all his strength not to allow it freedom. To battle it every second with you so heated and flushed before him, laid bare on that bond - opened wide to both you and Azriel’s raging desire to claim you..

“This is going to be delectable.” Azriel’s dark voice purred in your mind. Then, the vision of you and Cassian locked in a melting kiss appeared. It was something you’d seen more than a few times when you and Azriel envisioned bringing a third into the bedroom. Your heart sped, forcing blood to pump thickly through your throat. 

“Kiss her.” Azriel suggested, his eyes skimming over Cassian’s body as if drinking him in. As if he were finally allowed to do such a thing. 

“Az, I-” Ever the gentleman, Cassian had to enforce some kind of hesitation, for respect alone. He shivered at even the idea, his mind bending to the thought more than it did with a High Lord’s order.

“She likes it slow, at first.” Azriel described, and you could feel the heat flooding through the bond, swelling your desire further. The anticipation tingled upon your tongue. The green tinged nerves that flowed from Cassian made racing to his hand easier. He didn’t need much convincing to grip yours back, glancing between you and Az. 

“Grip her ass, pull her in and it’ll set her off.” The shadowsinger smiled at your glare, and placed a hand on the small of Cassian’s back, leading him forward. You couldn’t deny the pure heat that coursed through your veins at the sight of your mate wanting another male to fuck you. “Once she’s earned it, I mean.” He ended with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes, and raised your free hand to brush away strands of Cassian’s hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “I’m looking forward to not having to deal with him alone any longer.” You let a finger drag over Cassian’s jawline, and he shivered.

Flames rushed down those mental bridges, Azriel’s just as intense as Cassian’s despite fact that the Shadowsinger stood to the side. Shadows darkened the room around you, the anticipation from Azriel apparent through the outline of his trousers. He gave you a nod with those darkened eyes, making your stomach flip, and you stripped your clothes off quickly. Eagerly, you realized with a small part of your mind that was not entirely consumed with arousal.

 Laid bare before them both, on the edge of the bed, just how Azriel’s eyes had suggested. Azriel knew just how to have you obey him. Just like how he knew to push the right buttons when he wanted you to give him attitude so he could punish you. It was a silent, wicked game you played together in private, but with Cassian here… Doubt crept in. A whisper of his thought floated to you. “Another time. He will not be punishing you until we go over rules first, darling.”  Your gaze flicked from Cassian, then back to him. He’d somehow bypassed Cassian with his implanted thought. You could see his pride shimmering behind his eyes at his accomplishment. 

He was cautious with his testing, you could feel it now, the way he cast shadows from your side of the conjoined bridges, to Cassian’s, then back. Attempting to find weak points, or ways to block out you and him. You would have glared at him, if it weren’t for the way he was also palming the hardness in his leathers. Your mouth popped open at the sight. Two males, both powerful and gorgeous and ready to fuck you. 

More than that. They were ready to lay their lives down for you, if it were commanded of them. This was far, far more than just a threesome. You’d have time for those relevations later, though. You reached down, toying with yourself, reveling in the way both of their eyes tracked the movement and how they both swore.

“Dont be shy now, Cas.” Azriel encouraged, his hands going to gently guide the larger male. The feel of the other Azriel’s skin against his own was like kindling to his flame, and the lord of bloodshed would never admit to the way his eyes fluttered back, pulling on years of hard willed training to not devour you before him. 

Here he was getting exactly what he’d envied Azriel for - Hel, being told to take you by Azriel.. And he was still cautious. He blamed his warrior mind. It was a trick, some way to test his loyalty, it had to be… but he coldn’t deny that connection in his mind that he now felt.

You gave a sinister smile, sensing just what your actions were doing to him, and winked. Upon the first touch of his hands - both of their hands - it was hard to hold back. Hard to keep from pulling them to you and fucking them both right there. It sent sparks to the base of your spine, heat to fuel your very bones. Cassian’s breath shuddered from him at the softness of your body, at the way Azriel was guiding him to touch you. 

Thighs, rubbing - massaging really - heavy, petting strokes of his calloused hands everywhere that he’d desired to touch for so long. Everywhere but your glistening cunt, which he scented with every breath. His mouth watered, but even when Azriel stepped away to watch from the end of the bed, Cassian didn’t immediately go to the feast before him. 

No, he wanted this to last. He wanted to savor every part of this experience. So he broke away for only a second to undo his belt, pull down his trousers and give himself a slight relief from the pressure building inside him. 

His cock was a gorgeous thing to behold. He was thicker than Azriel, but a bit shorter, and the slickness of his head had you anticipating the moment you’d taste him. You sat up to do just that, but a rope of Azriel’s shadow whipped forward and guided you back to the bed. You were going to protest but Cassian was grinning at the other Illyrian. 

“We can communicate openly or -” Cassian’s raspy mental voice lowered, and some part of you knew that the next words were just for you. “Privately. Just us, just for him or me or -” Cassian’s voice took on a more echoing tone next. “I can let you both know just how badly I want to bury my cock inside you.”

Your thighs clamped shut on his hands as he ended the thought with a soft thumbstroke over your clit. Azriel hissed, and you whimpered. The male atop you sucked the pad of his thumb between his lips and sighed. “Fucking delicious.” He muttered, his voice similar to his mental tone. 

His wings flared out, and he knelt before you, finally getting a full taste of your arousal. The heat of him was immeasurable, all consuming and completely fucking wonderful. He groaned into it, looking up to watch you, his mouth atop your clit. He lapped at it slowly while you arched and reached for anything - wanting to have Azriel in your hand, your mouth - anywhere. But he only shook his head, the corner of his lip pulling up slightly as he watched.

“Please-” You whined, unable to stop the way your body rolled and ground harder onto Cassian’s mouth. 

“Fuck-” Azriel panted, his hand steadying at the base of his cock. A bead of precome appeared at the tip, and he dabbed it with his finger. The next moment he was right at your side, shadows swirling from winnowing. His finger traced over your lips a moment before you sucked it into your mouth, reveling in the taste, the weight of it. It would have to suffice until he’d give you what you truly wanted. 

Cassian’s tongue flicked greedily lower, soaking you further with his saliva. You rocked into it, needing more than just the teasing licks. Your core ached, need turning into something that was controlling your very action, no matter how depraved. His tongue dipped into your hole, fucking you there for a moment while your eyes rolled back. You squirmed, locking your legs behind his head and pulling him deeper, closer, angling for more. You need the stretch, the fullness of his cock inside you.  the filthy exhilaration of his muffled moan had your legs quivering, weakening their hold enough for him to break away. Your insides quivered around the loss, and a wave of near orgasm pleasure washed through you, forcing your legs to shake. 

Had that feeling been Azriel? You hadn’t been touched nearly long enough to be so close already. Was Cassian - no, Cassian’s length didn’t reveal the same amount of slickeness that Azriels did. You shuddered at the thought of how much this was doing for Azriel. He’d wanted something like this for so long, but had always been too territorial to allow someone else in. The mother seemed to have answered his wish, and Cassian’s in one go.

Cassian sat up on his knees, a wide, smug smile spreading across his soaked lips. The shine of your wetness on his chin and nose sent you into a frenzy, and you moved to sit up, to taste yourself upon him. before you could, Azriel was at his side, kissing him, lapping it from him. Your mouth fell open, dry from the moaning. 

Watching them together was truly a gift. An extension of yourself felt exactly what they were experiencing, and that alone was so intense and heady you could barely focus on actually looking at the two. Cassian’s broad body was so different from Azriel’s lithe figure, so at odds with how many of your lovers in the past had been built. It made the need for his cock even more heightened. 

Their hands coasted over the plains of each other’s chests, their muscled backs, caressing and being much more tender than you anticipated them to be. Then Cassian’s hand landed at the base of Azriel’s cock, and pumped once. Az’s eyes flashed open, wide and wild. His teeth bared, his shadows devoured him and he re appeared at your head, his cock dripping precome onto your cheek. A rope of shadow pulled your leg back, allowing Cassian easy access.

“Fuck her good Cass.” He growled, then sighed at the heat of your mouth around him. You moaned around it, taking him in deep and humming as Cassian’s blunt head pressed against your entrance. 

He was fire, and he was all consuming, setting flame to every part of you he touched. Pure lava coursed through your veins once he entered you. The first few inches were bliss, and he kept going, and going, sinking into you until you were sure there was no space left to fill. There was nowhere for him to go but he kept pressing, pulling out and nudging back in, slickening his length more with your own juices so he could push in farther. Your mind buzzed with satisfaction. 

“So fucking tight.” He breathed, sweat appearing at his brow. Azriel relieved your mouth and instead positioned himself to your side, summoning at pillow for your head so he no longer had to hold you in place. No, he had much more important things to do with his hands. He languished in his strokes, matching the easy pace that Cassian set. Whining, you reached for him but were denied. 

A warning growl sounded in your mind, the desperation there palpable. He was on the brink, and just from watching. You cursed under your breath, but didn’t push him to give you what you wanted.

You watched Cassian break you apart, separating your lips and pushing deep until he bottomed out, a pinching sensation radiating through you, only to be drowned away by the exquisite pleasure of being so full. 

He rested there for a moment, and Azriel pulled at his cock idly, keeping himself hard while he watched was not a problem, fuck he’d do better with a break so he wouldn’t finish before Cassian.. His balls had tightened to the point of pain, forcing him to choose cumming down your throat or calculating the distance between his bedroom and the shop he’d have to visit tomorrow to buy a contraceptive tea blend. That worked to cool him off.

He was not here for the destination, he reminded himself.. The journey of discovery was something that thankfully would take several, several tries. Over years. Centuries, he hoped.Centuries. His mind unraveled that. Getting to know Cassian on the level he’d always wanted to. Getting to have experiences like this for centuries. His chest filled with heat, a different kind than the one that fueled him to nearly cumming in his own hand. 

It still nearly happened, watching Cassian lick his thumb and circle it over your clit while he pulled out, and gently pushed back into you. Blinding pleasure chased every rub, every thrust, and you pushed away his hand after a few more. “So close already?” He smirked, satisfied with his work.

He glanced to Azriel, and hissed under his breath at the perfection of the male. “I can feel her tightened up, nice and close for me.” Cassian said with a snap of his hips forward. You garbled some plea and tugged on the shadow bound leg that Azriel commanded. With your other hooked around Cassian’s back, you could almost force him deeper, to give you the angel that would have you coming undone around him.

“You like his cock, honey? You can tell me.” Azriel hummed.

Guilt did not burden you at this simple, animalistic pleasure. Not when there were two other sources of ecstacy contributing to your heady need. You nodded fervently, allowing them both to see how you’d truly become engulfed by the pleasure they provided. 

“Good. That’s a good girl, taking him so well.” He bit his lower lip and groaned. “I can feel you, like a ghost. This bond will be the death of me.” Azriel’s cock wept heavily, coating him with slick precome that you wished he’d let you taste. But every time you feebly reached for him, he’d sway from your touch. 

Cassian’s cock surged inside you, pressing up just as he thrust inward. Your body responded with a clench of your pussy around his girth, and gasps and moans echoed through the room, and there were no more games with either of them.

Azriel’s shadow melted away, and his cock was in your mouth at the same moment. Cassian sucked a mark onto your breast, and with both legs free you were able to latch around him and arch into his thrusts, meeting him with every one. 

Salt tanged your tastebuds as Azriel fucked your mouth, his hand keeping you in time with Cassian’s pace. And gods with every one of Cassian’s long, delicious thrusts he ground down onto your clit, sending you barreling towards the edge you weren’t sure if you were ready to be thrown from yet. 

You pulled Cassian forward slightly with your legs, angling him better and - gods. Your eyes rolled, and wetness seemed to burst from your pussy from the way the sound of Cassian’s cock sliding from you changed. Your toes curled, your mind went blank. There was nothing but the muffled, desperate moaning and ragged breaths as the pleasure tore through you. It was violent, and had you writhing on the sheets with the intensity of it.

Your walls spasmed, a hot and intense orgasm ripping through you and leaving you unable to move other than the rhythmic sway of your hips, silently bargaining for more once the intensity died down. Thankfully, Azriel had enough experience with your post orgasm needs that he continued fucking your mouth.

“Fu-u-uck-” Cassian drew the word out, and his eyes squeezed shut. Azriel’s hand tightened in your hair, then he held you there, his cock shoved deep in the back of your throat as he came and came, a breathy mess of loud moaning. 

Cassian wasn’t more than a second behind, spilling into you with a roar that managed to rip through your post-orgasm bliss. The feel of him, of his cum filling you sent your body into a heated need for more. You pulled back from Azriel, his hands had been frozen in your hair even after he’d finished. You climbed to Cassian, fixing your hands upon his broad shoulders and pushing his cock even deeper as you climbed him.

He knew what you wanted. What you needed. He grinned, eyes wild. And though he still shook from his own orgasm, hauled you up and off the soaked bed with corded, trained muscles. He pushed you to a small section of undecorated wall, and pined you there with ease. 

“Greedy thing, aren’t you?” He rumbled, pulling your thighs high up his hips and fucking you hard and fast. Gods this was for you, all of him, and Azriel both -  for you and he was giving it his all- You could hardly think of how lucky you were with his cock nudging into that small place inside you with every brutal thrust.

He was muttering filthy things in your ear, getting you closer with every action. “Y’Just need to cum again, don’t even care how. Gods I can feel you-” He sighed, and his jaw ached with how badly he wished he could finish again, to have you quivering upon his cock as he came into you until you were both fully spent.

Azriel lay on the bed, watching and idly toying with himself, his cheeks flushed and shadows coasting over his thighs. His cock stood proudly, shining with your leftover saliva and his own pleasure. 

Cassian was not forgiving. He pounded into you ruthlessly, rattling the swords and artwork upon the wall. You curled into him, meeting his every thrust with arched eagerness that had you building to another quick, exhilarating finish that left you panting, clawing at his back. The intensity of this one had you shuddering, crumpling in his grasp, and he rode you through it, fucking into you with the same harshness as he had been.

Only when your teeth let the skin of his chest free did he relent with slower, softer rolls of his hips until he was sure you didn’t want more. Until he was sure he couldn’t make you finish again. He wanted to make you like this every hour, every minute of the day now that he’d had a taste. IT would be hard to do anything but this for his foreseeable future. To have you so in his grasp, so tangible now… he still only half believed this was real, and not a dream.

He decided that before he woke, if this really were a dream, he’d treat you right. Both you and Azriel. He lay you down next to Azriel, and pulled his cock free from you. A wash of his cum followed, soaking the bedding further. He stood back a moment, marveling at both his mates.

He would have to make sure to give Azriel more time during their next round. He’d been so consumed with you it had been hard to focus on anything but you and the encouraging words and feelings from Azriel.

The sight before him was his future, and all that mattered in it. His reason, his divine destiny from the Mother. He blinked the tears away before they could pour over.

Cassian joined his mates, avoiding the large wet spots on the bedding. “I hope to the Mother that these sheets actually get washed and not Glamoured…” He grumbled, eyeing the room around him. The house deposited a stack of books upon the end table a moment later. Cassian picked one up. 

“Mothering of the Fae and other Species of Prythian, by Lidia Knight.” He read the title aloud, then glared at the ceiling. Azriel looked over your blissful expression, to his new mate, and laughed.

[wileys-russo]

please write a blurb about finding out that Lessi takes street dancing lessons, going with her to one and then her just being so clumsy!!! It’s so funny

this is longer than anticipated and went in a slightly different direction. starts off a little angsty but the end is super fluffy, still made me giggle

fancy footwork II a.russo

you sighed and tried your very best not to let your mind slowly descent into wildly overthinking the situation as you tapped your phone screen and saw it was now nearing seven, and there was still no sign of alessia.

your girlfriend had finished training at half past four and was supposed to come right home, but given it was hours later and she wasn't picking up her phone she'd clearly failed to inform you of plans she'd made.

well, thats what you were trying to tell yourself. it would be a whole lot easier if this was the first time this had happened, however it was not.

for the last two weeks alessia had seemed not herself, often home late without a real reason, or dipping off to do mystery errands and odd jobs at weird times, returning in different clothes and seemingly a lot more tired than when she left, shutting down any questions you had with a kiss and a swift change of topic.

at first you thought it could be anxiety and this was her way of coping, your girlfriend had previously suffered with it quite badly leading up to selection for the euros, panicking her hamstring would play up again or tweak and leave her out of the squad.

it had meant she'd trained harder, done extra drills, asked for more one on ones with the physio and the trainers.

only you knew in your gut this time that just wasn't the case.

you'd like to think the two of you had healthy communication down to a tee, rarely arguing or getting into rows that weren't the cause of playful banter.

on the rare occasions you did seriously disagree it was seldom that any sort of yelling was involved, you both going out of your way to listen to the other and do your best to try and meet them halfway at least if unable to see eye to eye.

your head snapped up as you heard the jingle of her keys in the door, sat curled up on the lounge with a book in your lap. you frowned when she didn't even call out that she was home like she normally would, only slipping off her trainers and closing the door after her.

"hi love." she greeted you with a tired smile, making no move toward you and instead heading upstairs toward your bedroom with her bag slung over her shoulder.

you sat for a second, internally debating if you followed her or not, eventually deciding you would as you marked your page in your book and placed it down on the coffee table. you jogged upstairs and found the blonde in your shared bedroom, riffling through her kit bag.

"what's a girl gotta do for a kiss hello?" you started lightly, poking at your girlfriend who turned toward you. "sorry, hi." alessia simply pecked your lips before turning back to her kit bag, separating the clean clothes from the dirty and you frowned at the lackluster show of affection.

"you alright?" you asked quietly, moving to place your hand on top of hers and giving her a look of concern as she glanced to you. "i'm fine, just exhausted." she answered shortly, pulling her hand away and bundling her dirty clothes up in her arms, heading toward the laundry.

"did training run late? i know the derbys this weekend and they can sometimes push you harder leading up to it." you followed, pushing yourself up to sit on top of the dryer as the taller girl began to put on a load of washing.

"no, training was fine." she murmured quietly and you let an awkward silence fall between the two of you, waiting to see if she'd make any efforts to further the conversation.

"did you do something afterwards then?" you pressed, not missing the way the girl tensed up at the question. "uh just got coffee with tooney, we caught up with jill at box2box." she answered, refusing to look up or meet your eye which sent further alarm bells ringing through your head that you tried to shut off.

"you should have told me babe i wasn't doing anything." you continued, nudging her with your foot and frowning as she pushed it away. "we don't have to do everything together, it's good to have separate friends and hobbies." the blonde replied somewhat bluntly, squatting down to fiddle with the settings of the washer.

"oh, yeah i guess you're right." you tried to mask the hurt in your voice at the comment which was incredibly out of character for the striker, the two of you normally going out of your way to do everything together, forever joking there wasn't something you couldn't turn into a two person job.

"i'll go start dinner then." you stated quietly, trying to hide the red flush of embarrassment that sat on your cheeks from the thought that your girlfriend might think you were clingy. trying to silence the doubts and insecurities which flew through your head at just a simple comment.

though glancing upward and seeing the obvious discomfort on your face guilt flooded your girlfriends features and she quickly straightened, moving to stand in between your legs, stopping you from getting down from where you sat atop the dryer.

"hey that was really rude of me to say baby i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it like that i promise, i love spending time with you." she cupped your face, pressing a much more sincere kiss to your lips and mumbling a soft i love you against them.

"its okay, you're not wrong. it isn't unhealthy to do some stuff separately." you forced a smile, still feeling a little uneasy at this piling on top of your previous worries about her frequented disappearances.

"i really am sorry gorgeous, i'm just tired and didn't think before i spoke. i missed you." she pulled you into a tight hug, the taller girl resting her chin on your shoulder and gently moving your arms to wrap around her. "i missed you too." you replied softly, sighing into her shoulder before the two of you broke apart.

"less, you'd tell me if anything was up with us right?" you asked hesitantly, the blondes eyebrows knitted into a frown as you did, both from the use of her common nickname which you rarely resorted to, much preferring more tender and sweet terms like baby or angel, and from the content of the actual question.

"of course i would baby. why?" alessia asked in return, worry seeping quickly into her bones as you shook your head. "nothing, it's silly. i'll go start dinner!" you forced another smile and tried to get down but the striker stopped you.

"hey, where's this coming from? talk to me." the blonde encouraged softly, grabbing your hands in hers and running her thumbs tenderly over your knuckles. "just drop it less, like i said it's silly, nothing even." you assured but it was to no avail as her blue eyes pierced into yours, waiting for you to explain.

"it really is nothing baby, you just didn't tell me you had plans with ella so i didn't know where you were after training and you didn't answer your phone and i just got a little worried." you spoke quickly in explanation, fiddling with one of your girlfriends rings as her hands still remained connected with yours.

"oh love, i thought i told you this morning i'd be back late. i'm sorry for worrying you, and i'm sorry i didn't include you in the plan in the first place." your blonde lover apologized sincerely and you nodded in acceptance toward her words.

"if it makes you feel any better jill and ella pretty much spent the whole time teasing me about how in love with you i am, apparently i talk too much about you at training!" the blonde rolled her eyes playfully before peppering all over your face with kisses, grinning as you finally laughed and sent her a proper smile, kicking her away.

"come on, i don't think i can be bothered to cook and clean honestly. get a chinese, cuddles and a movie?" your girlfriend asked hopefully and you eagerly agreed, squealing as she picked you up off the dryer, hands sitting securely under your thighs as she walked the two of you downstairs, seemingly much more herself than before.

but despite the reassurance you still couldn't shake the small voice of doubt sat firmly in the back of your mind.

~

it wasn't till days later, match day to be exact, did those voices get louder.

"oi oi if it isn't the future mrs russo!" you heard a familiar voice tease as you stood waiting for your girlfriend to change and come and meet you, leaning against the door of her car. "hello mrs bunney!" you teased back with a grin, the brunette gasping and smacking your shoulder as she joined you.

"he's gonna be the future mr toone actually thank you, if he's so lucky!" ella flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically making you laugh. "when do you propose then? should we go ring shopping?" you mocked, the girl dropping her bag to the ground and playfully shoving you, the two of you catching up for awhile.

"so i heard you and less caught up with dear jill scott the other day, surprised i didn't see her here flying the man city flag high and yelling insults. how is she?" you made the mistake of asking, ellas face scrunching in confusion at your words.

"eh? when?" ella asked with a frown and now you were the one to look confused. "wednesday after training. less said she was late home cause the two of you got coffee and caught up with jill?" you questioned, your heart leaping into your throat as ella shook her head.

"nah man wednesdays date night for me and bunny." ella explained and suddenly it was as if your world came crashing down, the repeated excuses of going for a run with ella or a coffee with ella or a kick around with ella on wednesdays flowing through your head.

"hey, you alright?" ella asked softly, grabbing your arms as you locked eyes with her, nodding as you spotted alessia making her way toward the two of you. "yeah fine, maybe she just got mixed up." you forced a smile as ella nodded slowly, alessia arriving and throwing her arms over both your shoulders.

"ah my favourite girl, and you're here too babe." the blonde teased, the jab which normally would only be met with a playful roll of your eyes and a ribbing hit back toward her from you. though this time you shoved her arm off, quickly moving around to the passenger side of the car and slipping inside.

alessia frowned at your moody response and looked to ella with a raised eyebrow who shook her head, mumbling she needed to go and legging it away toward her own car. "what was that?" your girlfriend asked as soon as she closed her door, eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"you lied." was all you responded sharply, only confusing the blonde across from you who awaited a further explanation, which didn't arrive. "when?" she questioned again, turning her body in her seat to face you more, keys laying dormant in her lap as the carpark cleared, her white mercedes now one of the only vehicles left in the lot.

"you told me you were home late from training because you got coffee with ella, you didn't." you again responded quickly and bluntly, not missing the guilt which flickered across your girlfriends face as you did.

"baby-" "don't." you warned her seriously, now turning to face the blonde properly as you readied yourself, more upset with her than you could ever remember being.

she'd never lied to you before, and you hated lies.

"you spun me some lovely story about seeing jill and being teased for how much you love me and how much you gush over me at training. all bullshit! why? where were you really?" you asked seriously, doing your best not to raise your voice despite your growing frustrations.

"my love-" "don't alessia. where were you?" the blonde winced at the use of her name, biting her tongue as not to beg you call her anything but that. "it doesn't matter, i shouldn't have lied."

"no you shouldn't have! and it does matter, it matters to me. you know i hate lying and if it doesn't matter to you then it can't be that big. so tell me, where were you?" you asked firmly, the blonde only sighing and refusing to meet your eyes, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

"well? where were you?" you questioned again, a little louder this time and only met with silence, a pained look on your girlfriends face causing your stomach to drop.

"alessia are you cheating on me?" you eventually whispered out, the anger seeping from your body replaced with a crippling worry as you finally voiced the insecurities which had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.

"am i what? baby no, never. i promise!!" the taller girls head snapped immediately toward you and she scrambled to grab your hands which you promptly tugged away, tucking them in your own lap.

"why would you say that? why would you even think that?" alessia whispered in disbelief, the shock not having cleared from her face.

"well lately you seem to be coming and going a lot and without much explanation why, and always at weird times. you come back sweaty and in different clothes, and i know ella see's joe on a wednesday so all those times you used her as a scapegoat when it was that day, were obviously more lies." you explained quietly, looking out the window instead of at her, unable to stand the look of hurt visibly evident on the taller girls face.

"i can explain all of that, but i promise on everything i am not cheating on you. i love you so much that it hurts and i would never ever take that for granted, you're the best thing in my life." alessia rambled, reaching out again for your hand as you only shrunk away from her and the blonde deflated.

"well go on then." "what?" "you said you can explain all of that, explain then." "can we just drop it? but i promise its not cheating."

"just drop it?" your head snapped toward your girlfriend who paled at her poor choice of words which had clearly upset you further. "you don't get to lie and make me empty promises and then not explain yourself alessia." you warned, trying to open her door as the girl quickly locked them.

"let me out." "no." "explain then!" "no." "alessia you better let me out of this car or i swear to god-" "okay fine! just stop calling me alessia." "explain then...alessia."

"you have to promise you won't laugh." your girlfriend warned seriously and the anger present in your features melted at her choice of words, replaced instead with confusion.

"promise!" alessia stated firmly again, holding up her pinky as you gave her a look of disbelief. "baby! promise me." alessia warned and you rolled your eyes but linked your pinkies none the less and mumbled you promised.

"oh god." alessia sunk down into her seat, dragging her hands down her face with a troubled sigh. "i've been taking dance classes." she mumbled into her hands as she buried her face in them and you frowned, assuming you'd heard her incorrectly.

"pardon?" "i've been taking dance classes." "dance classes?"

"yes! in secret, every wednesday at five thirty. but i'm so bad at it that i've been getting some extra help from the teacher when he's free. who is a flamboyantly gay man by the way!" she was quick to add in, aware of how this could come across.

"you've been taking....dance classes." "yes." "why?" "well i read an article that said it helps athletes with their performance, helps them loosen up their bodies as well as shape and tone, and with the world cup incoming i have to be at my best." "what sort of dance helps with football?" "...street dance."

"like...hip hop? popping and locking and all that?" you bit down on your bottom lip to stop the grin which so badly wanted to take over your face as the blonde nodded.

"yeah. but don't laugh! you promised." alessia warned seriously, though biting the inside of her cheek to stop her own smile from spreading.

"so instead of just telling me about this, you kept it hidden and we had to have our first proper row and i had to think you were cheating on me to finally find out." you sighed as alessias face turned guilty once again and she slowly nodded.

"oh less." you shook your head in slight amusement, the blonde apologizing over and over as she grabbed your hands, sighing in relief when you finally let her take them.

"i guess taking street dance classes is probably more embarrassing than cheating anyway." you commented casually, shock and offence flashing across the older girls face as you eventually gave in, letting laughter wrack at your body.

"you promised you wouldn't laugh!" alessia whined with a pout, though seeing the clear humor in the situation she eventually joined in, the car filled with the symphony of your laughter, both of you clutching at your stomachs and wiping tears from your eyes.

"lessi baby you are such a dope."

~

you eventually filled ella in on what happened, the brunette insisting that you come clean about what happened with the coffee shop lie, alessia was unimpressed but understood she was in the wrong.

though that didn't stop her from refusing to let either one of you go to class with her, or reveal anything else about them, changing the subject anytime it came up or distracting you with a cheeky hickey or her tongue down your throat anytime you pressed the issue.

which is how you'd ended up here, it was a chilly wednesday afternoon and you were crammed into ellas car with the seats leant all the way back, the two of you peering at your girlfriend as she parked, locking her car and heading into the dance studio.

"tooney i don't know about this! it feels wrong." you stressed, fiddling with the strings of your hoodie as the head of blonde hair disapeared inside and ella commanded you both sit up and get out of the car.

"oh don't go mushy and moral on me now man, come on!" ella shot out of the car and you groaned quietly but followed none the less, the two of you hurrying across the car park toward the studio, crouching down by the window as the room inside pulsed from the bass of the music blasting out of it.

"okay on three we look, but we have to be subtle. she can't know we were here!" ella commanded and you nodded firmly, the girl counting down on her fingers before the two of you popped your heads up, peering over the edge of the window.

you both exchanged a look of shock watching alessia dance along to the beat with the class.

well...try to dance.

the poor girl flung her long limbs around and did her best not to fall at the eratic movement, rolling her body and popping her hips terribly out of beat as she tried to keep up with the rest of the class.

as the blonde tripped over herself and went tumbling to the floor tooney let out a sudden loud boom of laughter, your face paling as she smacked her hand over her mouth and the two of you ducked down.

though not before the older blonde had spotted the two of you, hurrying to her feet and mumbling an apology as the class resumed and she burst out of the studio doors, looking around before her eyes locked in on the two of you and narrowed.

"shit we made it angry. go!" ella grabbed you as the two of you jumped to your feet and sprinted away, alessia charging after you with a yell, her long legs meaning she came closer and closer as you and ella neared her car at the other end of the lot.

"tooney save yourself man!" you yelled out dramatically as your girlfriend caught you, tanned arms wrapping you around you and trapping you in their strong hold.

"i'll never forget your sacrifice!" the brunette saluted and wiped away fake tears, diving into her car and peeling out of the lot, yelling out she'd see alessia at training tomorrow before she zoomed away.

"hello footloose." you teased, tilting your head back to look up at your girlfriend who glowered down at you with a glare. "i hope that was worth it, because now i am going to kill you." you laughed as the taller girl dragged you with her toward her car, already deciding she wasn't going back to class today.

"tooney will make sure the police find out who did it." "my best friend? i'm sure i can sway her to take my side as an alibi." "okay ouch." "plus, no body no crime. i'm gonna drown you in the river babygirl."

~

"okay my love lets just start off slow. finding the beat and following the rhythm." you instructed softly, you and alessia stood facing one another in the living room, having moved some furniture around so the space was more clear.

with much persistence you'd managed to convince her to let you help her with her dancing, the poor girls private lessons only furthering her embarrassment as they did very little to help her keep up in class.

so once she'd told you she was going to quit you took matters into your own hands to stop that happening, and here you were.

clicking play on the music you started to move your body from side to side with the beat, clicking along as you did so, alessia watching you intently before you encouraged her to join in.

"see? just relax baby, stop thinking about it so hard and just....move."

it was around two hours later but you'd already made progress, you stood up on the lounge clapping along to the beat as your girlfriend rolled her body along and started to finally get a hold over the routine.

"yes! see you're doing it!" you cheered her on excitedly as she finally made it all the way through without tripping over. "okay now freestyle, remember what i said no thinking, just move." you ordered as the song changed and you continued to clap along to the beat.

"go lessi, go lessi, go lessi, go lessi." you chanted over and over as your girlfriend danced around the room, spurred on by your encouragement.

"baby you did it!" you yelled happily as the song ended and you launched yourself at her from the lounge, the taller girl catching you in her arms as you pressed your lips to hers, her hands squeezing your thighs as your legs wrapped around her.

"hey where are you going? we're not done yet you only did the routine all the way through once!" you laughed and pulled away as she began to walk the two of you towards the stairs.

"well tesoro i think this has been so successful that we need to continue this little private lesson in the bedroom."