#(Hoping This Lasts But I'm Not Counting On It)

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hey, hehe. Flipped the coin to decide a character and it’s Ari, with bite me, please?🥺🥺

bite me, baby

pairing: ceo!ari levinson x female reader

summary: when your nightmare of a boss, the ceo of the company, insults your valentine's day plans, you're so fed up that you quit. and he has a reaction that you did not anticipate even a little bit.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, pool sex, biting/marking, edging via sensual massage (ari puts sunscreen on reader—never forget your sunscreen, friends!!), prone bone, some brattiness, light bd/sm, light power play dynamics, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, references to marathon sex, reader has a cat (idk if this needs to be a warning but just fyi!), enemies to lovers with a happy ending

word count: 6.0k

a/n: i love a coin flip because i hate making decisions 🤭 i'm so glad it landed on ari because he, and the "bite me" prompt, inspired this fun and dirty idea that i'm so so so happy with!! (i also think i managed to throw in some of the other stuff you requested because it ended up giving me a lot of inspiration.) thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

That was it. You had had enough of Ari Levinson. 

In fact, after months of working for the CEO, you’d had more than enough of the infuriatingly arrogant, wildly inconsiderate, exasperatingly entitled and frustratingly handsome man. 

Wait, no, forget that last one. Ari was the worst man you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty of awful men in your line of work as an executive assistant to high-ranking executives—so he certainly was not also the most attractive man you’d ever met. Absolutely not. 

You’d worked for Ari Levinson for a little less than a year, and even though you were one of the best damn EAs in all of New York City, he’d already driven you to fantasizing about quitting multiple times a day. It wasn’t a good sign that you also liked to imagine kicking him in the shin before storming out in all your righteous glory.

The problem wasn’t that Ari Levinson was a demanding and exacting boss. He was a CEO, after all, and most executives held their employees to incredibly high standards. No, the real problem was that Ari was prone to seemingly impulsive whims, which always made your already difficult job nearly impossible.

More times than you could count, you’d had to reschedule meetings with titans of the industry and heads of state, all because Ari had forgotten to tell you he’d gone to play pickleball. Or you’d had to completely rebook a board meeting because Ari had decided to take a spontaneous trip to Costa Rica or the Seychelles or some other warm and sunny place while winter ravaged the city.

The worst part about those trips in particular was that you were still expected to commute into the office. So while Ari was off enjoying a white sand beach and crystal blue ocean, soaking up the sun that would undoubtedly bring out the blond highlights in his perfectly shaggy brown hair and deepen his glorious golden tan, you would be bundled up in a ridiculous amount of layers and braving the subway in the city. 

When Ari was gone, you would spend most of your day sitting at your desk alone on the top floor the company’s building, twiddling your thumbs outside Ari’s empty office. Inevitably, your mind always strayed to Ari and began to wonder what he was doing at that very moment.

Since the CEO had you working 60-hour weeks, and you spent most of those hours by his side, you could very easily picture him standing on a beach. He’d be wearing a rakish smile on his bearded face, the clear blue of the ocean making the bright sapphire of his eyes pop while the shining sun would highlight the mischievous look that was, more often than not, sparkling in the depth of his gaze. 

You’d never seen Ari shirtless—only ever having seen him in the tailored suits he wore to the office—but you’d caught glimpses of dark hair on his chest on the late nights when he’d undone the top buttons of his shirt. You could just imagine how his broad shoulders would frame his barrel chest, dark hair dusting so much of his bare skin that would be on display, with a pair of shorts riding indecently low on his hips.

And if you let your mind wander further down that path, you began to wonder if Ari ever swam naked in the shimmering waters of the tropics. You wondered if he floated on his back, basking in the sun with his entire body bare, looking even more like the golden god you thought he resembled…

With a forceful shake of your head, you made yourself stop thinking about Ari swimming naked, and refocused on the present moment. 

You stood in Ari’s office, your back straight as a knife’s edge while you typed notes furiously into your phone about everything you’d have to reschedule to accommodate the last-minute, week-long trip to Belize he’d informed you he was taking. 

You’d bitten back a sigh, like the polite little EA you prided yourself on being, and tried to get more details from him about his availability while he was away. But instead of answering your extremely relevant questions, Ari had changed the subject and asked about your Valentine’s Day plans.

The words had taken you by so much surprise, you’d had to pause your typing and blink a few times before your mind could process them. It wasn’t until Ari had voiced the question that you even realized the holiday had snuck up on you. 

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like you were seeing anyone, so you had no romantic partner to spend it with. As such, you’d given Ari a bland answer about catching up on the new season of The Traitors with a bottle of rosé and Freddie.

You didn’t expect Ari to remember that Freddie was your cat, and not a partner—though Freddie was, admittedly, your closest companion since you lived alone in a very nice one-bedroom apartment and had little time for other friends. 

You’d hoped Ari would’ve forgotten about Freddie and assumed you were just having a lowkey Valentine’s Day, thereby getting the hint to drop the subject. You’d wanted to refocus him on answering the questions you’d asked about his trip. 

But you’d had no such luck and, for the second time in five minutes, Ari had surprised you—and not in a good way. 

The CEO had scoffed at your Valentine’s Day plans, rolling his gorgeous blue eyes in a way that made you grind your molars in an effort not to snarl at him. He’d said you could find better company for the evening than a cheap bottle of wine, some trashy television and a flea-ridden furball. 

That last comment had been the final straw. The one that broke the proverbial camel’s back. 

You’d felt something inside you snap, and you realized you’d had enough of Ari Levinson. 

It was bad enough that Ari was the worst, most difficult and flighty boss you’d ever had, but you drew the line at anyone insulting Freddie. He was your precious little man, the one who greeted you every night with sweet chirps and warm affection when you got home to your otherwise empty apartment. 

You loved him more than anything else in the world, and had even used a good chunk of the generous salary you made working for Ari to splurge on a place with lots of natural light so Freddie could bask in the sun to his heart’s content. So you would absolutely not stand by and listen to Ari insult Freddie. 

“You know what, bite me, Levinson,” you hissed at the infuriatingly arrogant CEO, using a voice so filled with fury, you barely recognized it as your own. “I quit.”

You took a second to savor the slightly stunned look on Ari’s face—his normally sparkling blue eyes dulled with confusion and his perfectly plump lips, offset by his dark, well-groomed beard, parted in surprise like you’d slapped him—then you whirled around on your heel. 

You were determined to stalk out of the CEO’s office with your head held high, but Ari had other ideas.

Quick as lightning, Ari’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck. His grip was surprisingly gentle, even if it was still firm enough to spin you back around and reel you in until your body nearly collided with his broad chest. 

The astonished look on Ari’s face had already been replaced by a devastatingly arrogant grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the ocean, a wicked kind of mischief in their depths. He held you close, so close that you had to tip your head back to look into his eyes.

Your hands had come up to brace against Ari’s chest when he’d tugged you into the cage of his arms, and you could tell, even through the thick wool coat he wore over his suit, that he was sturdy beneath his clothes. 

The only thing stopping you from trying to push him away was the sneaking suspicion that he was strong enough not to allow you to put any space between your bodies if he didn’t want it. If you did try to fight and he didn’t give you an inch, you knew it would turn you on more than his manhandling already had, and you couldn’t deal with that just yet.

So instead of fighting him, you stood there, letting Ari tower over you while your hands rested uselessly against the lapels of his coat, your phone still clutched tightly in your fingers. You tried to keep a glare fixed on your face, showing him all of the ire you felt, and none of the desire that was scorching through your body as you inhaled his warm, spicy scent.

“Bad move, baby,” Ari rumbled, his mouth curving into a wicked smirk that had your betrayer of a heart beating mortifyingly hard in your chest, the warmth between your legs turning into a disloyal dampness. “Now there’s no employee code of conduct stopping me from doing this.”

You didn’t even have a hope of processing Ari’s words before his mouth crashed down on yours.

If you ever thought about it—which you did, an embarrassing amount, in fact, though you’d never in your life admit it to anyone (except maybe Freddie)—you would’ve expected Ari Levinson to be a selfish kisser. You’d expected him to totally lack finesse, to plunge his tongue into your mouth right away and take what he thought he was owed.

But Ari’s kiss wasn’t like that at all.

Sure, there was a barely leashed hunger in the way his mouth worked against yours, like he was holding onto his restraint by the tips of his fingers. But his lips were more coaxing than demanding, his tongue more teasing and playful than plundering as he licked along the seam of your mouth.

Before you knew what was happening, you were falling under the spell of Ari Levinson’s kiss. Your lips were parting of their own accord, and you were letting out a contented little sigh as your body melted into his arms. 

You could taste the smirk on his lips as he readjusted his grip, one of his arms banding around your lower back to hold you securely against his chest while his other hand shifted from the back of your neck to cup your face. He held you exactly where he wanted you while he tempted you into giving yourself completely to him.

Then, Ari deepened the kiss, and you were lost to him. 

He smelled like expensive cologne, rich and spicy, but he tasted like bitter coffee and dark chocolate, and the contrast was driving you wild. You wanted to climb the tall, sturdy CEO like he was a tree, but you settled for curling your fingers around the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer, sucking on the tongue he’d slipped into your mouth and reveling in his groan of pleasure.

You could already feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach, and you desperately wanted to feel his bulge move lower, shoving between your thighs while Ari spread your legs wide open—preferably with no layers of clothing between your bodies. You wanted him to sink into your wet heat and pound into you until you forgot everything except his name.

But you wouldn’t beg Ari Levinson to fuck you. You refused to stoop to that level. 

Instead, you pressed your body more firmly against his hardness, nipping at his plump lower lip and stirring a low growl in his chest. Then you sucked on his lip hard enough that his arms crushed you to his chest, his hips thrusting instinctively against your soft curves and making you smirk against his mouth.

“Come to Belize with me,” Ari murmured when he’d pulled his lips from yours to press kisses to your cheek and jaw and neck. He kissed you anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your mouth, which he devoured with a hunger that had a pulsing need throbbing between your thighs. “Come with me, baby, and we can continue this for the whole week.”

A scornful laugh, light and frothy as the waves crashing on the shore, bubbled from your lips and you tipped your head back. Ari took the movement as permission to brush even more kisses to the underside of your jaw, a shiver racing down your spine when the softness of his mouth contrasted with the rasp of his beard.

But, though a part of you wanted to get even more lost in Ari Levinson and take him up on his request, you couldn’t forget everything he’d done and said. You certainly wouldn’t forget the slight against Freddie.

“Why on earth would I go anywhere with you?” you asked, your voice so breathy, it almost sounded like you were flirting with the arrogant CEO instead of scoffing at his offer. “I just quit, remember?”

“I remember,” Ari muttered into the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw. He kissed his way back to your mouth and licked inside, making you melt even further in his arms. 

By that point, your legs were so weak, you were certain Ari’s strong arms were the only thing holding you up. But if he’d been trying to persuade you with pure lust into relenting and giving in to his invitation, he must’ve realized quickly it would take more to sweep you off your feet.

“Let me put it this way—come to Belize with me and I’ll tell HR I fired you so you get your full severance package,” he rumbled in your ear, nipping at the lobe and dragging a reluctant gasp from your lips. “Otherwise you get nothing.”

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your rational mind, you knew you should bristle at Ari’s threat. After all, he was toying with your financial future like it was nothing but a tool in his negotiation arsenal to get what he wanted. 

Except…you had been the one to quit without thinking about what it meant for your ability to pay rent and keep a roof over Freddie’s head. Ari wasn’t threatening to take away your severance, you’d thrown that away all on your own. Instead, he was offering to give it to you in exchange for a week-long vacation to one of the most beautiful places in the world. 

Later, you could chalk up your questionable decision-making to the drugging effect Ari’s mouth had on your body and mind, but in the moment, you were hard-pressed to remember why you shouldn’t go with him to Belize. Especially when your body seemed unwilling to do anything except press further into him, begging him without words for more.

You realized belatedly that you’d already made up your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the exasperating CEO just yet. So you slid a hand from the lapel of Ari’s jacket into his soft, brown hair, your fingers curling selfishly in the strands while you pulled his mouth back to yours. You shared a slow, decadent kiss that almost made you forget the conversation you’d been having.

“They’ll believe that?” you asked on a gasp, breaking away from Ari’s devastatingly perfect mouth to suck in the air your lungs were begging for. 

You pulled back enough to look up into Ari’s handsome face, finding him smirking knowingly down at you, and you realized he knew you’d already decided to go with him. You were prepared to seethe in fury and snap at him, but something in his expression made you pause—there was a hint of affection in his crystal blue eyes that you’d never seen before, and it rendered you speechless.

“Baby, I sign their paychecks,” Ari said, stroking a finger tenderly down your cheek, his words reminding you of the conversation you were still in the middle of. “They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”

A derisive scoff burst from your lips as you rolled your eyes at the arrogance of Ari’s statement, but you held your tongue. You’d known the man long enough that there was no point in arguing with him, so you changed the subject to something that mattered more to you anyway.

“I’m still furious with you for what you said about my Valentine’s Day plans—and Freddie,” you said, giving Ari your best, most withering glare.

Unfortunately, you suspected it wasn’t all that scary, at least not to the CEO who still held you in his arms, because Ari just chuckled and ducked down to press a kiss to your lips. His laughter flickered teasingly into your mouth, making the warmth of desire bloom even more hotly in your body.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Ari vowed before kissing you again, though it didn’t last long as his mouth tipped up into a smirk. “You’re going to enjoy Belize, baby.”

The sun that shone on Belize was better than the sun above New York City, you were convinced of it. If anyone tried to tell you that was simply because Belize was closer to the equator and it was February, you wouldn’t hear it. The sun was better in Belize.

It fell across your bare shoulders like the softest and comfiest of blankets, warming you down to the bones that you would’ve sworn had been permanently frozen by the city’s frigid winter. But even with the sun beating down on your body, you never got overheated thanks to the gentle breeze coming in off the water of the near-distant ocean, caressing your skin like a lover. 

For the millionth time since you’d arrived in Belize, you let out a sigh of contentment and reveled in the bright sunshine and the smell of salt on the air. The lapping of the waves was a constant soundtrack, lulling you into a state of near-sleep as you lay out on the deck of the private vacation home your former boss had booked for the week.

And, thanks to the privacy afforded by the high walls on either side of the pool and deck, which overlooked a strip of beach reserved entirely for you and the CEO, you were basking in the sun completely naked. Your body was stretched out on the soft cushion of a sun lounger, laying on your stomach with your arms folded beneath your chin. 

The only thing you wore was a pair pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, casting the world in shades of bubblegum and taffy while you watched the ocean. It felt deliciously wicked to be laying outside wearing nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you reveled in the feeling of the sun warming your skin—all of your skin. 

The sound of the door to the deck opening and closing pulled you from your reverie, though you didn’t turn to see who it was. There was only one person it could be—Ari Levinson. 

“The beast’s been fed,” Ari said, no small amount of fondness in his tone. His heavy footsteps padded in your direction across the wooden deck, coming to a stop somewhere near the foot of your lounger. 

It surprised no one more than you to learn that Ari’s invitation to go to Belize for the week had included Freddie. The CEO had even accompanied you to your apartment, where he’d helped herd Freddie into his carrier before taking both of you to the airport where he kept his private jet. 

Freddie had been wary of the large intruder in your home, and was taking some time to warm up to Ari. In an effort to endear himself to your precious furball, Ari had insisted on being the one to feed him, which you’d only allowed once your former boss admitted he planned on keeping you in his life long after the trip to Belize ended—and was willing to do anything to make that happen. 

It turned out, Freddie was just as much of a traitor as your heart, because he’d warmed up to Ari just as fast as your the betrayer in your chest had, abandoning their initial hatred of the CEO for something much warmer and more affectionate. 

“I gave him some of that wet food he likes,” Ari went on, finally dragging your attention away from the ocean so you could look up at the man who was quickly becoming your second favorite person in the world—after Freddie, of course. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Ari, standing on the deck with his hands propped on his hips, his face tipped up toward the sun and his eyes shaded in dark glasses—all while entirely naked. 

There was so much golden, tanned skin on display, you didn’t know where to look—at the dark hair blanketing his barrel chest, at the gentle taper of his waist and the hair trailing down from his navel, or at the thick cock hanging between his even thicker thighs. 

The two of you had barely made it into the vacation home in Belize and gotten Freddie settled before Ari had been pushing inside your entirely too willing pussy, finally finishing what you’d begun in the CEO’s office in New York. Since then, neither of you had been able to keep your hands to yourselves for longer than a few hours, and you’d learned, intimately, how it felt to have Ari’s cock buried in each one of your holes.

You’d also confessed to Ari, early on in the week, that you’d wondered whether he spent his vacations swimming naked in the ocean. In response, he’d pulled you into the ocean wearing not a stitch of clothing between the two of you; ever since, he’d taken to walking around naked all the time, so you’d done the same. 

Considering all the fucking you were doing, it was way more convenient anyway. 

“I think it’s about time you put on more sunscreen, isn’t it, baby?” Ari asked, dragging your focus back to the moment.  

His tone had dropped a little lower in that way that made your belly swoop and dampness begin to gather between your thighs. Your body warmed as arousal settled heavily in your center, your legs falling open just a tiny bit, as if the infuriating CEO had trained you to react instinctively to the barest hint of desire in his tone after just a few days.

Still, though your body might betray what you desperately wanted from Ari, you weren’t going to make it so easy for him. 

You tipped your head up toward him, finding he’d pulled off his sunglasses and dropped them on the lounger beside yours, leaving him able to pin you with a scorchingly heated look. You simply raised a brow at him.

“If you think so, you can go ahead and apply it for me,” you said primly, tossing your head and turning back to look out at the ocean. 

A smirk quirked the corners of your lips as you heard Ari chuckle behind you, and you could easily picture him picking up the bottle of sunscreen from the deck while he stepped closer to you. 

A moment later, you felt the slight shift of movement when Ari threw his leg over your lounger. Then he settled down on the cushion, planting his knees on either side of your hips. You took off your sunglasses and set them on the deck, pretending not to care about what Ari was doing.

But every spot where his bare skin touched yours tingled with awareness, excitement bubbling in your belly and mixing with your desire into the perfect kind of anticipation that had you squeezing your thighs together against the ache building in your core. 

Ari was quiet while he squeezed the sunscreen onto his hands and began massaging it into your shoulders, his strong fingers working methodically at the knots in your muscles—knots he’d created while he’d still been your boss—until they were entirely loose and unraveled. 

Then his hands were moving lower, his fingers brushing along the soft sides of your tits in such a teasing torture that you had to force yourself not to squirm beneath him. You were trying your hardest to keep up the appearance that you were unaffected by Ari’s touch, but the longer he deftly worked your body, the more effort it took to bite back your moans.

However, all hope of hiding your reactions from the arrogant CEO fled when he got to your ass. His big hands rubbed and kneaded the soft flesh in such a way that Ari kept spreading your pussy lips apart, the quiet sounds of your own wetness reaching your ears even over the near-distant hum of the ocean. 

Ari lingered over your ass and hips and thighs, groping your body shamelessly under the guise of working sunscreen into your skin, even as both of you knew exactly what he was doing. He worked you up until you were squirming beneath him, biting back little whimpers of desire, and then he stopped and you nearly growled in frustration.

Picking up the bottle of sunscreen, Ari laughed softly while he squeezed more into his hands, then made quick work of smoothing it down the rest of your legs, making sure you were entirely covered before resuming his previous position. 

His hands groped your ass again and his hard cock bobbed against the backs your thighs, but neither of you moved to take things further for a long moment. You simply enjoyed the feeling of being together, a sense of peace like none you’d ever known washing over you.

“How many times d’you think I’ve made you cum so far this week?” Ari asked, his tone light with an undercurrent of huskiness betraying his desire. 

The question broke whatever spell Ari had put on you and you stretched languidly beneath him, reaching your fingers out toward the ocean and pointing your toes while you tested your muscles. Your body was loose and relaxed, but you were despairingly empty, so you pushed your hips up, brushing your ass teasingly against Ari’s hard length while you hummed in thought.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, grumbling only a little when Ari pushed your hips back down on the lounger. He rebuffed your wordless offer, pinning you down while his knees shifted higher up your body and his calves kept your thighs closed together. “A lot, I guess.”

“And how many more until you forgive me for being the worst boss ever?” he asked, a playful smile in the warmth of his tone. 

You may have called him that—more than once—when he was edging you earlier in the week. But he’d earned the insult, and more, frankly, for how much you’d put up with in your months of working for him. He truly had been the worst boss ever, and you never intended on rescinding your resignation since he deserved it. 

Thankfully, Ari seemed determined to make it up to you, just like he’d promised. Mostly through orgasms, but you weren’t going to complain. Not yet, anyway. (Besides, you’d already gotten him to promise to give you the most glowing letter of recommendation he could write, and help you secure a position with a much less demanding company.)

“At least a hundred,” you murmured in a breathy tone, your hips lifting hungrily into Ari’s palms when he kneaded your ass, his thumbs brushing temptingly close to your dripping slit. 

That time, he took you up the wordless invitation, the tip of his hard cock pressing into your tight hole, which was more than eager to take his thick length. Ari’s cock met with no resistance from your body as he slid inside, burying himself to the hilt with one relentless stroke.

You were plenty wet from the massage he’d given you, and your body had long since grown accustomed to the feel of his fat cock stretching your tight pussy. It had taken some time to work his full length inside you that first night, but your body had come to know him, and you stretched to fit him perfectly, his hardness nestled deep in your cunt with his tip pressed against your cervix. 

A pleasured groan slipped from Ari’s lips as he felt your pussy squeezing around him. He fell forward, covering your body with his broad form until he was pressed flush to your back, pinning you into the soft cushion of the lounger.

The movement shifted his stiff length in your dripping hole, and it felt like he was pushing impossibly deeper, which wrung a shrill desperate, keening sound from the depths of your lungs. 

Ari shushed you softly, his palms skimming from your shoulders down your arms until his fingers tangled with yours. He held your hands in each of his, keeping you grounded in the moment while undeniable euphoria filled your body and mind, blotting out everything except Ari and the pleasure he offered. 

“And how many more until you forgive me for the comment about the beast?” Ari asked, his voice gravelly with his own barely leashed desire. He turned his head slightly, brushing a kiss to the apple of your cheek like he couldn’t help himself, and waited for your answer. 

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts enough to respond, knowing he wasn’t going to move, to fuck you, until you’d answered his question.

“It’s gonna take five hundred more,” you huffed, trying for a pert tone and failing miserably. Your voice was little more than a breathy moan, but that didn’t stop you from curtly adding, “That was my son you insulted.”

“By the end of this trip, he’s going to be our son,” Ari growled in your ear, pulling his hips back and thrusting inside you again, harder and rougher than before. 

You moaned loudly at the delicious drag of his cock in your tight hole, fighting back the warmth that wanted to curl around your heart at the determination in Ari’s tone when he talked about making Freddie his son too.

Thankfully, the way Ari was rocking into you, fucking your prone body while you were pinned beneath him, easily distracted you from the fact that the infuriating CEO was stealing his way deeper into your heart with very little resistance since you just couldn’t seem to muster it. Not when he felt so fucking good and said so many sweet things.

“And if I have to make you cum one thousand times to make you forgive me, I’ll do it,” Ari went on, pounding into you harder, his hips smacking against your ass with every thrust, wringing mindless moans from your lips while he kept spilling filth in your ear. “I’ll fuck your sweet little cunt until she’s so sensitive and swollen, you’ll be begging me to stop—but I won’t. I’ll make you cum on my cock so many times you’ll be forgiving me over and over and over again.”

Ari punctuated each of his words with a ruthless thrust, the clapping of his skin against yours loud in the quiet and otherwise peaceful afternoon. It was all you could do to mutter, “Oh god,” and cling on to Ari’s hands, holding him tightly while you took every inch of his cock and every single one of his rough thrusts. 

“And then, when you’re addicted to my cock and you’ve finally forgiven me—really, truly forgiven me—I’ll put a pretty little ring on this finger,” Ari rumbled, squeezing your left ring finger between two of his own, so you couldn’t possibly misunderstand what he was saying. “And I’m going to make you my wife. How does that sound, baby?” 

A sob of overwhelming bliss wrenched free from your lips, your mouth too busy wailing your pleasure to form words to respond. 

But it didn’t matter that you couldn’t answer Ari’s question with words because you knew from the way he chuckled in your ear that he’d felt the way your pussy had clenched down on him when he’d said he was going to make you his wife. Your body had answered for you, and it had been much more honest than your mouth would’ve been.

Ari kept fucking you, perfectly hard and perfectly fast, and the pleasure swirling through your body was reaching a fever pitch. It was almost too much for you to bear, so you turned your head and buried your face against Ari’s thick bicep. Mindless moans spilled from your lips as your teeth pressed instinctively into the hard, flexing muscle.

“That’s it—bite me, baby,” Ari cooed in your ear while he shoved his other arm under your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the aching bundle of nerves in tight, ruthless circles. “Bite me while you’re cumming all over my fat cock like the good girl I know you are.” 

Ari’s words and his relentless determination to make you cum were your undoing. 

You came with a muffled scream, your teeth sinking so deep into Ari’s bicep, you knew you’d leave a mark behind. That thought only made you cum even harder, your body trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure crashing over you. 

Ari followed right after you, his hips rutting into you for a few more thrusts before he came with a grunt, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep in your pussy. The two of you writhed together, eking out every last shred of pleasure before eventually collapsing on the sun lounger with exhaustion.

Maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, Ari held you in the cradle of his arms, his cock staying wedged deep inside you so you kept him warm as he gradually softened. You dozed off in the comfort of Ari’s hold, feeling his heart beating against your spine and listening to his soft breaths mingling with the gentle lapping of the ocean.  

After a time, Ari roused you from sleep, murmuring in your ear that the two of you should take a quick dip in the pool before deciding what to order for dinner. The sun had fallen low in the sky, ducking behind the house so that the deck was cast in shade, but the air was still pleasantly warm. 

The cool water of the pool helped to wake you up, and there was a pleasurable burn in your muscles as you swam and splashed and fooled around with Ari. 

Before you dragged yourselves from the pool, he fucked you again, using the gentle weightlessness of the water to lift you up and down on his cock while your head lolled against his shoulder and you moaned your pleasure into his neck.

When the two of you finally stumbled back inside, smelling like chlorine and sunshine, Freddie hopped up from the patch of light he’d been laying in at the front of the house. He chirped happily, twisting around your ankles and waiting for a brief pet before he pranced over to Ari. 

Freddie rubbed his furry body against Ari’s calves, staring up at the man like he’d hung the stars and moon in the sky. Your cat’s welcome made the infuriatingly handsome CEO chuckle affectionately while he bent down to scuff the creature under the chin, murmuring soft praises to the beast. 

It was too much for your heart—too sweet and pure and perfect—and you fell in love with Ari Levinson in that exact moment, though it would be many more months before you confessed those feelings to the man himself. 

By the time you did, Ari would have whispered his love into every inch of your body. When the words finally fell from your lips, he would chuckle, having known it before you’d voiced it, because he knew your heart better than anyone else in the world. Even Freddie. 

That first Valentine’s Day with Ari was much better than watching trashy TV with a bottle of rosé. In fact, it was the best you’d ever had. That is, until the next year’s Valentine’s Day, when Ari whisked you and Freddie off to another tropical location, and fulfilled the promise he’d made about putting a ring on your finger.

The Valentine’s Day after that, Ari Levinson made you his wife. And the two of you lived happily ever after.

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building. 

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see. 

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music. 

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop. 

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me? 

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state. 

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent. 

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber. 

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison. 

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time. 

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer. 

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks. 

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to  unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running. 

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier. 

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short. 

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him. 

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me. 

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position. 

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited. 

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening. 

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him. 

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy. 

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose. 

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi. 

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I  weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake. 

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out. 

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him. 

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!” 

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower. 

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about. 

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response. 

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands. 

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking. 

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath. 

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short. 

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass. 

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove. 

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again. 

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently. 

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop. 

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear. 

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move.  Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips. 

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening. 

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him. 

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air. 

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to. 

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip. 

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin. 

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand. 

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all. 

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious. 

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be. 

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name. 

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many. 

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[dilf-docs]

My Baby's Fit Like A Daydream

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your relationship is finally out to the world. now, pedro and you will explore what it feels like to have your love out in the open.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, FLUFF, the empire of bad humor strikes again, hurt/comfort bc all roads lead back to angst, a brief mention of bodyshaming, this is lowkey pwp my bad, dirty talk, fingering, p. in v., bathroom sex ijbol, exhibition kink (they be fucking everywhere but in a bed), degradation kink (he calls her a slut twice), the one and only creampie (twice), so naturally: breeding kink, ALSO pls stop the husband!pedro reqs, i beg. a delulu girl can only take so much 💔

word count: 10,991 words

side note: not one but two requests to be fullfilled! this is as a sequel to call it what you want. also, spam time: i happen to write in wattpad as well, and i have a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) but it's on spanish tho. if u speak the language and would like to tune in, read it here AND spam again but speaking of the ptwt dynamic, why don't we become moots? check my (new) stan twitter account here (i had one in 2022 that i had since 2016 but entered a crisis and deleted it lol)

part: I/II

The news had spread like wildfire.

As soon as you hit the red carpet, hand on hand, rings finally on display―shining under the spotlight, your phone had been blowing up nonstop: every show, podcast, tabloid, news outlet and social media had been talking about it. California had turn into an easter egg playground; everyone was eager to know it all.

(They had found the church where you married, the dress boutique, jewelry shop where Pedro bought the rings―the employees ratted him out, even sharing pictures of the moment, your husband posing with them without knowing of the future treason. They too had found the place where the reception took place, and even the name of the priest who had married you, but he refused to give the hungry press any details. God Bless)

In short, it had been a hell of a week. You figured dissapearing for a while was for the best, but with some interviews still left, that option had been discarded. Still, doesn't mean you couldn't retreat for a couple of days to the tranquility of your home while it was time to show up again. Well, as peaceful as it could get, since reporters were camping near your house and roaming around Hollywood Hills like vultures; the neighbour's nagging was just another layer of problems in your shit cake.

"I'm sorry, Louis. Walks will be postponed for a while" you talk to your cat, but the lazy bastard just stretches and lays down again. "Yeah, I can see you're affected. Don't cry"

"It's not the cat's fault" Pedro emerges from behind, "don't take it out on him"

He takes a sit next to you, two mugs in hand. He gives you the one with a chocolate steam, a souvenir he bought when you visited your home country last summer. You wonder if that's a trip you'll ever be able to make again.

"I'm not. Just- It's horrible that I can't even go outside my own house and walk the same roads I've walked in four years because the press is hidden with cameras in, I don't know, bushes!" you exclaim, quiet rage carried within your words. "It's unfair, really. All I want is to walk my damn cat without a flash up my ass"

Pedro nestles his face in your neck, nose carressing the skin. Giggles leave your lips, the sensation ticklish.

"It'll pass. It always does" he says, voice assuring, probably because he's used to the violation of privacy, but you're not. Getting bigger, is this the price to pay for making a name for yourself and claiming out loud who you love?

"I hope so" you murmur above the quietness of your home, a sound as eerie as fake, devoid of it's tranquil nature as a world of invasion awaits outside.

"Do you trust me?" Pedro speaks, voice unwavering. He holds your gaze, steady brown challening your shaky orbs.

"I do" you speak up, yet you wish you could believe it. You believe in him, there's no question to that, but do you believe in yourself? That the love you'd put out to the world would be treated with the same care and respect you have treated it in secret? For a fleating moment, you miss the secrecy.

"Then trust me this will be over sooner than expected" he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, feeling remanents of chocolate he licks away, as you mockingly yell ¡Qué sucio! but it's devoid of malice. "In time, this will become another anecdote we'll share with our kids, and laugh with our grandkids when we get older"

You smile, feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. Oh, doesn't he turn you into a pathetic sappy wife?

"Well" you sniffle, giggling to push back the tears away. "About the old part..."

He playfully kicks your side. "Uno ya no puede ser romántico, que le salen con estas cosas. Your generation could use some respect, you know?" (one can't simply be romantic anymore)

Pedro gets up, picking the mug from your hands as both rings brush together, the gold shinning under the morning Californian sun.

"And your generation could take a joke" you quip, lips curled up like you hadn't in weeks.

"Very funny, y/n. Thought you loved me" but then he's pressing a kiss to your temple like kissing you once isn't enough, promising to return after washing down the mugs.

"I do!" you shout to his dissapearing broad frame as he enters the kitchen, and he playfully makes a dissmissing move with his palm.

The laughing dies when your phone chimes next to you.

You shouldn't really, but the curiosity that draws you in is as intense as a magnet. The phone burns on its position, screaming for you to open it, despite being told by your husband that the best was choice was to ignore it until the buzz had died down, but you're afraid the turmoil isn't nowhere to be finished. Comments can be mean, he'd said, they can hurt you. Pedro said he'd learn with time to ignore it, but he was experienced. You weren't, so naturally, as your husband and protector, he wanted to shield you from the pain.

Although, both of your fandoms had been pretty supportive of your relationship, some user even claiming to suspect it, making threads full of easter eggs and connections that validated the theory which was now a reality. I've connected the dots, followed by pictures of you sharing wardrobe, slips on interviews, similar backgrounds in your posts across social media, and of course, the two Gladiator Ii interviews. Many resorted to making edits or screaming over your pictures in the premiere, demanding for more content you had yet caved in to share (there was a gigantic carpet of evidence sitting heavy in your cloud).

So, in a way, this support made it hard for you to truly dimension the hate Pedro warned you about: all you saw was fans being happy and showering you with love, making paparazzi to be the only problem as for now.

That's it.

You cave in, turning the phone on as you bite your lip, searching first your Instagram: a bunch of new followers, many with variations of ispunk on their usernames, as well as a swarm of comments on your recent posts. There's a small voice in your head telling you to turn away, but your thumb moves without thinking, clicking on pictures of the red carpet―a carrousel of you and then a picture of you both at the end, one fans had been gushing about the last couple of days, rings on display, practically up their noses. You were smiling, and Pedro was looking at you fondly, his other hand holding Lux but his gaze never leaving yours; he was too perfect to be real―yours.

You unconsciously smile at the captured moment, love obvious on your faces, so you open the comments, thinking it would be the same support or love radiating of the comment.

But boy, weren't you wrong?

It was all the same, support lost between waves of hate. Variations of bodyshaming, age shaming and even gold digger claims were on full display across the comment section. "She's ugly" "In it for the money, am I right?" "I thought Pedro had better taste, lol" "She got the role in Gladiator II because of nepotism. Or cocksucking" and then a cruel answer that read "Right, threesome with Ridley. Ew, what a whore!"

Worst of it all, some even had Pedro profile pictures, or usernames and accounts dedicated to him.

Your heart was beating like crazy, chest heavy and hollow, face red with emotions you couldn't quite place (embarrasment? fear? rage? sadness?) as you kept searching across Twitter*, doing a quick skim of the trendings that included you. The same hate speech pattern was all over the timeline, some betting for divorce in a couple of years (even months!), while others took their time dissecting your looks and relationship. As if they knew. Long gone were the edits and harmless threads: the hate wave was here to stay. Some where even being a bit racist, the irony of it all, being Pedro himself was latino and didn't shy away from it, rather proud as he didn't miss an opportunity to shot out his dear Chile. Or any social issue, as a matter of fact, very vocal on his political beliefs.

This was fucking ridiculous, and if the cameras were an issue, this swarm of negativity is what really took a toll on you, the flashes as you went grocery shopping now barely a scratch. No, this was worst. All you wanted to do was cuddle in a blanket while wearing one of Pedro's shirts and dissappear. Too much noise. Too much hate. You can feel it creeping up your body, tainting your soft curves, wrinkles, acne scars and face. It's like rough hands, tugging harsh, ripping your vocals because you can't scream; no words to express this pain.

You knew one day it would come, but never imagined the hurt and to what extent people were capable of. Cruelty. Dissecting your life and body like it was a show for them to be entertained: your marriage was a circus and your body a joke.

It hurt their condescending dismiss of your love, questioning as if the gap were only numbers and not a pillar of your relationship that made you and Pedro closer, despite the bridge in age. You were reduced to a middle-age crisis, and he to a filthy man pinning for a younger girl. Your body was turn apart, despite no real flaws existing. Humans are meant to be so, not perfect, but real, and that was the problem: you had turn into an object―a target for their dards to pierce through.

Your body shakes violently with cries, deafening your ears that you don't hear when Pedro walks in.

"Why are you crying?" he rushes to your side, panic on his voice. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

You barely manage to shake your head, and then his eyes scan all over your features, until they land on the phone on your hands. The worry turns to anger as he asks:

"You looked at them, didn't you?"

He isn't yelling, but it would be better if he did. This contained fury, fading into dissapointment, as if you were a naive child scolded by their parents makes you feels small and stupid, as if you knew no better.

"I'm sorry-" you manage to choke out among tears, "I know you told me-"

"I told you" he interrupts, words laced with wrath, "so this wouldn't happen. See what happens?"

"Why are you talking to me like it's my fault?" you yell, and Pedro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I didn't ask to receive all this! Do I deserve the death threats, shame and hate?"

He walks past you, and it's like a slap to your face. Was he going to behave like this? Didn't it matter how you felt, or was it something childish that could be brush to the side like nothing? Insecurities you hadn't even think of come crashing down on you, doubts creeping up and attacking you from all sides. It's horrible. You try to hold onto the good memories, praying you don't loose him. You can't. You just can't.

"Answer!" you demand, tears spilling like a broke dam.

"I was just closing the windows. Or do you want to fuel the talk, huh? Give the hungry hoard more to bite?" Pedro then stands to hold your gaze, and you hate that you can't place his emotions. Anxiety corrodes your brain: was this really the beginning of the end?

"Do I?" you dare to speak up, and even if its loud, it comes out drowned, the exhaustion from the emotional turmoil taking its toll on you. "Do I deserve it?"

"No, you don't, carajo!" Pedro bursts. "You don't deserve any of that, which is why I didn't want you looking at those things!"

He sighs, realizing the anger is misdirected.

"I'm sorry"

Your broken wails are the only thing to be heard. He hates himself for being a part of it, even if not the biggest.

"No, I'm sorry for being so stupid" you sob. "I-I just wanted for people to be as happy for us as I am with you"

"Come here" but he's the one cutting the space to embrace you.

His scent calms a part of you, body still rocking with violent shakes.

"You're not stupid. Nor ugly, or any of those things people are calling you. No, mi amor. You're beautiful, smart and talent. They fail to realize I'm the lucky one. So please, don't be hard on yourself, yeah? I can't bear to see it. Less if I know it's not true. You didn't ask for it; you don't deserve all that bullshit"

He presses a kiss to your temple, arms that hug you tighter holding you close close up to the point his heartbeat melts within your own.

I won't let you go. You won't fall as long as I got you.

"We'll get through this, yeah? Think of the future, and what's to come. It's hard, that I know, but let us enjoy the moment. Life is too precious to waste it away" he brushes stray tears with his thumb, softly and full of love that words aren't enough to express. "I'm here" the out loud, "and I'm not going anywhere. That's a promise"

Later that day, Pedro posts a carrousel of unseens, even one of your wedding (a video of your first dance), telling people to leave you alone. That he loves you, and that no malicious news, fans or comments will ever change that―suck it energy laced within his rageful statement.

Safe to say, in the next weeks, hate is barely a small voice whispering in the back of your neck, one that hushes down with each kiss and/or words uttered by your one and only devoted husband.

mandoshoney: y/n protection squad pull up, we ride at dawn starlightt180: unhing3dprincess WHERE ARE U??? PTWT IS IN SHAMBLES AND NEEDS U MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAAA elysyannemimi: i feel like a kid scolded by their dad. pedro has achieved the ultimate daddy status bobgirlll: is no one going to talk about how rageful/protective pedro sounded in that story????? NEED MORE FERAL PEDRO RN GRRrrrr ps. photos so cute, wish that was me lol pyramiidsf: i hope y/n is okay, ppl can be so cruel sometimes but at least she's got pedro on her side <3 he's such a perfect man :,)

It had been days since your fight.

In an sweet attempt to cheer you up, Pedro had taken you out for dinner to a fancy restaurant you can't remember the name of. If they'll snap pictures of my wife without my permission, I might as well show you off. So, per his petition, you had wore a little black dress that hugged every curve of your body perfectly and pushed your tits to the top. Stunning, he had growled, and it had been hard to push him off as he devoured your mouth in your house's doorstep.

"Let's give them talk" you had agreed.

So now you sat at the restaurant, Pedro filling your cup of wine for the third time in a row, talking about all and nothing: about politics, the weather, your siblings, Louis the cat, upcoming gigs around your home you wanted to go to, how support had risen and the hate had dwindled, the numerous calls of job offers and interviews to keep on milking your relationship... life had never been more hectic.

"You know, maybe the dress was a bad idea" he takes a bite of his meat, tone nonchalant.

"Yeah?" you challenge, cheeks flushed with alcohol, "why's that? I thought I had to look good. What changed your mind?"

"Turns out" he looks at you, gaze piercing through your body, brown warm eyes darkening, "I figured something"

You know your husband. It's still fresh in your mind the first day you took a notice of it: jaw clenching, gaze fixated at nothing and white fists balled up on to the sides, arms swinging while fingers itched. A vein on his forehead would pop, and brows would melt together in a furrow. It happened when you got recognized by a fan, on your early days, and he had taken a picture of you, uploading it to social media. Dating Pedro had been going on for little to five months, and the way this guy hugged you from behind, hand resting above your ass, had made your then-boyfriend see red. His posture stiffened, demeanor changed and face adquired all the characteristics above. There was only one correct answer: Pedro was jealous, so fucking jealous.

So here he is now, jealous to the bone, alcohol increasing the rage.

"And that is?" you push his buttons, something you normally wouldn't do, but you're drunk and God, so sex-starved. His possesive side was always hot, yet now? It had a layer of allure it didn't have before, the idea of calming him down long lost.

"You know what it is" he answers, but you tilt your head to the side, acting confused. Pedro growls, clenching the glass a bit too tight; you fear it'll break.

"No, I don't" you serve more wine in your glass, savouring the liquid. Some spills into your mouth, and you lick it while not breaking eye contact. "Enlighten me"

"Turns out" the words come out strained, a whirlwind of emotions burning in the tip of his tongue, "that I wanted people to look at my wife, but I looked their looks and realized I don't like how they look at her"

He rambles the words out, speech pattern slurred and ideas clashing into one another, clearly drunk.

"I see" you draw out, demeanor calm, but your panties have started to get wet.

"No" he hits the table, making your eyes go wide and people turn to your table. You should be embarrased, but you're only aroused. "You don't see what I see. And I hate it, I fucking hate it" he seethes, words spit out over your unfinished meal.

"Dessert?" the waiter appears from seemingly nowhere, menu on hand.

Pedro doesn't even look when he answers, "Sure. Bring your best"

"The chef's suggestion is Soufflé, a classic dessert from his country"

"That'll do" Pedro looks at you, but his brain seems to be somewhere else. Like he's thinking. "How long will it take?"

The waiter ponders the answer, yet doesn't think any weird of it.

"About twenty to thirty minutes. Would that be alright? Or would you prefer to switch to one of our quick-fixes? They're as delicious as our fresh and-"

"No" your husband interrupts, eyes shinning with something akin to dangerous. "We'll take the soufflé. Just want my wife to eat the very best"

The waiter smiles. "Sure, will be back in a few. More wine?"

Pedro stops the action, removing the bottle's neck from pouring more red liquid in your glass.

"Won't be needed"

They excuse themselves, leaving both of you alone. The restaurant bubbles with chat and instrumental music from a band playing on a corner, but all you hear is his heavy breathing and your heart.

"I wanted more wine" you pout, not even knowing why you said it.

He smiles devilishly. "I'll give you something better than that"

How does it happen, you have no idea, but then Pedro gets up with a brash move, chair making a sound that draws attention. He smirks, his auburn reflecting on the candle glowing in the center with a light that's menacing.

"I'm going to the bathroom" an announcement that feels like a threat that runs through the newfound tension; it could be cut with even a butterknife.

You sit there in silence, too stunned to speak. Your phone chimes in what feels like an hour (it's been a few minutes, probably three). You open the notification, a single text from Pedro.

I'm waiting.

So this was his plan all along, huh? Maybe he's gotten bored of sex on a bed and room like normal couples, because ever since that time you sucked his dick in his trailer, Pedro has shown an appetite for public sex. Well, more like just shown but never done. Guess that changes as of tonight.

I'm coming.

Truth is, after the reveal and fight, you hadn't had sex since that time before the London premiere. Press tour hadn't finished, and the movie was still playing in theathers, but it feels much longer the time you had gone without having his dick rearranging your insides. That changes as of tonight.

You practically leap out of your sit, rushing to the restroom, which is too fancy for your liking. You're unsure how to proceed, and it should be because you realized how stupid and reckless this is, but it's more because you don't know which door Pedro is behind: men or women.

You knock softly on the ladies room first. "I'm here" you speak, voice small.

After a few seconds, a muffled voice from behind replies: "Me too"

You giggle as he pulls you inside, mouth devouring yours in a hot kiss.

"The lock!" you squeal, yet Pedro is busy buring his face between your breasts, pulling the dress down until he's nipping at the skin before licking the spot with his tongue. Your back is pressed against the tiled white wall, cold meeting your now heating skin.

"Mmm, missed this" he mumbles in a drunken state. "Needed my girls so bad"

His words elicit a moan out of you, a way to comunicate that your body too had been aching for this.

"Please, Pedro-" you whimper, trying to get rid of the pretty dress. He doesn't say it, but his movements command for power, big hands dragging your dress down until the black cloth falls to the floor in a sound filled with grace, it feels merciful.

"Black panties? But I thought I was a man with a plan" he groans, calloused digits ghosting over the wet patch in the middle. He smells your arousal off his fingers, and this is so nasty but you're so into it.

"Two can play" is all you answer, eager fingers unbuckling his belt as you unbutton the formal pants and pull them down to his knees, so with his underwear.

"Sure thing" he chuckles darkly. "Just look at you, baby. So loud, but you gotta be quiet. ¿Quieres que alguien entre y te vea así? Fucking slut, begging for my cock" (do you want someone to come in and see you like this?)

He's always been sweet-talking you through sex, and you know he doesn't mean it aside from being lewd words, but you also didn't know you could be aroused by it. Change is welcome, to say the least.

His hard dick is immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs, like he's got no time to loose, kissing you roughly like he hasn't eat and your mouth is his meal.

"Twenty minutes" he grumbles, groaning.

"Or thirty" you add, whining when his cock brushes dangerously close to your dripping folds.

"Can't believe you're this wet already" he chuckles, but it sounds more like a breathy sigh, lost in the inside of your mouth.

"I've been wet since before we left the house and you kissed me"

"And I kissed you" he adds. "No sé ni por qué putas te traje si sólo quería quedarme en casa y comerte" (i don't know why the fuck i took you out if all i wanted was to stay at home and eat you out)

You moan at his dirty mouth, clicking your tongue as a way to say so.

"You dirty old man-" it dies in your throat when he glides inside your folds with ease, a finger slipping in, then two, as he curls them. Your head rolls back, landing against the door with a hollow thud.

"Dirty? But you enjoy this, don't you?" his fingers buried up your hilt. Your eyelids flutter, whimpering drowned by your lips, bitten so deep you think you start to taste blood. "Bad news, mami. You're as dirty as me"

You choke in your words. "No-"

"No what?" Pedro mocks, sliding his digits out of you and shoving them inside his mouth, sucking on them while looking at you. You whine at the display and loss of them, knowing he's tauting you for fun. "Don't tell me you don't want someone to come in here and see you acting like a dirty slut? To see you almost coming here and now with just two of my fingers"

"Fine. What if I want to, huh? Just give me your damn cock already and quit teasing"

Words were lewd, but Pedro smiles with adoration.

"That's my girl"

His length springing free to slap against his now smooth stomach, your mouth drooling.

"Sit"

He glares back, "in the toilet?"

"Well, do you happen to see a couch or bed?" you quip. "That's right: you were the one who chose the bathroom, desperate old man. So needy, aren't you?"

You see your husband turning around, ashamed, and you laugh. "I didn't think it through" and you avoid to add a that's quite obvious snarky type of reply.

"Want me as much as I do?" Pedro doesn't protest anymore, grunting some spanish curses before sitting on the cold surface. "Good. Then comply"

You swing a leg over his lap, not afraid if the thing breaks, dragging your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, biting at your lower lip to hide a growl that seems to erupt from deep within his chest.

"Gonna ride you, baby. Is that okay?" you take the lead, and Pedro gets frustrated that you're taking up a plan that was originally his. Despite such, he just finds himself nodding wordlessly like a fool.

You line up, desperate to have him inside of you. But you go slowly down, taking his size, maybe because you're drunk or because you'd never fucked in a bathroom before. Because, really, how will you even try to explain your PR team a broken bathroom?

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push. His strong arm cages your waist, as he moans in your ear, bodies going up and down in sync. His slides are smooth across his length, helping you find your pace.

"Fuck" you whimper, legs starting to shake. "I think I-"

"I know" he interrupts you, a quick kiss to your earlobe. "It's okay; I've got you, linda"

He thrusts upwards, toilet creaking as Pedro keeps you in place.

You bury your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans, skin slapping against skin loudly, his movements becoming faster. The pressure keeps on adding, until the tightness on your walls is too much, and you're collapsing over his chest, folds spasming as he empties his load inside of you, seed deep in your walls, dripping down your legs.

"Oh, shit" you gasp, "Pedro!"

"Perdón!" he shouts, then covers his mouth. "Mierda, no quise ser tan ruidoso. Ay, carajo. Didn't want to spill all over you-" (sorry! didn't mean to be so loud. oh, fuck)

"There's a sink" you start, "and toilet paper. We'll manage"

"Right" he looks at his watch, "we got about ten minutes"

You smile, cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck. "If the chef took the whole thirty"

"There's only one way to find out" he gasps for air. "Pero, ¿no estás llena? Still up for dessert?" his big hand finds it's way to your tummy, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. It lingers, and when you look into his eyes, he averts his gaze, ashamed of whatever he thought. (but, aren't you full?)

"After this, I need some sugar to make it home" your eyelids drop. "I'm starving"

He presses a loud kiss to your head, "that's my girl"

"Yours" you pull back to rest your forehead against his. "Just yours"

He jolts forward, capturing your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it.

"Good. Now, I'll give my good girl what she deserves" he takes some toilet paper to clean his spilling load out of you, kisses running from your face to neck. Then, gently so, lets you dress in again, exiting the bathroom first to give you some cleaning up space. When you come back to your table, the Soufflé is there.

"Eat" he commands, voice thick and rough. You smirk, giving it a bite as you look into his eyes: hair disheveled, puffy lips and droopy eyes. The bite mark seems to shine, or maybe you need to lay down for a while. "Y no mires atrás, ¿sí? We got ourselves a crowd" (don't look back, yeah?)

That night, you upload a story with a picture of the dessert with a caption that reads: best meal I've ever had. The context is lost until news of your bathroom affairs hit headlines next morning, but you don't notice: your phone happens to be dead, and you're too busy getting railed in what could count as round two to charge it.

pompeiianbollockr: hello just woke up and saw the pictures WTF TMZ??? did they really do #that 😭 bring back public shaming unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they fucked in that fancy ass restroom ㅤㅤmostannoyingbillioner: unhing3dprincess QUEEN U ARE BACK 😭 BETTING UR GRANDMA AGAIN? OH IKTR WE WERE LOOSING THE ANCIENT TEXTS poppysplayground: ohhhhh they're so nasty (do u want a third) ㅤㅤann-gell: poppysplayground fr like INVITEN

The interview for Entertainment Weekly's behind the cover for Gladiator II was supposed to just include Paul and Pedro, but taking advantage of the free publicity and buzz your announcement made, they added you. Especially after the news about your restroom affair had hit, courtesy of TMZ; the rumor wasn't taken into account in the beginning, but now added gasoline to the gossip fire. Just what the movie needed: free promo.

You're sat in the middle of the two men, dressed in white as well, to match their attires with a flowy dress that loosely resembles that of Rome's. Then, Paul begins to speak.

"I saw the film for the first time when I was about 13 with my dad" he talks about the original movie.

"I saw it in the movie theater when it came out" you imagine a young Pedro lined up to see Russell Crowe's magnetic performance and let out a small smile. "I saw it twice, because of how emotional the movie was. Obviously it's incredibly visceral, and epic and the kind of movie you rarely get to see made, uh, these days"

You look at him, elbow resting on the arm chair as your body is all turned to his side. Truth is, you love listening to him, especially when he seems so invested, love for the subject rooted in each word.

Pedrito, you'd affectionally call. Ésto es una conversación, no un monólogo. And he'd blush embarrased, only for you to laugh it off, saying you would turn mute if that meant for him to continue speaking. (this is a conversation, not a monologue)

"It had an impact emotionally. I remember that, I guess, sadistically I was drawn to a second time go back again because, weirdly, it was very comforting. I remember it perfectly came out in year 2000. Right?" he asks, and Paul and you agree with a yeah. "I can remember what theater I was in and everything-"

"What theater was it?" Paul interrupts his passionate talking.

Pedro stops, "It, uh-" he rambles, before you all laugh.

"What about you, y/n? Were you even born?" Paul jokes, making you roll your eyes at his antics and deliberate desire to keep nagging you like some older annoying brother.

"I was like, born a year after you, Paul. But I didn't watch the movie until I was fifteen" you feel the gaze of both men fall upon you. "The first Ridley Scott movie I watched was Thelma and Louise, as you all know. Then my dad insisted I should watch it, and finally, at fifteen, when I had given up on my dreams to go on one last epic trip to the Grand Canyon, he played it. My eyes, they were, like, glued to the screen. I couldn't stop thinking about it for a while" you leave a small lingering touch on Pedro's arm, "just like he said: epic and emotional. Also, I had a huge fat crush in Joaquin Phoenix that lasted until I was twenty"

"That was like, seven years ago!" Pedro yells, making Paul snorts. "I feel deceived"

"Qué dramático. We're both married, you big baby!" you laugh, then make a joke before the next conversation starts: "You wouldn't think he plays an epic Roman General, would you?" (how dramatic)

They film some shots of you and the boys before moving to the next talk.

"I was doing a play in London at the time. I'd met with Doug and Lucy who are the producers of the film in LA, and then a zoom was set up and I spoke to Ridley for about 5 minutes about what Gladiator was going to be about. And then we spoke for the next 25 minutes about like, gaic football and dogs, and then I thought we'd do like camera tests and- but no, he just-" he shrugs. "I found out about two weeks later"

Now it's Pedro's turn.

"I knew that the project existed. I knew that Paul was doing it. I think it started with an actual like meeting with Ridley to go and sit down with him and I, whether or not the movie was going to happen for me or not, I was like I'm going to go meet Ridley Scott" he jokes, making you both chuckle. "It wasn't even about getting the job, it was like I'm going to go and sit down maybe five minutes, ten, twenty, as many minutes as I can"

"It was in LA" you speak up, "in his offices"

"Yeah, and thankfully he was willing to talk about all the things I wanted to know about, in terms of other movies, and that's what it really turned into"

"He's a wonderful Storyteller" Mescal compliments. "You could sit down with Ridley for-"

Pedro makes a joke, speaking over him. "Give me another one, give me another one-"

You still kind of hate the guy after his supposed comments on your husband's weight, but won't talk bad about a man who gave you work and your biggest role to the date yet, so you explain how it happened to you.

"I wasn't even planned to appear on the movie. As a matter of fact, my character was squeezed in last minute. Ridley is, just as they said, indeed, a storyteller" you smile. "The truth is, I worked with Cuba, his granddaughter, on a proyect together, a photography one. I was in London at the time, auditioning for a movie, when we met"

"London?" Paul asks.

"Yes" you laugh, ashamed. "I traveled to London with some of my savings, because you know what they say about not doing and then regretting. But I do regret it; I cried for my money to be back!"

"You didn't get the part" Pedro adds, barely containing a snicker.

"I didn't" you sigh, "Cuba saw me sitting alone on a café, eyes red with tears of failure and talked me into capturing such vulnerable moment. She didn't know me but made my day better, and she took some of the most beautiful pictures I've seen of myself. So, in a way, I won. I mean, she's the reason I got the role: my name came up on a phone call with Scott, as I had already made a name for myself, and showed him the pictures. He got in contact with my agent and I got the role after auditioning. Call that friendship nepotism"

"Didn't Pedro tell you about it? I find it funny that he was in the movie and didn't get you in" Paul comments, curiously.

"We were supposed to remain a secret, and the sudden connection when we had barely interacted according to the public, would've been weird. So no, Pedro rubbed his role on my face and then I came home with the new script as he received his. We both won our roles separately, and until we got it both, we realized just what it would mean"

"But now we're here" Pedro speaks fondly, taking your hand. "Rome conquers it all"

You can only hold his and stare back lovingly.

"Oh" the Irish man feigns disgust, "don't get all lovey dovey on me!"

The topic changes again, as Paul speaks.

"We meet early in the film, and this is again kind of Ridley's genius. He shoots it in a way that it feels plausible, but in like- the real action of that there's no way-"

They start talking ovwe each other excitedly about the process of filmaking, Pedro listing all the settings were the epic action takes place.

"We lock eyes" Pedro jests, "we lock eyes"

"All right" Paul plays along. "Three, two, one"

"i'm right here" you say, pushing your body to the front. "You got me third wheeling in my own marriage"

Paul laughs, breaking contact.

"Time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. You've made the rest of this press tour unbearable!" he protests, but his tone is devoid of complain.

"Marcus Acacius represents like-" Mescal then speaks about your husband's character, "he's a Roman general"

"No, he is the general of Rome" you correct, smirking.

"Be careful, princess. Don't let the emperor see you all over his General" the blue-eyed man next to you mocks, and you roll your eyes again.

"Will you ever let me live?"

Paul then talks about his character. "I'm like a lieutenant in the numidian Army. I kind of see Acacius as this, he- he represents everything that I hate about, uh, the Roman Empire"

"Well, the Roman Empire is expanding and expanding" Pedro takes the word, "and invading Numidia just to gain more and more power, and we realize that there really is kind of no ceiling to the lust of that power"

"And that's to do with the Emperors, right? Like, played by Joe and Fred who are wonderful" Paul adds, complimenting both actors in the process. "And let's not forget our Empress too"

You make a face at that, feeling in the need to defend your character.

"Empress Alba is tragedy. I think she embodies well the feelings of helpnessless all women felt during that time. She's an object, another shiny possesion subjected to her husband's amusement, so she drowns in all pleasure available to forget her existence. Lucius hates her because he sees all the filth of Rome in her, like, this whole debauchery and squandering while the people beg for scraps. But it's a pattern seen across history, isn't it?" you pause. "I think it's interesting to compare her to Lucilla, because she's loved by the people, seen as human- despite being noble. It's sad because it's until too late that Lucius realizes she's a victim of the system he hates"

Pedro smiles at your little intervention, loving the way you explain a character you'd play so graciously. One of your favorite movies is Marie Antoinette, by Sofia Coppola, so probably it felt personal to you in some level. God, hadn't you made him watch it at least ten times?

"It unravels through the film that I've kind of miscalculated who I think Acacius is, just as with Alba" Paul comments.

"His character misunderstands my character just like Paul misunderstands us" Pedro quips, making both of you laugh.

"Then it kind of culminates in a big fight that we have in the-"

"Doesn't it always?" you add. "Wouldn't be an epic without it"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Paul dares, jokingly.

"No we're not talking about it" he cuts him off.

"Who's the better fighter'" Paul asks after some silence. Pedro dares him with a go on.

"I would say I'm better the better share. What you think?"

"I would say Lucius is the better fighter"

"Lucius is the better fighter" Pedro repeats slowly, incredulous. "Do you want us to fight? Lucius is a better fighter than the general of Rome, who survived decades and conquered" Paul tries to defend himself but Pedro doesn't let him. "I fight four men before I get you, and I call it off!"

"Yeah, but I think if you hadn't called it off -"

"You don't think I would have do some sort of mature aged learning-"

They end up discussing a bit more until you clear your throat.

"Why don't you ask for a third party to break your tie?" and you point towards yourself, mouthing a cute me with your painted pink lips.

"No!" Paul immediatly opposes, "It would be biased, silence her!"

"Have you seen Acacius' arms?" you gauge Pedro's arms, biceps flexing under the white attire. "It definitely isn't biased, at all"

The conversation carries on after some more shots. In some, you pose seriously, but in between such, you laugh along with them, Pedro even hugging you and Paul from behind in one of both. No kisses yet, but you know fans will be rabid just with the lingering touches and flirty undertones in your interactions.

"We began together in Morocco, and I think seeing that set and the scale of the production so quickly, desensitized me to the scale of the of what- Malta was in the Coliseum, and Ridley moves at such a pace, which I actually think really helped me because you don't have time to kind of sit there and and kind of bask in the wonder of it" Paul talks. "Because you're shooting three or four scenes, build your expectations of how to meet the size of, it or anything 'cuz 'cause it's impossible" Paul looks at Pedro and asks: "and I think Ridley; did I tell you what Ridley said first day of shooting to me? He came out to the tent while they were dressing the set, thousands of extras, everything fire, camels and he comes in, and he's- he's smoking a cigar, and we're all stood around and he's like Are you nervous? and we're all like No and he slaps me on the back and goes Your nerves are no good to me, before we filmed anything. But I think it was like- it's funny, but it's this idea that this is your playground, and you have to kind of step into it and own it. So, I-I don't actually really remember my first walking into the Coliseum, 'cause I feel like I lived in the Coliseum for about three or four weeks"

"You lived in the Coliseum of your mind" Pedro quips, making Paul laugh.

"I do remember, you know, when I first walked into the Coliseum, you know. It- it gave me chills. Like, literally chills. Look! I still get the goosebumps" you point your arm. "Honestly, all of it felt just too real, and I couldn't help but for a moment, think I actually was in Rome- that I belonged to nobility"

Pedro takes your hand and kisses it gently. "That's because you do, princesa"

"One of the things that I have never experienced on a movie before, is that there was so little left to the imagination" Pedro expresses. "Me and the rest of the ensemble are together in the emperor's box, and there's this enormous battle that's taking place, and Ridley composed all of the off camera for us in the emperor's box, with Paul leaping from one ship to another taking two men down what would you call that?"

"A cloth line flying" Paul answers.

"Clothes line?" you try.

"A flying- a flying clothes line" Pedro decides, carrying on "just so that we could know what we were looking at. I couldn't f*****g believe it"

"That's true" you remark. "The result goes so hard- I mean, it looks amazing" you sheepily laugh. "The action, the violence, the epic... it all shines through. It just- it makes sense"

The conversation shifts again.

"The legacy of the first film is so profound, and has such a strong place in so many people's, like, hearts and minds, it's inescapable, but I was looking at it- and I was like" Paul shares. "The screenplay does a lot of that work for you in terms of like, the rubbing the dirt between the hands. the kind of DNA and the genetics that Lucius inherits. I remember reading the script and there's like, a moment in the script where it's Lucius puts on the breastplate and it's written like Lucius now becomes Maximus"

"But Lucius, despite being a son, is also a man" you counter. "He isn't Maximus"

Paul agrees.

"I kind of tried to park that to one side, because ultimately, where Lucius is coming from at the start of the film, he has a very different journey than Maximus does, and I was hoping that whatever DNA- and even just the physical gestures, was going to be one part of- a kind of small part of the performance" he explains. "What I tried to do is figure out exactly who Lucius was and where those differences lay between Lucius and Maximus"

"One of the things that I loved most about my character is that he's introduced in the beginning of the movie, in this very epic battle sequence, that I think in its own way homages the first film" Pedro shares. "But even better, because we follow him back to Rome and discover his direct connection to one of the only characters that is living and with us from the first movie, and I loved being a a kind of thread, an invitation, into what we know from the first movie by being Connie Nielsen's man"

Paul looks at you silently, before poking your side: "Someone is real quiet with that comment"

You narrow your eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"I am Connie Nielsen's man as Marcus Acacius, but as Pedro Pascal, I'm all y/n's"

Your face goes red at how easily you are to be understood, your husband answering just what you wanted to listen.

"Ha! Look at your face, I was right!" Paul ridiculises you.

But after such an embarrasing moment, he shifts the conversation again.

"There's a moment where Pedro has this, uh- it's so clever from a- from an acting standpoint, but also in the in the script like, you see this brutalizing Force come into Numidia, and there's this section where there's the burning of the bodies, and that it's one of my favorite shots in the film" Paul muses. "It's this closeup on Pedro, when he says Vae Victis to the conquered, and you feel like it's a really difficult thing to communicate in one line, that you see: Oh, this General is, kind of wearing this responsibility with great difficulty and shame"

"I wasn't doing that at all" your husband deadpans. You stiffle a giggle.

"You were very good in it" Paul argues back with a smile.

"That wasn't what I was playing" he insists, serious but Paul asks What were you playing? and you all laugh.

"If I had a favorite scene, I'd say it'd be naval fight" you mention. "The colliseum is filled with water, and it's this- it feels like a thing that has never been done before, and with the people cheering and the buzz, and the announcement and echo of the drumming, it's as if you were there, in the crowd. The tension is palpable, the violence is thrown at your face but the scariest one, is the one that lies underneath. Uh, Lucius character tries to attack the General while we, you know, the royals and especial guests, are sitting at our box, and he gets so close, it serves, I think the bottom climbing the ladder to bite the ankles of the top. Obviously, that before we know who Lucius actually is, but I think it's kind of cool"

The interview is ending, the last of your twelve-minute conversation being filmed now.

"I am really excited for everyone to see Paul" Pedro beams, making the younger one laugh. "I'm sorry but it has to be said. You are sensational in the movie" then adds, "and pretty easy on the eyes"

"Everyone in this movie is easy in the eyes" you quip, looking at your side. Pedro coughs a bit before speaking again, even if a faint blush is coating his cheeks.

"-And he worked so hard, and I got to see that happen like, in front of me, and on the day and just lead with Ridley, this enormous crew and this enormous cast... To get to see that, on the big screen, is really exciting and I think people are going to- they're going to love it"

"That's very kind" you exclaim softly with a smile, then add. "I'm sure of it, especially if you were a fan of the first. Both are very interwined, although each film is its own thing" you comment.

"For a lot of us, the actors, we haven't worked on a film on that scale" you violently shake your head "and I think, there's a little bit of trauma bonding that went on with, kind of having to- kind of feel like, total impostor syndrome within it all. But to see your friends operate at that level on a film of that scale, doing like incredible work. I think, across the board, I haven't seen a film on this scale for a long long time rhat's rooted it has the scale and the performances, and I personally think it's one of Ridley's greatest pieces of work"

senhoritamayblog: y/n was SO REAL holding pedro's arm and talking abt how he'd beat paul bc he's beefy ME WHEN moltisantiii: you know what i think ridley's greatest piece of work is? giving us this trio youlooklike-clarabow: y/n is truly a princess 🥹 i don't know if i want to be y/n to be with pedro or pedro to be with y/n ㅤㅤann-gell: youlooklike-clarabow well, she's the people's princess after all!

You haven't even left the room when Pedro is all over you, kissing your neck on that sweet spot of yours that elates a little breathy whine. Doesn't he know you well?

"What are you doing?" you manage to squeak out as his needy big hands grope your body, flesh soft under the flowy white dress. He grunts when he catches your panties, embarrasingly wet already at just a few sloppy kisses and eager touches.

"What do you think?" he whispers against your ear as you both try to walk away from where voices can be heard, and then Pedro is guiding you to a room, closing the door behind him. If he was able to walk to the room while kissing you, he must've seen it in a passing. Had your husband plan this all along? Greedy needy old man.

"What I think, baby, is you're forgetting something" you push him off, giggling. He makes a little pout, making it hard to keep your ground. "Now that everyone knows we're married and we suddenly both go misteriously missing at the same time, they'll just put two and two together. I mean, does it really take a smart person to figure it out?"

Pedro doesn't back down, still caging your frame against the locked door.

"So?" his annoyed and tense voice only makes you laugh more. That turned on was he? Pedro seems annoyed at your fit of laughter, his pants tight.

"What do you mean so? We almost got caught by Paul last time!" you chuckle amused. "And, are you seriously going to pretend TMZ didn't air our bussiness just about last week?"

"Well, maybe you should've thought about it before" he goes back at the task of attacking your mouth, words spewing in between hungry kisses. You mouth a little taunting innocent looking Before what? and then Pedro is talking while his gaze is glued to yours, tightening his arms around you, and the answer is just about that. "You should've thought about it before getting all flirty with me, grabbing my arm in front of the camera like the naughty girl you are. So fucking needy you can't hide it for a few hours, can't even go through an interview without touching me, looking at me, being possesive at a fictional marriage even" your face burns hot with embarrasment at that. Oh, was he being nasty on purpose? Why bring that up? "Haven't I taught you manners?"

It's hard to force yourself to hold his gaze while standing still. Taunting. Defiant.

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you chastise, "do you want people to know we are raw dogging in the dressing room? That's the manners you so badly talk about"

His face goes red, his demostrations stopping for a bit as he studies your now serious face.

"Wait, do you want to raw dog in the dressing room?" he gasps at the boldness in your words, which, to be fair, is kind of exaggerated, as you both have said worst stuff before. "That's not what I had in mind"

"That's not?" you arch an eyebrow. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. You can't just kiss my neck greedily and touch my body eagerly like a goddamn starved horny idiot, and then expect me to not act up on it, you old man"

There's silence before he speaks up again. "Y/n, you talked about manners"

You take a deep breath in, making sure the door is actually locked.

"Well, fuck them manners"

You capture his lips on a hungry kiss, same kind of force you had made fun of him, just minutes ago. He's pushing his tongue inside of you, as his hands move up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and his big calloused hands pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same.

"Manners maketh man" he's reciting, and such stupid proverb and line from one of his old works shouldn't turn you this much. Pedro lifts up the dress until your body is devoid of the cotton, murmuring about how unfair it was for you to taunt him with translucent cloth, tender flesh hiding under the white. So hard to focus on interviews, mami, when you're close to me or something like that, as you're too lost in the fire. No bra? Fuck, baby. Do you want to kill me?

"Sofa" you command, eyes darting to the furniture so you can show him where. "Now"

You take off your panties in a go, revealing the slick that's just a few seconds from running down your legs.

"I see, my legs won't be the only thing drooling" you mock his agape mouth. He takes off the blazer with shaking hands, sitting as you get on top of him. Pedro kisses his way down your neck, sucking on the skin. How will you get out of here without comfirming suspicions? Surely, there must be something inside here that could be of help.

"Well, I've wanted to do this for a while" he mumbles against the now red patches of before honey-ed skin. Again? you think.

"Have me or fuck again in public?" you ask out loud, and even if you're laughing, there's a layer of fondness in your voice. "I'm starting to wonder if you have an exhibition kink, papi"

He breathes a little no before biting right above your collarbones, his tongue then releaving the pain with a wet slick move over the flesh as you let out a whine.

"Busy schedule, mami. A husband's gotta find a way to make time for his pretty wife, even if it means fucking her in the goddamn dressing room" he says into your ear. Pedro had done more interviews than you, and between that and filming for his other projects, he's right. "So what if they find out? Need them to know who you belong to. I'm just a devoted husband, will you punish me for that?"

You caress his face, pristine hair now disheveled, the gel succumbing to the heat and sweat trapped in the room.

"Look at you, naughty boy. El burro hablando de orejas" you laugh, "but of course I won't. Need you too so bad" (look who's talking)

His finger wanders down to your pussy, big hand roaming around the area. His middle and ring finger run over it, the golden band starting to shine with your arousal. Fuck, that just made you wetter.

"Shit, baby. You're so eager... wasn't lying when you talked before"

"Needed you since you kissed me today, when you woke up" your teeth grit at his lingering digits. "Your dick rubbed against my bare thigh, fucking hard"

Truth is, you're always horny; being married to Pedro Pascal does that to you. But mornings? Waking up to that handsome face and girthy dick? You really be testing yourself sometimes.

"Jesus, mami" he whistles. "So fucking dirty, thinking about me all the interview because my morning wood grazed your skin, you dirty naughty girl"

Pedro finally slides his fingers inside of you, making you squirm under his gaze as your back archs. "So fucking beautiful, can't believe you're all mine" he moans and you squeeze his shoulders, nails digging and bruising his skin under the shirt that sticks to his skin, body heating up like a furnace.

"Please, Pedro" you plead, lip biting your under to supress a whimper. "Please curl your fingers, need to have you- feel you inside. Fuck-"

Your words cut off as he moves his fingers with learned ease, his thumb rubbing your clit as a treat.

"Mmm" you murmur with pleasure, back arched again, your tits too dangerously close to his face. Without much thought, he licks your nipple and then devours the whole breast with his mouth. All while looking at you, this absolute horndog. Your nails dig in deeper as you pronounce his name in a shaky exhale. Wanting more. Begging for more.

"Mmm? That's right" his palm on your waist squeezes lightly, more pressure on his grip. "Can't speak 'cause I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

You don't answer, instead throwing your head back, nails digging deep to the point he winces, making a face by the pain. You mouth an apology, but then he licks your nipple again, and teeth move to your nibble your earlobe―you're not sorry anymore.

"S-stop" you choke out, body shivering.

"What? Can't take what you asked for? No muerdas más de lo que puedes masticar, niña mala. Bad girl" (don't bite off more than you can chew, bad girl)

His lewd words elicit another moan out of you.

"I-I can. In fact, I want- no, need more. I don't want to cum on your fingers" you whisper in his ear, hot breath probably why he shivers. "Pull down your pants, pretty boy, because I want to cum on your dick"

"Fuck, mami. What a dirty mouth" he moans.

Eager hands try to lower his pants as your fiddle with the same feel, the borrowed wardrobe struggling to get off in the current position. His underwear goes next, and you squirm as he aligns his tip with your dripping entrance.

You moan and he grunts, as his dick enters your tight folds, sounds clashing onto each other as so do your bodies, fitting perfectly. His hands travel from your waist to ass, his head against the back of the sofa, your hands that were before on his shoulders now on his chest.

"Such a pretty view you're giving me, wifey" he tries to laugh, but the sound comes out strained along each powerful stride of his cock that buries inside of you, each bouncing harder, his hands pathethically running over your ass, back, hips, and legs, as his eyes devour the way your tits jiggle with each thrust, tongue burning with desire to suck on the skin again. "So beautiful, and all mine. Only mine. Mía"

His words drip with devotion and wordship; all the love in the world. Pedro calls you beautiful, goddess, and a string of spanish words crossed with adoration. Mami. Linda. Princesa. Diosa. Hermosa. It has your orgasm looming over, head spinning and pussy stretched, walls tightening.

"I'm close" you whisper, riding him with soft-paced movements as his turn sloppy.

You see stars, walls almost kicking his dick out as you coat it in your slick, arousal dripping down until it's coated his balls and smeared the white attire. Fuck. Now Pedro's moving his waist, hunting for his own orgasm.

"Me too" he breathes out, "stay with me"

His hands travel sloppily to your waist, lazily holding you still with his calloused digits.

"Quick, baby" you breath out, "I'm sensitive"

"I'm almost there. Just hold on a little longer" then a whine before shakily pleading. "Please, please, just wait for me"

You move your hips slowly, aroused by his needy pleads, robbing a moan out of him. "Cute" you praise, making his cheeks redden with sweat and blush.

He is cute: hair messed up, mouth red and puffy, and brown puppy eyes.

"I love you so much" Pedro let's out, and it sounds like a confession, despite being married for so long.

"I know, baby, I know" you reach for his face, removing some sweat beads from his forehead, and he leans on the touch, closing his eyes as another gutural growl erupts from his chest. "I love you too"

You keep on riding until you feel his dick twitch inside of your walls.

"We need to stop doing this" you pant out.

"Too late for that, bonita. At least no one found out this time" Pedro laughs. "But you like the talk, don't you? Gonna give 'em something to talk about" he pants, "will fill you up so good you won't be able to walk without my seed spilling from you" sweat beads from your face fall onto his. He obscenely licks the salty drops. "Te voy a dar tantos hijos, que no cabrán en la casa. That way they will know you're mine" (will give you so many kids, they won't fit in the house)

You moan loufly, folds now coated on thick ropes of hot cum, as his movements come to a stop, slowing down until all that can be heard is your uneven breaths trying to recover.

And on cue, there's a knock at the door. Shit. You both remain silent, as if it would stop, but the knocking turns persistent.

"Pedro, I know you're in there"

It's Paul freaking Mescal, again. You might just have to invite him next time if he keeps showing up like that.

"Should I go?" Pedro whispers, and you shrug, stating it would be weirder to pretend he wasn't if Paul knew he was. "How do I look?"

You eye him up and down, eye glistening with dissaproval, red cheeks giving away your thoughts as if the furrowed eyebrows and ashamed gaze didn't already.

"We are fucked"

"No" he giggles, "we just fucked"

"That's not funny!" you roll your eyes, playfully smacking his chest. "Please, look into the mirror and try to fix yourself a bit. If not, we're doomed to be remembered as a horny couple. Oh, we were going so well! Fans will make fun of us and the press will call us horndogs" you lament, exaggerating your voice.

"Oh, shush. We wanted to be able to be in public. This is what it feels like"

You blush. "Maybe we can reduce the public aspect a bit..."

Pedro snorts before doing a quick fix to his appearance, walking to the door where Mescal patiently waits behind. Oh, of course; that little fucker. After the TMZ news dropped, he connected the dots and know that whatever happened in that trailer when Pedro told him to fuck off, wasn't holy at all. Now, he's probably laughing or scheming.

"Paul!" Pedro opens the door. "W-what's up?"

The younger man does a quick scan of his friend, barely able to hide a laugh.

"Looking radiant, my friend" he answers with a shit-eating grin. "They need to do some re-shootings. Have you happen to seen y/n? She just keeps dissappearing when you- oh, when you do!" he mocks. "Well, if you ever happen to find y/n, tell her you both need to get a good fix unless y'all want to show up on TMZ again. I'm pretty sure you can find something in this dressing room to cover those marks, yeah?"

He finally breaks down laughing in front of Pedro's shocked face.

"Ah, you guys are the absolute worst" he folds in a fit of laughter, "so fucking horny you end up fucking in bathrooms and dressing rooms!"

Your voice can be heard from inside as you growl, face red with fury and shame:

"Hijo de puta" (son of a bitch!), "don't make me bring Daisy Edgar-Jones into this!"

l-u-n-a-m: they're just milking their relationship atp for promo but i'm not complaining need more pictures of the photoshoot NOW vnightx: istg if they don't stop flirting in front of my single ass face. i need a gun at0michips: have i gone insane or does pedro have love bites ㅤㅤmybritishstyle: MI HIJO DOES NOT HAVE LOVE BITES. HE JUST FELL DOWN THE STAIRS

*i'm never gonna call twitter as X. it's still twitter, and will always be. fuck that ugly bigot filthy billionaire hoe called elon-trump-cocksucker-musk.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello!! I hope you're doing well! Do you have any recs for books about twisted/problematic relationships but with woc? Obviously there's our queen octavia butler but unfortunately for me i've finished reading all her books so i'm desperately craving for books that scratch this itch. Thank you for this blog btw i really love reading all your thoughts & reviews ♥️

goddd okay this list is not going to be nearly as long as I wish it was but it is extreeeeemely varied, so at least we have that going for us lmao. and hopefully you find something interesting in here:

right out of the gate if you're chasing that Octavia high, Rivers Solomon's novel Sorrowland feels very very in that vein. it starts with a teenage girl escaping from a Black separatist fundie cult while heavily pregnant with the cult leader's twins, deciding to give birth to the babies in the woods and raise them there. and boy, does it get crazier from there! there are some eventual transformative body horror sci-fi elements that I shan't spoil, but it's a time. the relationships are pretty secondary and genuinely not the most fucked up thing here, but our main girlie Vern is very much into girls and trying to figure that out on top of all the other horrors.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first book in a fantasy trilogy by specfic queen NK Jemisin, and the first book in particular is really like. problematic relationship city. the protagonist is called to be an heir to a dying emperor and IMMEDIATELY gets embroiled in a love triangle with two of the gods that her family enslaves for power??? crazy shit.

I just kicked off this year reading a book called Darknesses by Lachelle Seville, which ALSO features a young Black woman fresh out of a cult (this one loves self harm and anorexia). and then she meets another Black girl who casually drops that she's Dracula, and oh boy do things get weirder from there. this book is like kind of Not Good but it is very entertaining; at a certain point you just have to turn off your brain and go with the vibes. it's sweeter than a lot of examples but listen, obsession and bloodlust are obsession and bloodust no matter how much your gf Dracula respects consent. there's a lot of murder!

this one doesn't have any supernatural bullshit afoot and is instead just regular degular #problematic, but Raven Leilani's Luster was one of my favorite books last year and follows an absolute shitshow of a young Black woman's extremely loaded and weird relationship with her older white boyfriend and his insane wife, as well as their adopted Black daughter.

anther no magic entry: I really love Oyinkan Braithwaite's My Sister, The Serial Killer, which is about exactly what you think it's about! the narrator is a put-upon Nigerian woman whose beautiful, beloved sister has murdered her last several boyfriends and has come crying to her dutiful sister to help her clean it up each time; the plot kicks in when the murdery sister sets her sights on the narrator's boss, a doctor to whom the narrator is also attracted. I know it's a sibling relationship instead of a romantic one but you didn't specify so! I am counting it!

this one is like very very very niceys compared to everything else I'm going to put on this list but it's also pretty hot so I have to mention it: Little Rabbit by Alyssa Songsiridej is about a young, bisexual Asian-American woman struggling to get a writing career off the ground falling in love with a Notably Older and wealthier white man and figuring out how to navigate the subsequent problems both within their own interpersonal dynamic and in how their relationship is received by others.

honorary mentions: books about fucked up white women that are written by women of color who Know!!

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng is a Victorian alternate history in which the English discovered the fairy realm and promptly did what the English did, ie, sending missionaries to teach the fairies about Jesus. the novel follows a woman traveling to the fairy kingdom to look for her missing missionary brother and promptly going insane as fairies gaslight gatekeep girlboss from all sides, complete with a side of everyone's favorite gothic horror trope: repressed sibling incest!

My Nemesis by Charmaine Craig is another very lowkey and grounded example, comparatively, but I thought it was neat and worth a mention! it's told from the POV of truly insufferable white woman writer whose emotional affair with a philosopher gets thrown for a fucking loop by the philosopher's wife, an enigmatic Chinese woman whose motivation the MC cannot guess literally at all. it's not the most exciting read in the world but the reveals hit hard and the reveals at the end made me YELL.

also for short story collections by WOC that can bring the #yikes factor in big ways I heartily endorse Roxane Gay's Difficult Women and Carmen Maria Machado's Her Body and Other Parties.

I wish I had more to throw you here; please if anyone has something to add to this list I am LISTENING

[writingonleaves]

to not know who i am, but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nothing much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: i like me better by lauv

word count: 6.4k

author's note: hello everyone!! i feel like i've been in such a rut lately but i'm glad i managed to write this one out! this is for the lovely @wyattjohnston for her winter fic exchange 2k25. demi, thank you as always for your hard work in putting this together and i hope you enjoy. sorry that it's a few days late! to everyone, please let me know what you think!!

*****

When Maia Flaherty left her usual lunchtime coffee run with a number from one very Jack Hughes, she didn’t really quite know what to think. 

“No pressure,” he had said with an easy smile. “I just think you’re pretty and the glare you gave that couple that was making out at the table next to you sold it for me.”

As she stares out on her train ride home, she’s deep in thought. This might be just a one date thing and then they find out they have nothing in common and they move on. But she knows herself. She doesn’t fall fast, but when she falls, she falls hard. What if she ends up falling harder than him, setting herself up for heartbreak. But she knows that’s also unfair to him, especially because she doesn’t know him. She appreciates his boldness in asking her out, but she doesn’t understand how he can be so confident and sure that he wants to go on a date with her. To be fair, maybe he’s only looking for something casual, to which she has even less of an idea of how to handle it, because she has never done casual and doesn’t think she could do it. 

As she’s walking the streets back to her place in West Village, she thinks about how to approach this. Knowing her, she’s too curious to not text him and she probably will think on it over the weekend. But, should she protect herself and go into this as just meeting a friend or go into this romantically? She admits that he is cute and she was the slightest bit charmed by him, but she knows that she knows nothing else about him. She takes the time to look up some of his highlights of his career (he had dropped his Instagram handle to her “just so you know I’m a real person”) and she knows that he’s good. Almost annoyingly good. As a University of Minnesota alum, she’s familiar enough with hockey as a whole. She stalks his Instagram and doesn’t find anything much besides posts with family, friends and teammates. Pretty average. But she’s still weary. 

Monday morning rolls around, and on her train to work, she takes a deep breath, clicking on his contact and copy and pasting what she had written last night. 

hi!!! it’s maia from the cafe. if the offer still stands, i’d love to go out on that date 

Not even a minute later, and she gets a response. 

what a wonderful text to get on a Monday morning

the offer absolutely still stands. what’s your schedule looking like this week?

not around during regular people work hours so monday-friday 9-5 won’t work

my weekend is pretty empty atm but idk if that works for you? i’m assuming you have games this week

no games this weekend, for once. all weeknight games.

lucky timing

lucky indeed. you around Saturday for lunch?

works for me!

you’re in jersey right? i can come out to you if that’s easier

are you kidding me?

i’m not gonna make you come out to me, especially because I’m the one who asked you out

where are you in the city? I’ll come to you

She smiles to herself.

I’m in west village, but i can meet you anywhere 

i’ll do some research after practice and get back to you?

sure

i also can suggest some places as well!! 

appreciate it. i got it though. i’m the one who asked so I feel like it’d be unfair to ask you to plan

Huh, she thinks, being surprised again. She doesn’t have much to compare to, but she can’t remember a single date she’s been on where she hasn’t been the one planning.

okay lmk if you need my help! no rush we have a whole week 

(Jack has a break in a morning practice and he’s just staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. His teammates are all making fun of him, but he pays them no mind. It’s not new for them to poke fun at him for texting girls, but he knows, he just knows that this one is different. 

He also kinda likes the idea of “we.”)

kinda wish we didn’t

oh?

saturday is so far away 

you’ll survive

She gets into the office just then and her phone is forgotten as she’s thrown into spreadsheets and meetings. It isn’t until 4 p.m. where she has the mental energy and time to look at his responses. The last text he had sent was two hours ago.  

i found a place. well, a couple

i asked some of my friends who know the city better than I do

*screenshot of list in Notes app*

i tried to find places in different parts of Manhattan, mostly in West Village. i don’t know where exactly in that area you are and how easy or hard it is for you to get wherever

sorry, just realized I’m spamming you and you’re probably working

I’m so sorry i left you hanging work was literally insane until now

honestly all of these places sound wonderful

i’ve been to a couple of them before so tell your friends they have good taste

any one in particular you like?

you choose

since you’re planning it after all 

lol

i really don’t want you having to travel that far

i literally live in nyc so if I want to see any of my friends who don’t live by me I have to travel far

and you’re literally coming from jersey

i’ll be fine with any choice you make

seriously 

He chooses one of her favorite Greek food joints about 10 blocks from where she is and she tries to put it away in her mind. She still has this whole week to go. She’s known for years that she gets overwhelmed and stressed if she thinks ahead occasionally, and this is definitely one of those times. 

(There’s a game on Wednesday night, and her best friend and roommate Carrie urges her to put it on TV in the background while they’re eating dinner. Carrie knows next to nothing about hockey, so Maia tries to explain it to her. But most of the time, she’s quiet and her eyes are zeroed in on 86. Or trying to, because everyone skates so fucking fast. He scores a goal and assists another, and she knows that that’s literally his job, but she can’t help but feel something watching him skate around so confidently. 

She’s always respected the skill it takes to play hockey. Skating is hard. But the hockey attitude wasn’t always something that she loved. She understands that she’s projecting a lot of unwarranted judgement. But she doesn't think it’s all based on lies.

As the minutes wind down in the game, she zones out. She really doesn’t understand how or why this literal superstar of the sport just approached her and after knowing literally nothing about her, asked her out. This shit doesn’t happen to her. She also knows the usual crowd that hockey players go for. She’s not blonde. She’s not a model. She’s not anything like that. 

What does he want from her?)

*****

She wakes up Saturday morning a bit groggy, thanks to the glasses of wine her and Carrie had the night before. She goes through her morning routine, but decides to forgo the coffee and make a smoothie instead. She usually likes to sip on her coffee for hours rather than down it all in one go. And she knows if she downs it, she’ll start shaking. 

She doesn’t need to be shaking today. 

Carrie stumbles out when Maia just leaves the bathroom and offers to make a smoothie for her. With a yawn, Carrie nods as she slides past her to go into the bathroom. 

It’s 9:48 a.m. They’re meeting right at noon, so she has a bit of time. Her phone buzzes right after she finishes cleaning the blender. 

good morning! see you soon

She just sends back a couple of emojis, before scrolling around on her social media accounts, sipping on her smoothie. It’s just the waiting now that’s making her more nervous. 

She already knows what she’s gonna wear. An olive green sweater she bought recently that she’s been loving, black leggings, brown booties and earrings that she got years ago when she studied abroad. She’s leaving her hair down and putting some light makeup on. Nothing crazy. This is literally lunch. And she’s not gonna overthink for a boy. 

Carrie proves to be a good distraction, simultaneously hyping her up, assuring her and talking about other things to keep her head level. She walks to the subway station and goes on the train, airpods in. This is all routine. The way there is no stranger to her, often meeting up with her brother for dinner around the area. 

She checks the time. On time. 

She approaches the restaurant’s front at 11:57 and decides to walk in and grab a table. She stops in her tracks when she sees that he’s already there, in the corner by the window that she usually loves to sit at. He’s wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans, a baseball cap flipped backwards on his head. She waves off the hostess and heads in his direction. 

He looks up from his phone and immediately locks it, standing up. She smiles in greeting and he comes around to grab her bag as she shrugs off her jacket. She thanks him softly, to which he just smiles back at. As she’s sitting down, he pours out some water.

“You didn’t get lost getting here?” She jokes. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that directionally challenged. Just not used to it.”

“That’s what you get for living in Jersey.”

“Oh. So that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

And that just sets the tone for the rest of the date. It’s…surprisingly easy. The follow up question immediately is if she’s from the city, to which she snorts and says “absolutely not,” but she’s been living here for over two years now. She grew up in Buffalo, she says, and went to college at University of Minnesota, to which he, of course, widens his eyes. “You went to Minnesota, and you’re not a hockey fan?” She rolls her eyes. “When did I say I’m not a hockey fan?” She talks about how yes, she went to a couple of games when she was there and they were always fun, but she wasn’t necessarily an avid fan. 

He talks about growing up in Toronto even though he was born in Orlando and then going to Michigan and how hockey was literally just his life from a young age, especially with parents who were also involved, as well as an older and a younger brother growing up to play too. Sure, she knows all of this (she couldn’t help herself and did enough research), but it is nice and different to hear from him directly. She does slip for a second and makes fun of his private school upbringing (“It tracks.”) but the shocked delight on his face lets her know that he doesn’t take offense. 

As they order the food and it comes and they start eating, she lets herself be charmed. She didn’t expect him to be so…normal. Normal in the way that she often forgot that he was one of the best hockey players in the country. Normal in the way that parts of him remind her of her closest guy friends. But then he would mention something about his career or just a random detail in his life that would make her remember. 

She notices that he also is very aware of how much he talks. It’s natural for her to ask more questions, because that’s just how she’s wired, but he turns questions back to her that excite her or make her laugh, and then she goes on a minor tangent. It’s very back and forth. Balanced. 

She’s having a really good time. 

She expected him to be more…straight-forward in terms of flirting, due to how he asked her out, but he’s not. He seems a bit nervous at times even, chuckling adorably and avoiding eye contact, but then he says something that’s so just so incredibly confident that makes her flustered or let out a scoff of disbelief. 

Before they know it, they’re done eating. She protests when he immediately grabs the check and pulls out his card, to which he just playfully glares at her for. She does relent and thanks him, and she’ll never forget the boyish smile he gave her. 

They’re both on the same page, not wanting their time together to end quite yet, lingering to leave. And then she suggests grabbing a coffee from a place around the corner and walking to a nearby park. She teases him, asking if he’ll get cold to which he scoffs at (“I’m basically a Canadian and I live at the rink. I’ll be fine. Will you?” She laughs. “I was born and raised in Buffalo. Don’t worry about me.”) 

They grab coffee (to which she puts her foot down and pays and he lets her), him a black coffee and her an iced chai, and she leads them leisurely to a nearby park. It’s a little chilly, but it’s not windy which is good, and they find an empty bench and sit down, their conversation and battering just coming so incredibly easy. Even to the point where sometimes, she’s not necessarily calling him out, but she’s challenging some of his thoughts. She’s not shattering his confidence at all, but definitely subtly giving him a reality check and just being honest.

And not even purposefully. It’s just how she is.

(He really appreciates it, actually. It’s been awhile since someone who he’s just met isn’t afraid to challenge him off the rink. He loves the attention and always has, and she’s giving that to him, but there’s also something innate in her that’s so grounded and in turns, grounds him.)

But it’s also different. It’s different when he randomly throws out a compliment here and there, saying how he loves her laugh and how cute she is. The way he’s paying attention to everything she’s saying. The way he just can’t help but chuckle almost incredulously because she’s so much more than he imagined, even though he’s the one who asked her out. 

Before they know it, it’s almost 4 and they’ve been chatting the whole time. Yet somehow, it still feels like they could keep going. She walks him to the nearest subway station since it’s on her way home. She gives him a farewell hug and he follows his gut and kisses her on the cheek, promising to text her. She smiles one more time before turning to walk back to her apartment.

When she gets back to her place, Carrie’s there and ready for a recap. She says everything she can remember them talking about, which is a lot, while Carrie just listens carefully. Throughout it, she’s trying to downplay it, probably for self-preservation purposes, looking back. Carrie lets her dwell on it occasionally, but also interrupts when needed to try to assure her friend that she’s a catch and there’s a reason he asked her out in the first place and she can’t play herself down like that. 

What she knows for a fact at this point is that she likes spending time with him, and she does have romantic feelings for him. Everything else? She has no idea. She has no idea if they’d pair together well. She has no idea what he wants from this. She has no idea how he actually feels about her, because he could’ve just thrown out those compliments because he’s naturally flirty. It wouldn’t surprise her. And god, she can’t help but let her mind wander into his career and being in the spotlight and how that just affects…everything.

She just doesn’t know. 

(Meanwhile, he returns to an empty place, Luke out with some friends for the night. He can’t stop smiling, replaying the whole day in his head. She’s just so much more than he expected, able to keep up with his quips, often beating them. She laughs and smiles so freely. She’s so damn smart. She’s beautiful. 

He’s had his fair share of hookups and casual things, but this? This is different. It’s scary, he thinks, that he’s this invested after one date. It’s unfamiliar territory, and there’s so much more he wants to know about her. 

He needs to know everything he can about her. Before she figures out that she’s way too good for him.)

*****

Four weeks pass, and they haven’t seen each other. There have been some sporadic texts here and there, but with the chaos of both their jobs and then Thanksgiving, it hasn’t accounted to more than that. 

(She’s trying to get over it and let it pass. He wants anything but that)

On an early December evening, Maia’s just finished cleaning up the dishes when she gets a call. When she sees his name, she blinks. She clicks accept.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jack.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?”

“I’m doing okay. Thanksgiving was good! I got to go back home for a few days. How about you? Did you even have a break?”

“Not really. I had some family come to watch some games though, so that was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” she hums. 

“Listen-I…I know it’s been awhile.”

“Almost a month.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out guiltily. “I-I’m really sorry about that. I’ve…the season’s just been so crazy and, yeah. I’ve been meaning to reach out sooner, but just, like. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she replies automatically. “I get it. Your schedule is crazy. I feel like you have a game every other day.”

“You’ve been keeping up?” He teases lightly. 

She rolls her eyes. “A bit more than I used to, sure. But that really doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs a bit, before settling down into a serious tone. “If you have time, or if you even want to, because I totally understand why you wouldn’t, I’d love to go out again. I just, I had a really good time with you last time. Again, I know I…if you say no, I get it.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, but she knows her answer. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she smiles to herself at his surprised tone. “You surprised?”

“A bit. I mean, I kinda fell off the face of the planet. I would understand if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

He sighs. “This week? Not much, unfortunately. I’m only around for dinner tomorrow and Friday, and then I’m gone for a few days on a stretch of away games.”

“Wanna do tomorrow?”

“You around?”

She snorts. “I’m not as busy as you are, Mr. NHL. I’m free most weeknights.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow night’s perfect. I’ll actually be in the city in the afternoon to meet up with a friend so I’ll just stay and meet you around there.”

“Oh good. I don’t have to pretend I want to go to Jersey.”

“This again?”

She laughs. “I can choose this time. Do you know where you’re meeting your friend?

“Yeah. I have his address. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes and she briefly looks at the location on Google Maps. 

“Oh. Battery Park. That’s close to where I am. You must really like this friend if you’re willing to travel that far. It’s a pretty long way from Newark.”

“Right? That’s what I told him. So, tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can figure out a place and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning the latest if that works? What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything you like.”

“Jack.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. How does ramen sound?”

“Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you,”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Tomorrow comes, this time at a lowkey but busy ramen place where they’re sat side by side and their knees are touching. Jack’s hair is out this time, and the waves are falling across his forehead and she just loves the way it looks. He notices the two rings she’s wearing as one quickly catches a light in the restaurant. They continue on from the last time they talked but this time, swimming the surface of deeper conversations. 

She talks about her constant doubts about her job and how she sometimes just wants to pick up and movs somewhere else and start new. He talks about how he knows he’s good at hockey and knows this is the only path for him, but how he recognizes that outsiders look and sometimes see a sell-out or someone who doesn’t work hard. But he’s learned to just put his head down and play and to do it well. That’s something she can also relate to. 

She talks about how her relationship with her older brother is one that she’s found to be very grateful for, especially because they’re so far apart in age. A lot of who she is is based on his personality. He talks about being the middle child and being close in age to his brothers, and how competition was always just built into every activity they did. He’s realized, especially as he’s gotten older, how much he appreciates his brothers and having all three of them being in the same league, with Luke on the same team, and going through similar experiences but also completely different trajectories. 

(Somewhere, they both take a few sake shots and Maia’s not quite drunk, but buzzing, her laughter more free and her face redder).

Even semi-intoxicated, she decides not to ask the questions she really wants to yet that focus around them and what they are, unclear of where they stand. They’re sitting so close to each other and she relishes in it, wanting more. When she runs a hand through her hair to push it back, she notices his eyes flickering at that action, which means…nothing. She has to break away eye contact sometimes because he’s just staring at her so intensely. 

No wonder he has girls wanting him left and right, she thinks. She’s kind of no better. 

Towards the end of the night (he paid again and she only let him after he said he would let her pay next time. Next time), they plan out vaguely when they’ll see each other next. He’s away for the next week or so, and she just shrugs. She gets it. It would be naive of her to think she can change it. “I’ll let you know the second I land,” he says, and she just nods. She then jokes that maybe their next date could be skating, and he rolls his eyes, though he takes it into consideration. When he asks if she’s serious, she snorts, “I mean, sure. But you’re not gonna have to teach me how, if that’s what you’re going for.” He laughs. Loudly.

When they part ways, he hugs her tightly and for a long time. She breathes him in subtly, her eyes fluttering shut when she feels him press a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

Maybe that’s when she should’ve asked. Because that act was way too intimate to feel friendly. But she didn’t, and she watched him walk away, chuckling as he turned around to shoot her a parting wink. 

She went to sleep that night, somehow, with so many thoughts circling around her mind)

*****

Maia has an idea of when he’s landing, so she’s not surprised when she gets a call on a Thursday night.

He seems a bit out of breath, and she asks him if everything’s okay. Everything’s fine, he says. He just landed back in Newark and is heading home. He cuts to the chase, and asks if she’s around the next night. She blinks, because she knows he has a game. He clarifies. Is she around after the game? (“Or for the game,” he adds quickly. “If you want to come, I can get you tickets.”) While she’s flattered, she knows that’s crossing a line at this point and she politely turns down his offer. But yeah, she says. I’m around after. What’s up? He asks if he can take her out on a date. And she knows her answer (it’s obviously yes) but she says only if she’s allowed to go to him in Jersey. He protests immediately, but she shuts him up (“Both of our dates have been way closer to where I am. It’s only fair, Maia.”) 

It’s gonna be a late night date, since the game (assuming no overtime) won’t end until at least 10:00. He’s not sure what he has in store, but she’s okay with not knowing. The only thing he assures her of is that he’ll drive her back into the city afterwards. Traffic should be light, so she doesn’t fight him. 

(That should’ve been another hint that this was something worth pursuing. She has a hard time letting go of control of plans, especially with people she hasn’t known for awhile.

She trusts him already)

When he hangs up, she thinks for a second. He had told her during their last date that he would let her know the second he landed. 

And he did. 

Huh.

*****  

The next night, she’s nervous. 

Dinner’s already been eaten. She caught the first period of his game, but had to leave to catch her trains to meet him. With encouraging words from Carrie paired with some hype up music, she’s on her way.

When she steps out of the station on this abnormally warm December night, she immediately sees him leaning against his car. His hair is damp from the shower he probably just took, and he’s sporting a peacoat over a sweater and blue jeans. 

He perks up when he sees her and she practically skips over to him. She smiles and pulls him into a hug, and she feels him press a light kiss in her hair. 

“Hey.” She says softly. 

“Hi,” he mutters in her hair, pulling away to lean down and place a kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He opens the door for her as she slides in, and she’s thankful that she followed her instincts and dressed comfortably in her beloved Minnesota sweatshirt, stifling a yawn as she thanked him. She puts on her seatbelt and leans back, watching him climb in. 

He turns to her, “Wanna aux?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, already fiddling around to connect her Apple carplay. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He chuckles, looking behind him to pull onto the road. 

She shrugs. “What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She snorts. “You don’t mean that.” She scrolls through her playlists and debates on which one to do. “I saw that you guys lost. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies automatically and she catches his eye and gives him a look of doubt. He corrects himself. “Okay, it’s frustrating, but none of that right now. I wanna hear about you. How’s your week been? Did that thing with your boss get resolved?”

She blinks. Right. She had mentioned that briefly when he called her earlier in the week. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I don’t know. You gotta learn which battles to fight, you know? This one is one I don’t have to win.”

He nods with a soft hum, stopping at a red light. “Do you like milkshakes?”

She chuckles a bit at the change of topic. “I don’t mind them.”

“Wanna get some right now?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” he admits. “Because I want one.”

“That can’t be on the diet plan you athletes have going on.” 

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. Worth it though.”

“Do they have oreo or cookies and cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” He grins, and she takes a couple seconds just to watch it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Thanks for coming out to Jersey at 10 pm.”

She chuckles. His heart drops to his stomach. “I had nothing else to do on a Friday night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe that.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

She leans back into her seat. “I don’t have the energy to hang out with people every night. Respect to the people who do. That’s just never been me. I can sit for hours and not talk to anyone.”

“You’re an introvert, then.”

“Is that surprising?”

He takes a second to think about it. “Yes, one, because you always talk about your friends so I know you have a lot. And two, because we literally talked for four hours on our first date.”

She shrugs, looking straight ahead of her to get the courage to respond. “There’s very few people in my life who I can talk with for hours.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”

She looks back over to him, watching as he shoots her a quick smile before he focuses back on the road. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Practices and games and travelling in the west coast, so I’m a little jetlagged, which isn’t great.”

“I didn’t realize that you guys play games like, every other day. Which is dumb, because like, it makes sense, but that just sounds exhausting. What am I saying though? It’s literally your job.”

He laughs softly and she tries to ignore the warmth spreading across her skin. “It can be tiring, for sure. But yeah, I love it, you know? Wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Just then, they pull into this small, unassuming diner and roll right through the drive-thru. He orders a chocolate milkshake and she gets an oreo one, and before he can think about it, she forces her credit card in his hand. He laughs and relents, and they pull out and are back on the road quickly. She sips on her milkshake and smiles to herself, not even asking where he’s driving them to next. 

(She thinks they could be anywhere and she’d still want to keep talking to him forever. He thinks that practically every worry in his life could fade away if he could look at her smile for the rest of his life)

He rolls up to one of his favorite views in Jersey of midtown Manhattan, finding an alcove and backing his car into it. Hamilton Park. They both get out and all she can do is stand there and admire the stunning view, milkshake in hand. She’s literally breathless. The last time she remembers feeling like this is when she saw the Pantheon for the first time nearing midnight with her brother when they were in Rome in 2022. She doesn’t notice him unlocking the trunk and setting up the backseat with blankets and pillows until he softly calls her name. 

(When her eyes met his, the glow of Manhattan in her eyes, he swears to this day that his heart skipped a beat. He was hers already then)

They settle into the makeshift couch, not quite touching but really freaking close. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, just looking at the view. 

He hums, his eyes flickering between the view he knows too well and the girl who makes him feel better about who he is simply for just being around. It sure is. 

She lets herself admire the view silently for a minute or so more, before she can’t take it anymore. “Jack?” She asks, still looking out. 

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” 

Wrong answer, if the unimpressed expression on her face is any indication. She nudges her knee with his. “Come on. You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What are we?” 

He shrugs, trying to ignore the frogs in his stomach. He should’ve known she was gonna bring it up first. She’s too smart not to. “I-I like you. Wouldn’t have chased after you if I didn’t. You-you’re amazing, you know that? I don’t think you realize how much you can just stay on someone’s mind. I know this is only our third date, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I like who I am when I’m around you.” 

She swallows, pausing to sip her milkshake and wiggling into the blankets. He thinks she’s adorable. “I haven’t liked someone in so long. I thought I forgot what it felt like. But then you asked me out and I see a text from you or hear you through my phone or see you on TV, and I’m like oh. I think I remember what it feels like now. It feels like this.” 

He has to take a second because oh, maybe her dreams of becoming an author aren’t just words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She swallows again. “But I, I can’t do casual. I never have. I really, really wish I could

sometimes. So if that’s what you want, I can’t do it.” 

“What makes you think I want casual?” 

She snorts, “Because you’re a hot and talented hockey player? You can’t blame me for making the assumption.” 

“You think I’m hot?” 

Maia smacks him in the stomach. Jack laughs. She takes a breath. It’s now or never. “I just, I know you have girls in your DMs and your comments and everywhere else that are prettier and maybe could give you more of what you’re looking for or something that’s not…me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She lets out a small noise and smiles slightly. “Thanks. But, I-I know that you have so many options. I won’t be hurt if I’m not the one you choose.”

He taps her knee so she’s paying attention and listening to his next words. “I-I’ve done casual before. I don’t think I can do that with you.” 

“You can’t? Why not?” 

“Well, A, because you don’t want to, which leads to B, I don’t want to. Not with you.” It’s his turn to swallow now as he looks at the skyline. “I really, really like you, Maia.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“All in?” 

“All in.”

“You completely sure?” She interlaces her hand in with his and raises his knuckles up to her lips. He’s utterly floored. But he’s nervous. And she can sense it. 

“Yes. I just…it’s, I’m not trying to backtrack. I mean, you’ve already seen some of it. Like, during the season, it’s intense. Game every two or three days, practice pretty much everyday, stretches of roadies and being away. I feel like, not that I doubt you or us or anything, but that’s not, I won’t be around as much as I should be. How is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I figured that from the first day. I get it. Well, as much as I can get it. I’m sure it’s gonna be tough. I know it will be.” She squeezes his hand, leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

“You’re too good for me.”

She scoffs, grinning as he places a kiss on her temple. She places her milkshake by her side, summoning up some courage. She adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing him, and he just watches her intensely. With her white BU crewneck, a blanket around her shoulders, hair falling just past her shoulders, and the soft smile on her face, his mind goes quiet. Peaceful.  

She kisses him first. Innocently and softly, before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

He responds quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against hers again. They’re both smiling into the kiss and everything feels calm. He wraps a hand around her waist as she maneuvers her hands around his neck, playing with his hair. She’s so lost in him that she doesn’t really realize that she moves herself so that she hovers over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He has his hands placed on her lower back.

He lets out a low groan, “Baby.”

Her brain short circuits, both at the nickname (she’s always flinched at it before, but she loves the way he says it) and the timbre of his voice, but she has enough sense to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily. “Sorry,” she breathes out, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She needs a second. 

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing her face back up to his and brushing his thumbs on her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I saw you.”

She chuckles, sliding off of him and settling into his side, staring out at the skyline again. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I kinda knew if I kissed you before knowing what we were, it would be more heartbreaking if you rejected me.”

“If I rejected you?” 

“Yes.”

“In what world would I have rejected you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s not this world.”

She keeps herself from rolling her eyes, and just leans up to kiss him on the cheek. Because, you know, she can do that now. 

(That night, staring out at the stunning skyline of a city she has grown to love, with the warmth of the blankets over her legs and over her shoulder, a boy she was very quickly growing to care for deeply pressed by her side, telling her he feels the same way, she felt lifted. Free.

Unstoppable)

(When he drops her home, it’s 1:18 a.m. and she doesn’t want to get out of the car. With the way his hand has been attached to her thigh, it seems like he doesn’t want her to get out either. But he has an 11 am practice tomorrow and he just had a game. He’s exhausted. 

He kisses her once, twice, a third time before letting her go. As soon as she steps through the lobby of her apartment building and out of view, his grin practically splits his face. He smiles all the way home)

[midnight-mourning]

Roses are Red

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 2💘💘

I was feeling, something, when I wrote this, and by that i mean lots of flirting and such ajsldkfjklsjdf

Prompt: Gardeners Sun and Moon preparing a special bunch of roses for their dear Y/N and hiding an engagement ring in a single special rose. Y/N happily saying yes and giving the boys a smooch!

Word Count: 2403

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

You stand by the kitchen door, hand on your hip and brow raised. 

"This again?" You ask the moon-themed bot in front of you, as he leans one elbow on the counter. Awkwardly, mind you, with his height. 

He shrugs, despite very clearly blocking the door to outside. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Sweet."

You cross your arms, nodding to behind him. "Okay, then may I get past you to go outside?"

"Why bother?" He tsks. "Dreadful weather today, wouldn't you rather stay inside?"

You wrinkle your nose. "No. I think it's a lovely morning actually, based on how sunny it is, and the nice breeze coming in through the window. I'd like to read my book on the swing." 

You'd gotten up extra early for exactly this reason. You were hoping if you woke up just a bit sooner, you could sneak out and enjoy the garden as you'd so been hoping to. It was a bit frustrating that you had to put it that way. 'Sneaking out' of your own home. But that's what it had come to at this point. 

Loved them as you did, but your gardeners had been exceedingly... difficult over the course of the last month or so. Despite the spring months finally being upon you, the prime time to truly enjoy the garden and appreciate their hard work, you'd been banned from the space entirely. 

Keep in mind, they were always bashful when it came to their work, and would sometimes not let you see their handiwork in the early days of spring since it wasn't 'complete' until all the flowers bloomed. This was different however, as you hadn't been barred from seeing the castle gardens just mere yards from your residence, nor the plants being tended to in the greenhouse.

No, it was specifically what they were working on in your garden—the walls far too high for you to peek over, unfortunately—where the source of your woes lied. Apparently. They were being incredibly secretive about the whole affair, going so far as to deny outright that you were banned from your own space.

Or in this case, making excuses. 

"Ah, but the weather could change at any time. Surely you'd rather not take the risk and spend your time doing something else?"

You lean back on the kitchen counter. "Like?"

"Reading your book inside, of course." Moon nods, straightening and walking over to you. "Even better, you can read it to me, out on the parlor couch, perhaps. I could hold you, or better yet, you could hold me. I've a terrible crink in my neck that only resting in your lap can resolve I fear. What do you say?"

You tilt your chin up as he now stands in front of you, towering over you even when he sets his hands on the counter on either side of you. Not so subtly blocking you in. 

You hum. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sun can handle himself for a bit, and really I think I've more than earned a morning's rest." He leans down so your faces are only a few inches apart. "You wouldn't deny your poor Beloved a break, Star. Right?"

You huff, though the temptation to take him up on his offer—and more—was at an all time high. "Beloved is a bit of a stretch at the moment."

"Is it now—" Just as the gap was about to close between you, Moon is gone. He makes a strangled noise of surprise as he's yanked back by a half-gloved yellow hand.

Sun releases him after a moment, cheery as can be. "More than earned a morning's rest, hm? Last I recall you didn't spend six hours potting pansies without a break, did you?"

Moon grumbles, but doesn't retaliate further than that. 

Before you can say anything, Sun turns to you, seeming to know what you were going to say. "The garden is off limits for the time being, Sunbeam. I might suggest the castle grounds for a good location instead. Once we've finished up here this morning I'd be happy to join you. I'll even bring lunch if you'd like." He finally finishes putting on his glove, adjusting his work apron. 

"And just where do I fit into that scenario?" His counterpart asks, searching around for his own outerwear.

Sun's grin widens further, eyes upturned crescents. "Why, you'll be busy trimming the hedges that you've been putting off all week, of course."

"That all sounds lovely, though I do feel bad for Moon." You step closer to the sunny animatronic, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. "But I do have to press you on the reason for why I can't access part of my own home. Which you live in, mind you."

He sadly doesn't buy into your scheme, hand cupping your cheek as his rays click. "You'll find out soon enough. No need to go spoiling the surprise at this time. Go enjoy your morning, Love." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you scoff lightly, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

"Fine. But no more putting mud on the windows, while I'm gone. Makes me feel like I'm living in a cave." You hadn't expected them to go to such lengths, though knowing them you weren't surprised either. 

"No promises~"

Later on in the day you do in fact, enjoy a picnic with Sun, Moon nearby as he begrudgingly trims hedges. Though, another week goes by, and you still can't enter the garden. Not to mention, the flirty banter you typically so easily exchange has dropped to practically nothing. 

Your advances are avoided, to the point you can hardly even get a goodnight or good morning kiss. Which, given that you were used to being overwhelmed with affection, being underwhelmed is, incredibly deflating. So, you decide to change your tactic. 

You wait until one of them is alone, in this case Sun, to strike. While he may act very blunt and avoidant with Moon around, alone you think you can get him to slip up and finally tell you what they're up to. 

You find him on a quiet rainy afternoon hard at work in the greenhouse. The rain pitter-patters softly against the glass far above, the space cast in a bit of shadow from the grey sky and plants that are all encompassing throughout. 

He's at a workbench, tending to a group of sickly looking hydrangeas when you find him. He jumps a fraction when your arms wrap around him, head resting on his shoulder as you watch him work. 

"Oh, hello, Starlight. What brings you here in these conditions?" Despite the evenness of his tone you can hear a tinge of anxiety underneath. 

Your hands shift to slide across his arms, causing him to freeze at your touch. "Was curious about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well, as you can see, I'm simply just—" He hesitates as you turn to kiss one of his rays. "B-busy. Would hate for these hydrangeas to wither away because of a lack of care."

You chuckle, kissing him again. "I suppose so. What a pity." Just as he turns to face you, you pull back from him, moving to sit on the workbench instead. 

"Something else you need, Sweetpea?" Sun chuckles nervously, you can see the smallest hint of steam arising from him.

You have to smother your smirk to keep your own composure. "Nope, just want to watch you work is all. Don't mind me."

"Ah, of course."

For several minutes there's nothing but muted clinking and such as Sun works, posture stiff as you keep your eyes—and hands—on him. Just simple little touches, traces patterns on his forearms or handing him things every so often. It only spurs you further as you notice your plan is working, the flustered avoidance you'd been experiencing is now just fluster, and you see your chance. 

"You know. There is something else I'm thinking you could help with." You reach out and cup his chin. "If you're willing, that is."

You see his rays flutter just a tad. "That so?" 

"Mhm. It'd be really easy for you to do too. And if you do, I might have something for you in return." You lean in, just hovering your lips above his smile. 

He chuckles, eyes-lidded. "A trade then? I'm certainly not opposed."

"I was hoping you wouldn't be. Now, close your eyes—hey!" You're suddenly plucked off the bench and hauled over a shoulder by blue and white hands. Quickly marched away from a startled and utterly confused Sun, as you see when you glance back. 

Moon sets you down by the door to the greenhouse, displeased grin on his features. "Dirty tricks like that belong in the garden, Moonflower."

"Well, I'm not allowed in the garden, so I had to resort to other locations." You huff, brushing off your clothes. "Was that really necessary?"

He bends to your level, eye to eye and inches apart. "It was."

"You're not on my kiss list now, I hope you know that." 

Moon's hands cup your cheeks, faceplate spinning once. "What a shame then, that you're on mine."

He kisses you once, then steps back. 

"Tomorrow, if the weather clears up, tomorrow you can go in the garden as you choose. I promise." His thumb rubs against your cheek, troubled look in his eyes before he shakes his head. 

You keep your frown, despite the heat on your face, and nod. "Tomorrow, then."

You stomp out of the greenhouse and into the rain in the hopes of making it clear your resolve is temporary. In reality you think it just makes you cold, and wet. 

But, the next morning the sun peeks through the clouds and after a brief and somewhat quiet breakfast, your gardeners finally relent. 

While you're beaming with excitement, they both seem nervous as can be. You're so caught up in all the activities you wish to do that you're only half catching the anxious looks and fidgeted movements they share between each other. 

Sun's hands are clasped in front of him as he speaks. "We're sorry it's taken so long, Love. We had several setbacks—" He sends a glare to Moon, who shrugs. "But, we hope you like it."

"And if you don't, just keep it to yourself." Moon's hand rests on your shoulder with a snicker, though there's still that nervous hint to his tone. 

You scoff at the two of them. "I always love what the two of you create. Regardless of whether it's for me or anyone else." 

With a final sigh, Sun steps out of your way and you all but skip over to and out the door, the warm morning light hitting your skin like an embrace. The garden sparkles from the dew and the day prior's rain. All across—

"Roses?" You ask, in awe at the sheer abundance of them. 

Several varieties and colors cover the expanse of the garden, from the edges to the center. Every flower bed is filled to the brim with them. Yes, there's the typical flowers and bushes they plant as well, sprinkled in here and there. Primarily, however, are the roses. 

You walk through the grass with a sense of curiosity at the scenery around you. It's breathtaking, but not the least bit suffocating. Brimming with life, but not crowded. It was, in a way, perfect. 

Though, you don't understand why they tried so hard to hide this from you. Yes, it was stunning, but the secrecy you just couldn't—

As you turn around again, you see the two of them standing there, together, with a large bouquet in their hands. It consists of bright yellow and deep purple—near black—roses. 

"These are for you, if you hadn't already guessed." Moon's gaze is elsewhere as he holds the flowers out with his counterpart. 

Sun's rays are spinning quickly as you flick your gaze to him, he coughs and also looks away. "We, we hope it's to your taste. We got what we thought would suit you best."

You're too stunned to really think on the words. "Oh, these are, incredible." You say, gently taking the neatly wrapped bouquet from them. "For me, really? You didn't need to—"

Inspecting the flowers closer, you realize that in the center of the cluster, there's something shimmering in the middle of a rose. This one is different from all the others. Its center is yellow, but the outer petals expand out into that deep violet, with speckles of contrast all throughout. Lying in the very center however, is a ring. 

It clicks then for you. 

"This needed to be special, to show how much you mean to us, hence all the preparation." Sun states. 

Moon continues. "An ordinary flower wouldn't do you justice, nor would an ordinary proposal. The garden served as the best place to refine both."

You nod slowly, feeling a little more than just choked up. 

"Is, are you, will you—" Sun stops himself. 

"Would you do these two humble fools the honor of having your hand?" Moon asks. 

"Yes, that."

You nod again, quicker now, face on fire and tears pricking your eyes. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Before either can react you shift the bouquet so you can grab them both by their shirts, planting a kiss to each of their smiles several times. 

Breathless, you pull back to hug them both. "I would have taken just a simple stroll by the lake, you didn't have to go through all this trouble just for me. But know I appreciate it more than anything. Thank you, I love you. So, so much."

Based on the clicks and whirls that emit from the two of them, and the bits of steam, you think they're as overwhelmed as you in that moment. Sun's lop-sided grin and Moon's half-lidded daze makes you chuckle. 

"Duly noted." Sun states. 

Moon nods. "Don't spend four years seeding, growing, and experimenting with roses next time. Understood."

"Four years?" Your brows shoot up. "But we met just roughly four years ago."

"We know. We started on this about a week in."

At this you shake your head, laughing outright. You give them another kiss, and revel in that moment. 

It's going to be one you cherish for years to come.

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Thank you for the lovely request @amarynthian-chronicles!! I love how you always write the boys with a sense of whismy and charisma so I tried to channel that for this hehe ^^

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 9

Source for pic

Trouble 9

Word Count: 5471

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I've left very ominous comments in the last chapter, saying something big would happen in chapter 9... I didn't get to write the part I wanted, but I still think some big stuff happens in this chapter... I'll let you all be the judges of that! So tell me all about it, will you?

Masterlist

BANG, BANG, BANG! 

Your hands cover your ears, but not even that can keep out the deafening sound of the incessant pounding on the front door. 

Desperate sobs make your shoulders shake as tears flow freely down your already tear-streaked cheeks. 

You're so tired. 

“Make it stop… please, please, make it stop.” You whisper, pleading with whichever deity is willing to listen because you've run out of options. 

“Come on, Trouble! I know you're in there!” Zoro? “If you don't open this fucking door, I swear I will break it down!”

The relief that washes over you is immediate and dizzying. It's Zoro. It's not your stalker. It's Zoro! 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Don’t open, Kitten.

Ignoring the text, you get up swiftly and if you thought relief might stop the tears, it's the exact opposite. You're crying even harder. For a split second your fingers tremble against the doorknob, weighing your options. There's a little voice in the back of your head telling you that Zoro will get hurt because of you, that you'll regret it, but another shout from Zoro keeps your thoughts from spiraling further. 

“Trouble!”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: If you tell him anything about our little secret, I WILL hurt him.

“I'm going to count to three!” Zoro shouts.

Yet he doesn't even get to one. You need to see him. Unlocking all the bolts with shaky fingers, you swing the door open almost all the way, your hand flying to your mouth as you try to stifle a sob. 

“Fucking finally! I've been texting all day, trying to call. I only just got out of work because every time I was about to leave, there seemed to–” Zoro pauses his angry tirade, his eye scanning you from top to bottom, taking in your heaving shoulders, your wet and puffy face, the bags beneath your eyes, and most likely the way your clothes hang looser from lack of sustenance and stress. “The fuck?”

You can't speak. He's all you can think of. A beacon of light, a safety net tethering you back when you were lost in a spiral of fear. 

“Zo…”

He reaches but pulls back instantly, his head cocking to the side as he assesses you. You avoided his touch like the plague last weekend, hell, you've been avoiding him all week. 

You've avoided him for a lifetime, it seems. 

Like a spring, you jump forward, your arms instantly wrapping around his broad torso, and his scent hits you like a truck. He's home. He's safety. He's everything. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, Trouble, I'll take care of it, okay?” When his strong arms envelop you in warmth, you bury your face against his shirt, not caring one bit if you're about to leave snot, drool, and tears all over it. You need to be closer. You need to feel safer. “Did something happen to Shanks?”

You shake your head. Thank God your father is away. If he saw you like this, he would break. Though maybe if your dad were home, you wouldn't even have a stalker… 

Zoro's hand tangles in your hair, settling against your nape as he cradles you closer to him, and you can't stop the tears. You're crying for all you've suffered, for all you've endured, and for what's sure to happen because you're in Zoro's arms, and there’s no way your stalker is going to let you get away with this. 

But just for a bit, just a little bit, you need to revel in him. 

“Then let's talk inside.” Zoro whispers your name, trying to coax you away from him long enough to enter and close the door, but you still cling to him, as if letting go means going back to the nightmare you've been living in. “Hey, I just want to close the door, okay? I'm not leaving.”

He's not leaving? 

You want to tell him to go, that he can't stay with you, that you'll only bring him suffering. Who knows what your stalker is capable of? You can't risk Zoro, you just can't! Before you can stop it, images of Lucci’s face without eyes and the clerk without hands swim in your vision, and you wince. 

But you don't protest. 

You only cling harder. 

Zoro sighs and drags you inside the house, never letting go of you. After closing the door he guides you to the couch probably meaning to sit next to you, but you hold him so tight that he pulls you to his lap. Your legs to the side and arms still wrapped tightly around him. You sense as he lays a soft kiss on the top of your head and then leans his chin where his lips had been. Zoro's hand still runs soothing circles on your back and it's unlikely your sobs are going to slow down anytime soon. 

“You're all right, Trouble. I'm here. I'll never let anything happen to you.”

You're so exhausted and drained that you barely realise you're falling asleep. Until darkness claims you. 

-*-

To say that Zoro's mad is an understatement. He's more than mad, he's furious. 

At first, he was mad at you. For a lot of things, actually. Avoiding him, ghosting him, pretending that what you had - or what was starting to develop - meant nothing to you. But mostly, he was mad at the way you kept ignoring all his calls and texts. That was driving him insane. 

But now… 

Now, he's fucking seething. 

He's going to find out what - or who - has left you in this state, and he's going to make it right. Because there's no way you look like this just because you're tired or because you miss your dad. 

Fucking bullshit. 

You look like a ghost. A starving ghost at that. 

A heavy sigh parts his lips as he runs a hand down his face. One fucking thing at a time. You need to eat. 

After you rest. 

Your breathing evens out after a while, but the way you're clinging to him makes him wait a while longer before moving you. He makes sure you're comfortable on the couch before putting a blanket over you. 

His chest aches at the way your breath hitches as you inhale. Your brows furrow, and your fingers now grasp the blanket instead of his shirt. 

He's seen enough shit in his profession to realise the telltale signs. And it's pretty fucking clear that you're scared of something. 

He's going to find out what. 

As he turns to go to the kitchen and prepare some food for you - even if he has to force-feed you - his eye falls on the garish bouquet of fresh roses on the table. 

“Fuck.” 

Didn't you say the gifts had stopped? He remembers that clearly. Could the flowers be from someone else? 

Zoro approaches and inspects the roses with an analytical eye. They're ordinary. And there's no card. 

No fucking clue. 

Mumbling another string of curses, Zoro rummages around your cabinets, and the action only makes him madder. The bread is stale and mouldy, the vegetables and fruit are withered, and the opened milk in the fridge has gone sour. It looks like you haven’t gone shopping or had a decent meal in days.

Zoro finds an unopened bottle of milk that’s still good and some cereal, so that will have to do for now. He’ll force it down your throat when you wake up, even if you protest. One quick look around the house makes him realise you have all the windows and doors bolted and the curtains drawn. 

He wouldn't find that suspicious any other time, after all, you’re all alone inside a big house. But considering you’re scared witless, this looks mighty suspicious. 

He returns to the living room, giving the bouquet of roses the stink-eye, and sits on the couch next to you. His keen eye not missing the way you shiver slightly, even though he’s covered you with a blanket, or the way your lower lip trembles with each breath. 

Then, his eye falls on the small end table, where your phone rests.

Zoro’s hand twitches, and he lets out a low grunt. That damn phone. You didn’t part with it at Robin’s, and every time you looked at it, you only got more distressed. Should he…?

No, he can’t. It’s your privacy, he can’t intrude. All he can do is be there for you and–

“Fuck it.” Zoro’s hand reaches for the phone as a small whimper escapes your lips. You can be mad at him all you want later. For now, he needs to understand what the hell is making you look like a ghost of yourself. And especially what’s making you push him away.

He takes a deep breath and swipes the screen.

It’s locked. 

Fuck.

Maybe this is a sign that he shouldn’t be doing this? Except, he believes in signs as much as he believes in coincidences. 

He doesn’t.

So, with slow movements, Zoro grabs your hand and places your index finger over the phone. The breath he releases when the phone unlocks is slow and relieved. It feels like he’s about to figure out the reason you’re acting so weird. 

And everything you’re hiding from him. 

His eyes scan up and down as he searches for any suspicious texts. Sure enough, there are his texts and missed calls. You didn’t even read them.

And then…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

What the fuck?

-*-

You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the morning, and feel strangely well-rested. It doesn’t take you long to understand why. What hits you first is his strong scent, something you’ve come to associate with safety, and then you realise you’re hugging him.

“Morning, Trouble.” Zoro’s voice is husky, he was probably sleeping too. You blush involuntarily, realising this is what he sounds like in the morning and not minding one bit the thought of waking to this sound every day for the rest of your life.

“Hi. You stayed…”

“Of course I did. Sleep well?” 

Yeah you did. You slept like you haven’t in what feels like forever. The stalker threat is still there, you feel it taunting you in the back of your mind, like an ever-growing presence, but Zoro’s mere presence manages to keep it at bay. 

“I did.”

“Good.” He’s still holding you tight, and you don't make any move to let go either. “I was sleeping on the other couch, when you started to whimper and tremble. I didn’t want you to wake up because it looked like you needed the rest, and you seemed to calm down when I touched you, so…”

He leaves the rest unsaid, and you hold him tighter. God, you really needed him. 

After a while of silence, Zoro starts to shift, so you sit up as well, stretching. 

“You don’t have anything to eat, Trouble. Why haven’t you gone grocery shopping?”

Shit. “Oh, I’ve been postponing it. There’s so much to do around the farm.” Lies, lies, lies. “And there are always eggs from the chickens, I’ll never starve.”

“The food you have has gone bad, or nearly bad. Have you been eating?” Zoro’s eye pierces yours and you pass a hand through your hair to smooth your “bed hair”, as well as to try and deflect his inquiry. 

“I ate a lot of takeout this week. Didn’t really feel like cooking, I’ve just been so tired.” It’s mostly true…

“You told me the gifts stopped.”

Fuck.

“What is this, Zoro? Am I under questioning? Should you take me to the station for this?” You get up with a huff, knowing he’s inching towards the truth fast. 

“I don’t know, should I?” He also gets up, his face turning into a frown. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“Yes, I have!”

“You’re scared shitless.”

Your hands shoot to your hips, and you stamp your feet. “I am–”

“Stop deflecting! Don’t lie to me, damn it! I thought we were friends!” Zoro sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Don’t shut me out.” 

He stares intently at you, his hand reaching to touch you, and you sigh. Of course, he knows something is up. Averting his gaze, you turn and start walking away because you know that if you stay, you’ll tell him everything. And you can’t do that. You already risked a lot just by letting him spend the night. “I really need to use the bathroom now. We’ll talk later.”

He doesn’t stop you, but you still hear his muffled imprecations, and even though you don’t look him in the eye as you grab your phone, you sense him tracing your every move. 

-*-

“Eat.” You took a while in the bathroom, and even though you entered looking more like yourself, you now look scared and pale again. The texts flooded your phone as soon as you closed the bathroom door.

Unknown: Naughty, naughty, naughty. The whole night with the cop? After I warned you? Unknown: Oh, Kitten, you have no idea how absolutely mad I am right now. His arms around what is mine?  Unknown: I told you I didn’t want to hurt the cop, but I don’t think I have another choice now. Unknown: I thought you were going to behave. You’ll need to be punished. 

It kept buzzing, but you didn’t dare to read any more. The more you read his threats, the more scared you would look. And you can’t let Zoro know what’s going on. Not when his safety is at stake.

“I’m not hungry.” You say as you shove the cereal bowl Zoro placed in front of you as soon as you left the bathroom. 

“Eat, Trouble, or I swear I will force it down your throat.” He growls as his hand bangs the table. When you flinch slightly, he sighs and leans back in his chair. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hard on you. It’s just…”

Zoro gets up from the seat in front of you, rounds the table, and kneels next to you, touching your legs so you turn to him. As you look at his expression, you feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces. He seems so lost.

“I can’t do this anymore. I see you struggling, I can see you’re scared! You’re not yourself. And the fact that you don’t let me in… Trouble…” He places both hands on your legs, his face inches from yours, and you don’t want to pull back. “I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod slowly. It would be so easy to tell him everything. He’s right, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know that. “But what about you?” Your voice sounds small, almost as if you speak in a low volume your stalker won’t be able to listen.

“What about me?” Your hands raise on their own as you cup his face, your thumb tracing lazy patterns on his cheeks as your heart thumps incessantly against your chest. 

“Who’ll protect you, Zo?”

Zoro’s eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head slightly, as if struggling to understand your question. Then he smirks, that mischievous smirk that makes your stomach flutter, and places his hands on top of yours, squeezing tight. 

“I don’t need protection, Trouble.”

How you want to believe him. It would be so simple: someone’s stalking me; I’m being watched; I’m scared.

Any of those sentences could work. Zoro would go full protective mode and never leave you alone. You can do this. You can.

He’s right. He’s strong, and he’s a cop. He doesn’t need protection. He’s Roronoa Zoro.

“I–” But, obviously, it can’t be this simple. As soon as you open your mouth, your phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes again. 

You know it’s him. So you instantly tremble and before you get the chance to grab the phone, Zoro’s hand shoots to your pocket and he fishes it out. Your knees weaken as you gasp.

He’s going to find out everything.

Zoro’s eye falls on the screen of the buzzing phone, and his eyebrow raises again.

Then he sighs and passes you the phone. “Your dad is calling. You should pick it up.”

Zoro gets up as you pick up the phone, not exactly knowing if you should feel relieved, or upset that it wasn’t your stalker. “Hey, Dad!” You try to sound cheerful, but it’s so, so hard. Especially when Zoro’s leaning against the kitchen counter, legs and arms crossed and a scowl on his lips, like he was expecting to see something else on your phone.

“Hi, Bug! What's up?”

You chuckle slightly. “What do you mean? You called. What’s the news?” God, you miss your father.

“I called? No! You called me, Bug.” He chuckles as if you’re spewing nonsense. You’re about to contest because you were in the middle of an important conversation when he called, but then you bite your tongue as your eyes widen in realisation. 

This was the stalker’s doing.

Somehow he orchestrated this call just to interrupt your moment with Zoro. This realisation makes your blood turn cold. What else is he manipulating in your life?

What else can he do?

“When are you coming home, Dad?” You can’t disguise the anxiousness in your voice, and Zoro immediately picks it up. He straightens and starts walking towards you again. 

“Oh, I’m not sure, Bug. I had the trip arranged for Monday, but the business is still going really well! I’m not sure how this is happening, but the fair is already over, and we’re still having meetings with buyers!” 

Is this being orchestrated, too? Just to keep Shanks away? Just so you’re alone?

Your heart thumps harder and harder against your chest as the feeling of being trapped returns tenfold. 

“That’s good.” Your voice is small and timid. All you want to do is tell your dad to rush home. You need this nightmare to be over. But then again, is Shanks being home really going to stop whatever the stalker has planned for you?

You highly doubt it. It will probably just endanger your dad. 

“Got to go, honey. Thank you for calling, I’ll let you know when I’ll be heading home soon, okay?” You mumble in agreement. You didn’t call. And you doubt he’s going to come home any time soon. 

You finish the call, and though Zoro looks like he has a lot more to say, he just tells you to eat, and this time you do. This call was a veiled warning. No talking to Zoro about the stalker. 

No one is safe.

-*-

Zoro doesn’t leave, but you shut down again. He helps you with the chores, and you can see him struggling to hold his tongue back. It’s like he decided to change his approach from outright interrogating you to giving you time and space so you can talk to him when you feel ready to.

Though you know Zoro is not a patient man, so who knows how long this is going to last.

Besides, even though you wish for nothing more than to tell him all that’s going on, are you willing to risk it? With not only Zoro’s safety on the line but clearly your dad’s too?

Your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket, and it takes a bathroom break for you to read the disturbing texts.

Unknown: Don’t you think he��s overstaying his welcome? Unknown: Kitten, things will go very, very wrong if you keep indulging him. Unknown: Tell him to go home, or I’ll make him go. And you won’t like it.  Unknown: I’m losing patience with you. Don’t test me. You KNOW what I’m capable of.

“Zoro.” You’ve finished your morning chores, and Zoro is washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Your heart feels heavy, and you don’t want to do this. “You can go now. I’m going to rest a bit more, maybe do some reading…”

“I’m not leaving.” He simply states. “Nami’s birthday party is later, or have you forgotten? What’s the point in leaving when we’ll just have to meet later? I’ll stick around and help.” He scoffs as he cleans his hands on the dish towel. “I really want to see what excuse you’re going to use next instead of the ‘I’m tired’ one, since I’ve been helping you all day.”

Shit. He really wants to get to the bottom of this, doesn’t he?

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“Nami’s birthday party! Damn it.” It’s a good thing you had already ordered Nami’s gift about a month ago because you didn’t even remember the party was today. Heck, you still haven’t said anything to her, maybe you should call? “We’ll meet there, Zo. There’s no need to stay here.”

“You’re pushing me away again.” He says bluntly, an annoyed expression on his face, and takes a step towards you as if to prove his point. 

You take a step back, shaking your head and hitting the kitchen chair as you do so. With a curse, you keep shaking your head.

Bzzzz. 

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.” Zoro steps forward again, closing the distance. “I’ve tried asking, I’ve tried to give you time. I’m all out of options, Trouble. I thought you trusted me. What’s going on?” Though his voice is gruff and rough, you can perceive the worry hidden underneath. 

You shake your head again, your steps taking you away from him until you hit the counter and stop. “Nothing’s going on. I keep telling you that.”

“Bullshit.” Another step and he’s right in front of you. “Let me in.” He sounds softer now, and you almost crumble. Your fingers twitch as you struggle to keep your hands pressed against your thighs, when all you want to do is hug him. 

“Zo…”

“Just tell me! Whatever it is, I can help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Your hand reaches for your pocket instinctively, but this time, it’s not your phone that’s buzzing.

“Fuck!” Zoro sighs and steps back, reaching for his phone. His brow arches when he sees the caller ID, and he picks up the call. “Cap?”

You can hear the gravelly voice of Captain Mihawk on the other side of the line, but you can’t make out the words he’s saying. 

“A bomb threat? What?” Zoro tenses, his muscles clenching as his eye searches yours, and you can see him struggling. “Yes, I’m busy, damn it.” He sighs again, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “I’m on my way.”

Then, he turns off the call. “Grab a bag, you’re coming with me.”

A gasp stays lodged in your throat. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. “What?”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone when you’re clearly scared, even though you don’t want to tell me what it is. You can stay in the car, or I’ll drop you at Nami’s. Come on.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. “No.”

Zoro’s face turns away from his cell phone just to stare into your eyes. “Trouble?”

“I’m fine.” You’re not. But you don’t think the bomb threat is a coincidence, and you’re scared that if Zoro takes you away from this house, he will hurt him. And you can’t have that.

“It was not a question. Let’s go.” Although his tone brooks no argument, you can’t heed him. 

“Zoro, you can’t tell me what to do.” Your voice nearly trembles, and you will all your power to stay strong. “We’ll meet later.”

Zoro’s phone buzzes again and he curses at whatever he reads on the screen. “Trouble, come on.” He extends his hand your way and you cross your arms, because all you want to do is take it and never let go. But your phone buzzes once more. 

“We’ll meet later.” You’re supposed to sound assertive, but you just sound afraid.

Zoro takes another step forward, his hand trembling slightly in the air as he waits for you to accept it. He looks at you in disbelief, almost trying to break your will with his look alone.

And damn it, if it isn’t working.

Just take his hand, ask for his help… it would be so easy. Let go…

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

“What?” Zoro answers his phone with an angry growl, and this time you can make out the words Captain Mihawk utters, as they are also angry ones.

“Get your ass in the car and onto the site, Officer Roronoa, now. This is your first and last,verbal warning.”

Zoro turns off the phone as his jaw clenches and unclenches. He strides into the living room, grabbing his jacket and car keys, and then he strides back to you again. “You get dressed and go to Nami. I don’t want you all alone, okay?”

You nod, not wanting to commit verbally to something you already know you’re not going to follow. 

“Trouble…” He sounds so exasperated that your heart constricts further, so you take a step forward, grasping his hand in yours and holding his gaze, completely ignoring the warnings from the buzzing of your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, Zo. We’ll meet later.”

Zoro groans as his phone starts to buzz again, then, without any kind of warning, his hand grips your nape, fingers tangling with strands of your hair, and he pulls you into an unexpected kiss. 

It’s sudden, desperate, and all-consuming. He grunts and you groan, and for a few seconds all you can think about is how perfect his mouth fits against yours.

And then it’s over. 

“Later then.” He says with a raspy voice as he rushes out the door. You’re still feeling light-headed from the abrupt kiss when another buzz rattles your nerves. 

Unknown: If you thought I was mad before, Kitten, you have no idea how furious I am right now. Unknown: You WILL be punished.

-*-

You spend most of the day in a haze of terror. You know it was him who made that bomb threat. So, if he did that, what is he really capable of? He hurt Lucci and the clerk boy, and they meant nothing. What will he do to Zoro?

You don’t even consider your punishment to be anything other than that. That’s where he’ll hurt you most: through Zoro, and you bet he knows it.

After you received the text saying you’d be punished, your phone stayed eerily silent again. 

You take that opportunity to change phones for an older one you still keep around. It’s just an older version, slower, but it still works perfectly.

Even if it only stops the creepy texts, it’s already something. 

You need to find a way to stop him. And the more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that you need Zoro’s help. You can’t keep pushing him away. Maybe, if Zoro tells Captain Mihawk of what’s going on, he’ll be safe. 

There’s nothing safer than police protection, right?

So, you’ve made up your mind. You will say something to Zoro, even if it's in writing. You’re done cowering in fear, it’s time to stand up.

-*-

You go to Nami’s early, and you think that changing phones is working because you left the house and no text came through. Your chest feels lighter, and you can even breathe better. Zoro texted a while ago to check in on you, saying he’s fine, but the case is a mess and that he’ll explain later. 

You can’t help but feel like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and you’ll finally be free. You just know it. 

“You look better, sweetie!” Nami exclaims after a while. You’ve been smiling, joking, trying to be cheery. It’s her birthday, and you don’t want to be a bummer. The unease in your stomach is still making you queasy, but your terror will soon be over. You know it.

“Zoro kissed me.” You blurt out with a small chuckle, wanting to share a piece of happiness with your friend, almost as if it were meant to restore a sense of normalcy. Then, you sigh and tremble slightly. The stalker texts are still haunting you, even though you decided to fight him. 

“Finally!” Nami exclaims with a laugh. “The pining was getting pathetic.” She hugs you and pats your head. “I’m happy for both of you, I really am!”

It takes another hour before Vivi meets you both at Nami’s house, and you all leave for the restaurant to meet your friends. Then, it takes another fifteen minutes of lively chat inside the car before you reach the location. 

It’s not until you set foot in the restaurant that your phone buzzes. 

You reach for it with a small smile on your lips, thinking it’s Zoro. 

It’s not.

Unknown: You think you can get rid of me just by changing phones, Kitten? You’re really going all out, aren’t you? Playing with your fate… with the cop’s fate… Unknown: It’s okay, Princess. You’ll learn. I’ll make sure of it.  Unknown: You’ll soon find out where you stand and what you get from defying me.

-*-

Zoro calls Nami, saying he won’t make it to dinner, but he’ll meet you all at the club. When she asks if everything’s alright, he assures her it is. They just got delayed. So, after making sure he’s fine, Nami says he’ll have to cover the drinks tab at the bar to make up for missing dinner. 

Zoro ends the call without answering, and the smile that curves your lips is a bit strained now. The longer Zoro’s away from you, the more your resolve falters. You need him near you, that’s the only way for you to be strong. 

You spend dinner in a dichotomy of feelings. You either feel happy and excited to be with your friends or uneasy and stressed because Zoro is still away, and the stalker’s threats loom over your head. 

Even though you haven’t received any more texts after the last one, you can’t help the ominous feeling that he’s letting you enjoy a night of normalcy before he follows through with his threats.

When you all reach the club, your anxiety is through the roof.

The club is packed full, and music reverberates around you so loudly that it makes your chest thump and your ears ring. But Nami seems happy, and it’s her night. The group has a VIP table reserved for Nami’s party because Nami knows everyone, but you doubt the crew will spend much time there. The girls flock to the dance floor, Sanji follows with a silly grin and you offer to go get drinks from the bar for the remaining friends.

Zoro texted ten minutes ago, saying he’s on his way, and you’ve been rehearsing how you’re going to tell him. The music is so loud in here that you’re pretty sure you can talk to him without anyone hearing you. 

This is it. The nightmare is ending. You can wait a few more minutes. You’ve got this.

Reaching the bar with a small smile, you flag the bartender and order an array of drinks for you and your friends. The bar is completely packed, and the music is louder than at the booth you’re all in.

Still, you sense it.

It’s a prickle on your nape. A feeling of being watched creeps over you, and the little hairs on your neck stand up.

You’re still inhaling sharply, your senses on high alert, when you feel him.

He presses against your back, squeezing your front against the counter. His massive form dwarfs your figure as his arm wraps around your own, trapping it against your waist. A huge hand holds your wrist with such force that the bracelet you’re wearing bites into your skin, making you whimper. 

You want to scream, but his other hand wraps around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, he doesn’t need to. The simple gesture is enough to exert his power over you and silence your voice. 

He’s massive. Bulky. Strong.

His hand grips your wrist tighter, and you close your eyes, already feeling tears pricking them. Then, his lips hover over your exposed neck, and he breathes against your ear. A low growl makes his chest vibrate against your back and you stifle a sob.

“Hmm… Kitten. You’ve been such a bad girl.” His coarse goatee hairs rasp your skin, as his voice rings low and velvety smooth. Somehow, it sounds oddly familiar, though you can’t quite place it. 

Your limbs lock as your breath leaves your lungs in heavy gasps. Terror has you frozen in place. You can’t scream, can’t flag anyone to help you. You’re completely at his mercy.

“And you know what happens to bad girls?” His hand grips your wrist tighter, and you know it will bruise. “They get punished.”

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

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[naffeclipse]

Link

O' Medusa

Chapter 3: Linen and Brass

Gorgon!Eclipse x Reader

At last, you begin your endeavors to serve the gorgon by cleaning the neglected temple. You are not free from his disapproval as conflict arises from how you are to live among him without being turned to stone. A problem arrives in the means by which you two are to endure a winter without starving.

Word Count: ~11,100 Warnings: Injury, fear, and anxiety.

How are we settling into our new lives with Eclipse? Great? Great. I've been having a blast focusing on the nitty gritty, both literally and figuratively! This chapter was also a bit late as school was kicking my trash, but I'm hopeful I can keep regularly updating.

[leighsartworks216]

Darlin' I'm Right Here

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote this at like 3am last night and because I wrote this at 3am last night and then went down a rabbit hole of rereading fanfics, I did not get enough sleep to do any work

Anyway I just think it would be neat if Sylus could carry me around please and thank you

Title from "Butterfly's Repose" by Zabawa

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, caretaking, kissing, cuddling, undressing (and redressing), casual intimacy, established relationship, crying

Word Count: 1,659

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third Love and Deepspace Masterlists

AO3

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Sylus looks over as the door opens and quietly shuts again. He watches you, a silent observer, as you drop your stuff to the floor and push it aside with your foot. Your movements are sluggish as you pull off your winter coat and the sweatshirt underneath. A low sigh passes your lips as you work at undoing the knots in your boot laces - and that's when he comes over.

You see his shadow, feel his presence, and stand up straight once more. He tilts his head, brow furrowed slightly; you look so tired, so worn out, and moisture is collecting on your lower eyelids. Your pitiful sniff only confirms his suspicions.

He doesn't say anything as he kneels down by your feet. He unties the knots you struggled with moments ago, undoes the laces enough for your feet to slip out easily. You use his shoulder as support when he lifts one foot and slips your boot off, then the other. Both are set aside in a tray where they can continue drying off without dripping melted snow on the wood floors.

You watch him as though in a daze. He stands and your eyes follow, lacking their usual vibrancy and life. They only shine now because of the tears you hold back.

He bends down, gently guiding your arms around his neck. "Hold on, kitten," he orders softly. Your hands lock together behind his head. Your face finds its place tucked in his shoulder, tightly so as to block out the rest of the world around you. His hands hold the back of your thighs as he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He feels your breaths just as you feel his. Hears each shuddering inhale and shaky exhale beside his ear. He tilts his head to the side to rest upon yours, rubbing his cheek against your head affectionately. He hopes it really was just a bad day that is upsetting you so much. If he hears even a hint of a whisper that someone said or did something to his darling lover, he won't hesitate to deal with it, permanently.

Each step is a gentle sway, a soothing rocking. You feel like a child clinging to their parent, pretending to be asleep as they carry you to bed. You feel small, but not in a bad way. Small, yet protected. Secure. You cling a little tighter to him and he adjusts your hips higher against him to keep you there.

The villa you've practically claimed as a home is smaller than his usual estates, though still quite large considering only two people live here at any one time. It's much larger than your old apartment. At least here he can actually move around the kitchen comfortably and shower without needing to duck under the spray of the shower head.

He carries you through the familiar floor plan to your bedroom, and then further into the ensuite bathroom. He's immensely careful when he sets you down at last on the countertop beside the sink. Though, he doesn't pull away. Doesn't force you to, either. Instead, he holds your hip and massages at your lower back, giving you the time you need. There's no rush. There's never a rush with him.

With a small inhale to give you strength, you finally pull away. Tears make tracks down your cheeks. A wet spot stains his shirt. He brushes away the tears on one cheek, and kisses them away on the other.

"Do you want to take a shower, sweetie?" he asks. You shake your head. He kisses your cheek again warmly.

Instead of a shower, he reaches into a cabinet and pulls down a washcloth. One handed, he turns on the warm water and holds his fingers under the tap as he waits for it to get to the perfect temperature. The cloth's fabric turns dark once he holds it under the water, soaked through. He squeezes out the excess and turns off the tap, before brushing it gently over your cheeks.

You close your eyes and give in to his tender care. With no sound aside from a sniffle here and there, Sylus wipes away the sticky tear tracks. He soothes the cloth under your eyes, easing out the tension and tiredness with its warmth. You shiver involuntarily when the cloth touches your neck, lightly wetting your throat with enough pressure to avoid tickling you.

Once he's satisfied with his work, he sets the cloth on the side of the sink. His hands, warm and lightly damp, find your hips, then your thighs, wordlessly warning you just before he lifts you up once more.

He doesn't carry you far, just into the bedroom. He rests you at the end of the bed, your legs hanging off to the floor while the rest of your body is laid back against the plush bedding. He kisses your forehead as he gently coaxes your arms from around his neck. "Wait here."

You crack your eyes open to watch as he goes to your dresser. With familiarity, he pulls out a few things, chief among them two types of pants and two types of shirts. He carries them over and sets them on either side of you on the bed. He holds up the pants first.

"Which one?" In one hand is a pair of long pajama pants. In the other, a pair of shorts. You point lazily at one, and he sets them down.

Kneeling down by your feet once more, he removes your socks and your pants. Normally, on any other day, there would be a heat in his gaze. A dripping, dark lust in his eyes as they roam your legs up to your underwear. Now, there's not even a hint of such a thing. He looks at your legs in the same way he looks at his guns as he maintains them, with an undeniable presence of care and dedication, and the warmth of wanting to take care of you in the best ways he knows how. He always claims to be bad at comforting people, yet he finds the perfect ways to tend to you every time.

He slips the pants you chose on you, pulling them up along your legs. You don't even have to lift your hips up - he does so for you with a large hand under your lower back.

"Do you want your fuzzy socks?" He smiles when you nod. You're always so endearing to him. You've perfectly curled within his heart, laying claim to it as your own. Its beats change with your emotions and actions. Right now, it beats softly, but steadily, as your eyes follow him back to the dresser to retrieve a pair of your fuzzy socks and then watch as he slips them onto your feet. It will beat louder tomorrow, he’ll make sure of it.

He stands and lifts up the shirts. One is a baggy t-shirt you "stole" from him a while ago. ("Stole" because Sylus is not a man who often wears t-shirts. This particular shirt is one you bought for him and commanded him to wear for a couple of days leading up to your visit, whereupon you claimed it for yourself.) The other is a tank top. You choose which one you'd rather wear tonight and he sets them aside.

He playfully pulls you into a sit, tangling his fingers with yours and tugging you up to him. He leans down to kiss your head. Warm fingers brush your skin as he removes your shirt from today. It winds up in a pile with your pants and socks.

The shirt you chose is soon pulled over your head. Your arms are guided through just the same. He leans down to make sure it settles comfortably around your body, and you use the opportunity to draw your fingers lightly under his chin. All his focus is on you immediately.

He is completely pliant under your touch. You could do anything - have him do anything. He is at your whim.

With the barest pressure, you draw him in, meeting his lips in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips are always so soft and plush. They don't seek for more than you give, only taking what you decide to offer, without a hint of a complaint. When your fingers fall from his skin, he lightly pulls away, heavy-lidded eyes peeking open to search your face for answers, to know what you want. One more kiss, and one more, before you're satisfied. He pulls away.

Your dirty clothes are dropped into the hamper. The clothes you didn't choose are left on top of your dresser to be put away later. He goes to place you in bed properly, but is stopped by your slight frown and the flicker of your eyes over his clothes. He grins. He can feel your eyes on him as he changes his own clothes, trading them in for some sweatpants that rest low on his hips and a tank top that shows off his arms. You're smiling contentedly when he approaches this time.

He lifts you up, but does not set you down again. Instead, he slips into bed with you in his arms, holding you close as he ensures you're comfortable. Not that you complain; you keep him trapped there with the way your legs hug him and with your head tucked under his chin. He rubs up and down your back with one hand. The other holds your hand over his heart.

The day that upset you feels lightyears away as your body relaxes against Sylus's. The cold and snow outside don't exist as he kisses your head and stops rubbing your back in favor of massaging the back of your neck. No concerns for tomorrow. No worries about what will come next. Just the gentle coaxing of his breaths, luring you into a much needed nap.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one

[boybandbaby]

I Know That I Wasn't Right (Spencer Reid x Reader)

word count: 859

warnings/tags: light angst (disagreement, mean comment towards Spencer, Spencer rejecting reader's kisses), fluff, as always please let me know if i missed anything

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You and Spencer had gotten into a small disagreement this morning. It was honestly too early and your irritation stemmed from that, causing you to snap at him. What was supposed to be a fun day of running errands together, quickly became a morning of silence.

As you ate your breakfast, Spencer read a book to avoid speaking or looking at you. He was upset with you over a comment you made.

"Babe, wake up!" He shook your shoulder. "The book store opens at 6am."

"The store doesn't open until 8am, go back to bed." You grumble.

"Y/n, I already checked, it's 6am. Please get up." He whines.

"I literally checked last night, it's 8am. Just because you're a genius doesn't mean you know everything." You say, unfiltered. At the time, you said it out of annoyance not thinking how it would hurt him.

While you were irritated with his behavior, you still wanted him to get the book he wanted and you needed groceries. "Spence, I'm going to get ready. We'll leave in 20 minutes?" You offer, setting your bowl in the sink.

He doesn't respond, closing his book and going to stand. "Spencer…" You say softly, brushing his hair back and going to kiss his cheek. Spencer's body goes rigid when your lips meet his cheek. He gently turns away and pretends he's busy, picking up his cold toast.

You sigh and head to the bathroom. You're ready in 20 minutes, as promised. Spencer takes longer as he's decided not to get ready beside you like normal. While you're scrolling through your phone, slouched on the couch, he appears in a turtleneck.

"Spencer, why are you wearing a turtleneck? It's supposed to be hot today." You point out.

He continues to ignore you as he slips on his shoes. "Baby, please talk to me." You pout, hoping he'll give in if you give him puppy eyes. You jog the short distance over to him and wrap your arms around his waist. "Spencer, I'm sorry I was rude to you this morning." You lean up to kiss his jaw. Spencer stands on his tippy toes to try and get away from you.

You sigh and take a step back. This is the second time he's attempted to reject a kiss from you and you're starting to get upset. "You know what? I think I'll stay home, have fun at the book store." You kick off your shoes and make your way to the room.

Spencer stands by the door, shoulders slumped. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Even if your earlier comment hurt him, he really wasn't trying to get back at you for it. Plus, he loves running errands with you. He has a debate on whether or not he should seek you out or go to the store by himself. He thinks that would hurt you a little bit more and he doesn't want to be cruel.

He unties his laces and places the shoes neatly against the wall, fixing your previously kicked off shoes to line up with his. "Baby, I'm sorry."

He sees that you've already changed back into your pajamas and you're curled into the bed. He walks over to your side of the bed and scoots himself onto the edge. His hand rubs your hip. "Look, the reason I rejected your kisses and why I'm wearing a turtleneck is because whenever we have a fight and it's your fault, you always kiss my neck and I give in instantly."

He hears you laugh, "it's never my fault."

"Okay, sure, you're right." He agrees, even though you both know it's not the truth. "I was really hurt by your comment this morning and I wanted to make you sweat a little bit."

"So, you wore a turtleneck so I wouldn't have access to your neck?"

"Yes! But then you find another body part to kiss and I start to melt." He smiles as you sit up, his hand sliding from your hip to your ankle. He gives your ankle a squeeze. "I'm sorry I was being mean."

"No, no." You reach out to him, grabbing his empty hand. "You're right to be mad and upset with me. What I said was really mean. You're a genius and I love that about you."

"But you're right too and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not always right. I am most of the time though." He grins.

"Okay, brag." You roll your eyes. "Will you please take that stupid turtleneck off so I can give you apology neck kisses?"

"Fine, but only because it's itchy." He smiles. You spend the next few minutes peppering his neck and face with kisses. He's giggling and squirming as you trap him under you.

Shortly after, you get redressed and head out for the day. You're walking hand in hand towards the book store when he pulls the handle. The door doesn't budge. You both look at each other and search the store front for the hours of operation. Saturday: 10am to 8pm.

"Huh, apparently we were both wrong." You shrug.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 13]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the scarf around your neck. It was another day of going to Hongjoong's place to do your gardening duties. Also, it was the first time seeing him after you cried in his arms at his mother's grave.

"Gosh, can you be any more embarrassing?" You asked your reflection with a click of your tongue. With a soft sigh, you went to gather your stuff.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You ran to open the door, thinking it was the chauffeur that was usually sent to pick you.

"Oh! Hongjoong! I was not expecting you." You blinked as he stood at your door.

"I was in the area for a meeting and thought I could come pick you instead. I hope you don't mind, the chauffeur told me what floor you live on." Hongjoong smiled, tucking his phone back into his coat.

"Not at all. I'm about done, please come in. Don't mind the mess." You said, letting him step in.

"Thanks. Take your time." He bowed his head and entered behind you, removing his shoes in the entrance way.

"I have to bring these down, it shouldn't be too heavy." You gestured before running back into your bedroom to get your socks and handphone. Hongjoong looked around the place, contrary to what you said, there was no mess at all. It was a cozy, little apartment, simple but neat.

"That should be everything... Would you like a drink? Sorry I didn't offer you one when you came in." You chuckled, putting your tools together into a tote bag.

"No worries, I'm good. I had a coffee on the way here." He smiled from his seat on your couch.

"We can go now." You said to him.

"Sure, let me help." He took one of the bags that had fertiliser in it, leaving you to carry the light stuff. Your heart warmed at the sight of the Porsche convertible, he must have brought it for you.

"If the things can't fit in the boot, I'll have them on my lap." You told him as he loaded the stuff in.

"We should be fine. It'll be uncomfortable to have things on your lap." Hongjoong said as he arranged the stuff to make space.

"There." He placed the last bag in and closed the boot. After opening the door for you to enter the passenger seat, he closed the door and ran over to the driver's side.

Before moving out of the parking space, Hongjoong put the hood down then started to drive. It wasn't as awkward anymore but you did still feel embarrassed after what happened last time. He saw you cry and you cried all over his probably expensive suit.

"Is it too warm? Shall I put the hood back up?" Hongjoong asked, having noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face.

"No, not at all. You don't have to put the hood back up. I'm enjoying it, don't worry." You shook your head, continuing to look out instead of look in Hongjoong's direction.

"Welcome back, sir."

The intercom voice sounded as Hongjoong pulled up to the gates of the estate before they opened the let you in.

"Although it's such a long walk, the greenery along the driveway makes it such a nice sight." You commented. Hongjoong let out a hum of agreement.

The others must heard of Hongjoong's arrival at the gate because you saw a butler and two maids waiting there for your arrival.

"There are stuff in the back, take it and help her bring it to the back garden." Hongjoong said, coming out of the driver's seat.

"Yes, sir. Right away." They stepped forward to retrieve your items from the boot as Hongjoong opened the door for you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You were still not used to this, you've always done everything yourself without any butlers or maids.

"Right this way, ma'am." One of the maids bowed, leading you into the house. Hongjoong re-entered the car and drove off, presumably to park his car.

"(y/n)! You're here." Mingi grinned.

"Hi, Mingi." You bowed your head, still finding yourself acting formal with the others.

"Have you eaten?" He asked with a tilt of his head, munching on the slice of toast in his hand. You mentally chuckled, imagining all the crumbs he must be dropping onto the ground.

"I have. Thank you." You smiled.

"Good. If you get hungry, ask the chef to make you something, alright? Don't go hungry." He winked and went upstairs.

"Miss, shall we leave the things here?" The butler asked as you stepped out into the backyard.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you so much for your help." You bowed repeatedly to them. They smiled and bowed back to you before taking their leave. The first thing you did was take your notepad out to check your to-do list for today.

"Good morning, (y/n)." You turned to see Seonghwa standing there, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. He was dressed in a button up white shirt and wide pants, making him look casual but elegant.

"Good morning, Seonghwa. How has your morning been?" You asked with a smile.

"Busy as usual. Have you seen Hongjoong? I heard he went to pick you up after his meeting." He enquired.

"Yeah, he did. He dropped me off out front and I assumed that he was just going to park the car but I guess not?" You giggled as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

Another thing you learnt was that while Hongjoong kept everyone else in check, Seonghwa kept Hongjoong in check.

"Never mind him then. How has the garden been coming along?" He moved closer to look.

"Hopefully making progress. I managed to move the plants to where they need to be, in the proper soils without having to compete for nutrients. Today, it's laying fertiliser and all that." You explained.

"The plants are in good hands then." He chuckled and you nodded your head. Seonghwa's phone ringing pulled him away, the both of you bowed your heads to each other as he entered the house to answer the call. You let out a sigh of relief, still feeling slightly intimidated by him and his energy.

"Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?"

"Ah!" You yelped, jumping back and clutching onto your heart, as you came face to face with Jongho. He smiled cheekily at you before straightening up.

"You scared me, Jongho." You let out a sigh as you picked up the trowel that you dropped.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?" He raised an eyebrow, repeating his question.

"He's a little intimidating... His aura and everything. Like a critique that you want to try and impress...? I don't even know if that makes any sense." You tried your best to explain it to him.

"I get it, Seonghwa hyung has that effect on people." Jongho nodded.

"But you know, we're not that scary. We may seem like we're scary people but we're not." He added.

"I know, I'm slowly learning that." You giggled as you used the trowel to loosen up the packed soil around the plant roots. Jongho watched you take the fertiliser and add it to the soil, using your hands to manually pack it in so it wouldn't be too tight.

Jongho stood there, watching you. He has never met a girl that was willing to get down and have her hands in the dirt. It still amused and amazed him to watch you work.

"Is there anything else you need, Jongho?" You asked, realising he was looming over quietly.

"Nope. Just watching you work, it's rather fascinating and I'm learning something new when I do." He shrugged.

"It's just taking care of the plants. It is concerning that your previous gardeners never did these. But it's not surprising, considering all the mistakes I found." You mumbled the last part.

"You're funny, (y/n)."

"I just don't like that the plants suffer at the hands of someone who is literally paid to take care of them." You sighed.

"I get it, I get it. Don't worry, that guy is gone and we have you now." He smiled.

Although, when Jongho said 'gone', you assumed it meant that the previous gardener was fired. You didn't know that Jongho meant that the guy was no longer alive.

"Ah, Jongho ah. Stop disturbing her and let her work. You should be doing your own work too!" Seonghwa yelled from the glass doors, presumably having finished his phone call. Jongho scoffed, offended that Seonghwa would suggest he was disturbing you. You giggled at their banter, they were really close.

"Well, I'll see you later, (y/n)." Jongho did conceed. You waved as he entered the house to go back to work.

"Alright, what's next?" You stood up, dusting your hands. You went to retrieve the other bag of fertiliser to move to another garden patch. These fertilisers were all personally mixed together by you.

"Grow well." You wished the plant, hoping your custom mix of fertilisers would provide the plants with what they needed.

"Maybe one day, there'll be a compost area here for all the waste." You thought out loud.

"We should, there's enough space." You turned to see Hongjoong standing there with a small smile on his face. He had gotten rid of his jacket and was in a shirt and pants.

"Seonghwa came to look for you earlier. Playing hooky?" You teased.

"Just because I wasn't in my office, he thinks I was out skipping work." Hongjoong rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch." Hongjoong said. You straightened up, digging for your phone to check the time. Indeed, it was already a little after noon, you didn't think you spent such a long time doing this.

"Sure, I lost track of time. Didn't know I spent so much time doing just this." You gestured. Hongjoong waited for you before walking back to the house.

"I'll go wash my hands and freshen up." You excused yourself and went to the bathroom to wash your hands and face.

"Ah, (y/n)!" Yunho ran to into you as you were exiting the bathroom. You smiled and waved at him.

"Are all of you working from home today? I seem to be running into most of you and it's only lunch time." You chuckled. Yunho laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I never know where my brothers are." He admitted.

"I guess you all have different schedules that it'll be hard to keep track. Poor Seonghwa." You giggled.

"Nah, I bet hyung secretly likes to nag us. Him and Hongjoong hyung." Yunho joked, the both of you snickering. Hongjoong watched you and Yunho laugh as you headed over.

When did you two get so close?

"Today is a warm day, you should take more breaks in the shade and make sure you drink a lot of water." Yunho smiled kindly. You nodded and bowed your head. Of course, Yunho noticed that Hongjoong had been looking at your interaction the entire time. But he wanted to rile the captain up more.

"This way." Hongjoong said to you. You stepped into the dining room, it was your first time here since you started working in the estate. Or rather, this was the first meal you've had with them.

Usually, you sit in the living room or garden gazebo to eat. Honestly, it was really intimidating.

"Sit wherever you feel comfortable." Hongjoong gestured.

"Really? Looks like there are assigned seats..." You mumbled to yourself. But Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your back to guide you forward, the seat to the right of the head.

"I sit here, you can sit with me." Hongjoong said. The seat felt like it would be the seat that's occupied for sure.

"Come, (y/n). That's Seonghwa hyung's seat." Jongho entered the dining room, pulling you along.

"You lied!" You pointed accusingly at Hongjoong, who blinked.

"Hwa doesn't care, the others are just trying to make him scarier than he actually is." Hongjoong rolled his eyes. But you were not taking the chance, you moved to sit where ever Jongho and Yunho told you to, which was next to Jongho, opposite Yunho.

"Yeosang hyung sits here but he's out for a meeting so you're good." Jongho said as the butler pulled the chair out for you to sit. You quickly bowed to him and sat down.

"Who's scarier than he actually is?" On cue, Seonghwa walked in, typing away on his phone.

"It's nothing." Hongjoong sighed.

"It's only noon and you're already sighing." Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his best friend before taking his seat, which was the exact seat Hongjoong had offered you earlier.

"See? Told you." Jongho leaned over to whisper to you and you hummed with a soft giggle.

"Just get lunch." Hongjoong said to the butler, rubbing his forehead.

"Nice to see you here, (y/n)." Seonghwa finally noticed you and smiled at you. You returned the smile and nodded your head then the trays of food came in.

"Lunch is served." The maids and butlers said as they placed trays in front of you. Your eyes widened, this was how you imagined royalty was served their meals. The food was good, regular fare, but plated nicely and arranged on an individual tray. You have never been served like this before.

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asked.

"No, not at all." You forced a smile and picked up your chopsticks. Just then, Mingi came into the dining room, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Mingi. That's rude." Seonghwa scolded. Mingi rubbed his eyes, a clear sign that he had just woken up.

"Oh, (y/n). You're having lunch here today." Mingi acknowledged as he took his seat beside Yunho. You nodded and swallowed your food.

"Did you just nap since breakfast?" Yunho asked his best friend.

"Dude, I told you I didn't sleep last night so I have sleep to catch up on. I keep having issues sleeping." Mingi said, running his fingers through his messy hair as the butler put his tray down.

"You're too used to doing night stuff, that's why your body clock is having issues adjusting." Hongjoong pointed out.

"I should just be on night shift, I'm only doing Yeosang's work because he's busy taking over San's- Mmph!" Mingi's sentence was cut off as he crumpled over, wincing in pain. He turned his head to shoot Yunho a glare.

"Are you okay, Mingi?" You asked worriedly. Mingi met Yunho's eyes, who shifted in your direction.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hit my toe against the chair leg." Mingi lied as he began to eat. You didn't notice the sigh of relief Seonghwa and Hongjoong let out.

"If that's not enough food for you, you can always ask for seconds, alright? They always make extras for us." Jongho told you.

"This is more than enough for me. I might not even be able to finish this." You chuckled.

"Is the food to your liking?" Hongjoong asked.

"It's very good. Thank you." You smiled as continued to eat. If the food wasn't to your liking, Hongjoong would have asked the cook to make you something entirely differently.

"Seconds." Seonghwa raised his hand and Yunho did the same, the maid coming forward to get their plates for more food.

"Oh gosh, I'm so full. And I should probably get back to work. Thank you for the meal." You stood up and bowed to the boys at the table, hightailing it out of there before anyone could say anything else. The 5 just sat there, blinking, stunned before turning to their captain at the head of the table.

"(y/n), hold on. Is something wrong?" Hongjoong came out from the dining room right before you could go out the glass doors. You paused in your tracks and turned around.

"No, Hongjoong. Everything is fine." You fiddled with your fingers.

"Was it that awkward and uncomfortable?" He tilted his head. You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's not any of you... It's just... I'm supposed to be a worker too... Feels inappropriate to be sitting in that fancy dining, getting served like that." You winced.

"Oh, (y/n). There's no need for you to worry about that. You're not a worker-worker... You're my friend, it's different." He chuckled.

"I know, it just takes a while to get used to. I'm not familiar with any of this but don't worry!" You rubbed your arm.

"(y/n), if you're uncomfortable, just tell me. I know it can all be very intimidating. Don't feel forced to do anything." He smiled. The both of you walked out to the back garden together.

"No, I don't feel forced at all. And it's not just that..." You cleared your throat, trying to figure out how to find the words to tell him. Maybe you should just leave it. Telling Hongjoong your feelings might just make things more awkward between the two of you.

"Are you worried about what happened when we went to see my mum?" He asked in a soft voice.

"How... How did you..." Your eyes widened.

"I figured. (y/n), you know I don't care about stuff like that right? I'm not bothered and it doesn't change anything." Hongjoong smirked. You nodded slowly.

"Thanks." You murmured.

"Now come. I think it's finally time for me to give you a proper tour of the place." Hongjoong clapped his hands.

"Don't you have to work? Don't any of you have to work?" You threw your head back with a groan. Hongjoong just laughed and gestured for you to go back into the house for the tour.

"Hang on." You paused and he nodded.

"Take your time." He watched you fiddle with one of the bags you had brought and retrieved what looked like a small white linen bag.

"Mingi! Luckily you're still here. I just remembered that I had this in my bag of gardening stuff. Here you go." You handed the taller the small white bag just as he was leaving the dining room. Both him and Hongjoong looked confused but Mingi lifted the white bag to take a sniff of it.

"It smells good. What is it?" He blinked.

"Dried lavender. I use it as a natural insect repellent for plants but it's very good to help sleep too. Since you said you have trouble sleeping, you can put this by your pillow." You explained.

"Oh, thank you, (y/n). I'll definitely put this by my pillow." Mingi smiled, continuing to sniff the bag.

"I hope it helps." You smiled and he nodded before heading upstairs. You were unaware of the now slightly sulky Hongjoong behind you.

"You didn't have to do that, you know? He's just childishly whining about it." Hongjoong commented. Your eyebrows raised slightly at his words, was Hongjoong jealous?

"I know but I wanted to help since I already have the dried lavender. So I thought why not? It's not 100% effective but it may help just a little so no harm." You shrugged as you followed him up the stairs to see the rest of the house.

"Honestly in our household, almost everyone has trouble sleeping. Not sure if we're just constantly thinking about work or something." He pointed out.

"Oh, really? Well, I don't have anymore on hand now but I'll keep that in mind and bring more the next time I come." You giggled.

~

Series masterlist

[inkedinshadows]

the world(and me. mainly me tbh) is in dire need of prompt 22 with eris. also ily and your writing!

Steamy Intentions

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

A/N: thank you my sweet!! ily too 🩷 this one's a bit shorter than the others, but i hope you enjoy anyway!

Prompt: "You're such a tease today."

Warnings: fluff, teasing, suggestiveness

Word count: 588

Eris groaned softly when you pressed your thumbs into the tense knot at the base of his neck.

He was soaking in the bath you had drawn for him earlier, his eyes closed as you massaged his shoulders. It had been a long week, and you could feel it in the lingering tension coiled within his body.

“Your hands work wonders, my love,” he said quietly.

You smiled, continuing your massage for a few more moments before you let your hands slide down to his chest. Leaning forward from where you sat on the edge of the tub, you pressed a trail of tiny kisses from his neck to his ear.

“They can do even more wonders, you know,” you murmured, caressing his chest until your fingertips brushed the warm water.

Eris's eyes remained closed, but you didn't miss the way the corner of his lips curled in a grin. “Oh, I know they can, darling.”

Your mouth trailed down the side of his throat as your hands dipped beneath the water. “Want me to show you?”

His chuckle was low and soft, like a caress. “You’re such a tease today,” he mused. “First with that little dress, now this… What's the occasion?”

You smiled against his skin. “I knew you liked that dress.”

He could deny it all he wanted, but you knew better. You had caught him stealing glances at you every time he thought no one else would notice. But you did. You always did.

“Well, I couldn't let everyone know how much you affect me, could I?” he retorted.

You hummed before leaving one last kiss in his hair and standing up. At the rustle of fabric, Eris cracked open an eye just in time to watch that very dress slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet.

He sat up a little straighter in the tub, arms draped over the edges as you stepped into the water and settled between his legs. Warmth and bubbles immediately surrounded you, but your focus remained on your mate.

“The occasion,” you said slowly, reaching out to brush his jaw with wet fingers, “is that you've been working hard lately. I wanted to help you take your mind off things.”

His already relaxed expression softened further, and he kissed the tip of your thumb when you brushed it over his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you as close as he could in the snug space of the tub.

“Then I must congratulate you, my dear,” he murmured. “Because you've succeeded. I'm as relaxed as I could ever be.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips soft against yours. You indulged him for just a moment, and when you pulled back, he followed, chasing your lips for another kiss. You only smirked.

“Are you, though?” you teased, hands already disappearing beneath the surface. Now that he had drawn you closer, you could feel his erection rest hard and heavy against your thigh. “Because it seems to me like someone might still need those wonders, after all.”

“Don't you act all innocent, as if it isn't entirely your fault.” Eris smirked right back at you. “You've been teasing me all day. And you looked ravishing in that dress.”

You chuckled, leaning in to kiss him again as your fingers wrapped around his hard length. He shivered and throbbed in your gentle grasp.

“Well, then,” you whispered against his lips. “Since it's my fault, I suppose I should make it up to you.”

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[stellar-constellations]

Andrew Graves Kinkmas

I'm sorry this is late, I literally didn't even think of doing a Kinkmas until Christmas Day! This served as great practice for my writing, although it's very amateurish since I've never wrote any smut/sex before. Hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 13,000 words

WARNINGS (or what this includes): Sex, sex, sex. Amateurish sex scenes. Threats of voyeurism. Overstimulation (male and female). Mirror sex. Pussy eating + blowjobs. Unprotected sex. Sex toys. Praise. Poorly disguised author fetishes (wish of marriage). Bondage. Small dirty talk. Food play. Cum eating.

Kinkmas one: Pussy Eating!

        Andrew had you lying on the kitchen counter, making you lay on your back so he could easily keep your legs spread open. 

        “Andrew!” you mewled, squirming as he forced his arms under your thighs, locking them in place around his head. “Please!”

        You weren’t sure exactly what you were pleading for; if it was for him to go faster for you to that sweet release, or for him to slow down so you could savor the moment.

        “I know, baby.” Andrew hummed, his face messy and shiny under the kitchen’s lighting. “Gimme another minute.”

        “You already said that!” you whined, your eyes darting to the oven clock, breathing heavily to the point you were panting, feeling rushed for your orgasm. “I need to leave for work soon!” 

        “Y’know I love me a woman in uniform...” Andrew teasingly smirked, glancing up from your thighs. "But I'm busy."

        You looked down at him, frowning before your eyes looked back at the clock, another whine leaving your throat, more desperate than the last. “C’mon, Andrew! Please!”

        “Don’t worry, baby.” Andrew hummed, kissing your thighs, before biting down. “I won’t make you late to work. Promise. I’ll drive you.”

        That promise was a little better, but it didn’t exactly help your worries with the limited time you had before needing to clock in for work; and just thinking about trying to orgasm made you feel farther from it. 

        “Keep talking about work and I’ll get the muzzle for you…” Andrew muttered, removing his teeth from your thigh to lick at it, before moving his head and licking a straight line on your clit.

        “Ah!” you gasped, surprised at the feeling of his hot tongue on you, a whimper leaving your lips.

        “It’s that clock, eh?” Andrew questioned, speaking casually as if his tongue wasn’t swirling around your clit, causing your thighs to try and clamp up at the sensitivity—but he wouldn’t allow that. “C’mon, turn over.”

        He put your legs off his shoulders, letting you get up off the counter. He took off his sweater, leaving himself shirtless as he bent you over the counter, covering your head with the sweater so you couldn’t see.

        “Be good and spread ‘em.” He hummed, getting down on his knees and tapping your legs a few times.

        He sat so that you were facing him and the wall, while his head resting on the cabinet, facing your body. 

        Your legs were on one side of Andrew, before you opened them and placed your other foot to his other hip, standing over him.

        A squeal left your lips, surprised at the feeling of his tongue invading your pussy, circling around as he was nose-deep. His tongue scooped out your juices, greedily slurping it down before coming back for seconds, and thirds, and more that you couldn’t count.

        “Fuck!” you cried out, your cheek against the cold counter as Andrew’s tongue rotated between scooping your pussy and sucking on your clit.

        Andrew grabbed your ankle and threw one of your legs over his shoulder, his lips parting from your clit as he spit on his fingers. He allowed two fingers into your pussy at once, softly pumping them in and out for you to adjust.

        “Ngh… Andrew…” You moaned, keening at the slow pumping, before it started speeding up, his long and slender fingers going knuckle-deep, before he started to curl them up to hit that precious spongy spot in you. “Andrew!” 

        His mouth went back to your clit, licking and sucking on it as his fingers curled and uncurled at a faster rate, causing you to whine and squirm.

        His free hand that was resting on your hip went to your ass, before he gave it a warning slap, not too hard but still enough to make you jump.

        “Grind.” He commanded, lolling out his tongue for you to use. 

        You didn’t hesitate to allow your hips to take over, grinding your pussy into his mouth and onto his nose, your legs close to buckling at the pleasure, both of your erotic zones being stimulated at once.

        “Gonna cum!” you whined, your hips bucking as Andrew’s head gently hit the back of the cabinet; although he didn’t care as he continue to finger and lick you.

        A cry left your lips as your legs shook, your hips stuttering as your stomach uncoiled, closing your eyes as scratching the counter as you came, orgasming on his tongue.

        Andrew smiled, pleased as he removed his fingers from your pussy, licking them clean.

        “Always so sweet…” he muttered happily before he hit your thigh, “C’mon. Again…”

Kinkmas two: Toys

        Andrew’s cock had a nice curve that hit your G-spot every time you slammed your hips down onto it, before pulling yourself up, only to drop yourself back down.

        “Fuuuck… Just like that, pretty…” Andrew groaned, his hands resting on your hips as he helped you bounce onto his cock. 

        Little pants and gasps came out from your mouth, out of breath as you worked your thighs overtime to please him. 

        Honestly, riding wasn’t your favorite. The stinging in your legs distracted you from the pleasure of his cock hitting your G-spot, but you didn’t want to disappoint him. So you kept bouncing.

        Andrew knew something was wrong as he looked at the way your eyebrows furrowed together, closing your eyes as you tried to channel all your energy into this intense exercise. You were panting more than you were moaning,

        “Hey.” Andrew spoke up, slapping your thigh. “Stop.”

        You slowed your pace before stopping altogether, looking at him confused. You took the break to breathe, feeling your legs tremble as you saddled Andrew’s lap. 

        “S-something wrong? Am I not… d-doing it right?” you questioned, worried as you tried to catch your breath.

        Andrew sat up from the mattress, before quickly pinning you down underneath him, giving you a stern glare.

        “So this is what we’re gonna be resorting to, huh?” he sighed. “If you’re not enjoying it, tell me.” 

        “But I was!” you stammered, you felt your face burn up, embarrassed at being caught. 

        Andrew sighed, rolling his eyes before he leaned over the bed, opening a drawer from the nightstand.

        “It doesn’t feel good if you don’t feel good. Making me feel like an asshole over here…” Andrew huffed, grabbing a rose vibrator, turning it on and holding it to your clit.        

        “Ah-ha! ‘M sorry!” you cried out, squirming at the sensation.

        “Don’t apologize. Obviously you can’t use your words.” Andrew scoffed, grabbing his hard cock with his free hand and lining it up to your pussy. “I need to feel you cum around my cock. Then I’ll know if you’re sorry.” 

        Andrew smiled, gently pushing his cock into you, starting off with a few soft thrusts to get you warmed up before speeding his hips up.

        “Sorry! ‘M sorry!” you mewled, your hands coming to his shoulders and holding them for dear life.

        Andrew grabbed one of your legs and held it to his hip, causing you to hook it around him and sinking himself balls deep into you, a nasty plap! plap! echoing throughout the room as he sunk himself deeper into you, pulling out before thrusting his cock back into your pussy. 

        “I- Fuck!” you cried out, closing your eyes and moaning, your hands digging into his skin and raking down his arms, leaving fire trails in its wake. 

        Moans escaped your mouth and you were worried the neighbors would hear, but your thoughts immediately melted as Andrew raised the setting of the vibrator, a loud cry escaping your lips as your hips bucked up to chase the pleasure.

        Andrew leaned down and peppered your neck with kisses, leaving small bites as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down and moaning into his ear. 

        Another minute of Andrew’s deep thrusts into your pussy and the vibrator toying with your clit, you came with a cry, your hips rocking against the vibrator to milk out your orgasm as you squeezed his cock. 

        A few moans escaped his mouth before he groaned, shoving his face into your neck to hide it, his hips slowing down to enjoy his orgasm.

        You squirmed and whined as the vibrator still played with your bundle of nerves, overstimulating you before Andrew turned the vibe off, pulling it away from you.

        “You feel good now?” Andrew muttered, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. 

        “Mm-hm.” You nodded, panting as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the afterglow, your brain feeling mush and no longer worrying about the ache in your legs.

        “Good,” He muttered, kissing your neck’s pulse before removing his head from there. He smiled, his stilled hips starting to thrust again. “Let’s keep it that way.” 

Kinkmas three: Grinding + French kisses

        You walked through the door and noticed Andrew sitting on the couch, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs, playing video games on the living room TV. 

        It was annoying to see him after your shift at work. He hadn’t bothered cleaning up, getting dinner started, or even getting up off the couch to greet you!

        “Welcome home.” Andrew muttered, not sparing a glance to you as he button-smashed the controller in his hands. 

        You huffed, walking towards him and pushing his chest, knocking him back against the couch. 

        “Hey?” Andrew huffed, confused before his girlfriend sat down in his lap.

        “Some men really got the audacity. Chivalry is dead.” You scoffed, pouting at him.

        “Wait,” Andrew spoke through gritted teeth, desperate to win his match as he leaned his head to the side to look past you. “I just gotta—damn it!” Andrew hissed, a "game over" text on the living room screen, before he glared at his girlfriend. “Happy?”

        “Very.” You smirked, glad to see you have his attention now. “You can pay attention to me now.”

        “Only until the next match starts or a teammate revives me.” Andrew sighed, before a small smile came to his face.

        He could never be mad with you if all you wanted was a little bit of affection. He reached his hand up and ruffled your hair teasingly, watching as a smile made way onto your face.

        You leaned in, your plush lips connecting with Andrew’s. He reciprocated the act, his hand combing through your hair, brushing away all of your work-stress and drama.

        You let out a protesting whine when he separated from you, mumbling something about his game starting, before you reached out and placed your hands on his cheeks. 

        A surprised sound escaped Andrew’s lips as your quickly crashed your lips right back onto his, tilting your head and attempting to deepen the kiss. 

        Andrew almost pulled away to complain about you getting in the way of his game, but a slow drag of your hips meeting his own quickly made him swallow his complaint; completely forgetting about his game when he had better things to worry about.

        He felt your hips slowly working slow grinds onto his cock, and suddenly that game didn’t seem so important. 

        He opened his mouth for your tongue to glide through his lips. Your tongue pressed up against his, causing a delightful shiver to run down his spine. 

        You squirmed into a position more comfortable, scooting closer as you pressed your chest up against Andrew’s, your clothed pussy directly against his covered cock as your legs wrapped around his waist. Andrew’s hands went to your hips to help grind them into him more firmly.

        A moan forced its way out of his throat, but it only got sucked up in yours as you started sucking on his tongue like it was your favorite hard candy. 

        “Mm… just like that…” Andrew groaned.

        He took one of his hands off your hip and moved it to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you deeper into the kiss. His free hand resting on your hip, before it went to your pants. 

        His fingers traced your thigh, before moving up and latching onto the waistband, tugging down—before his hand was suddenly slapped away.

        “Don’t.” You grumbled into his mouth.

        “Mm… why?” he muttered, trying to pull his lips away from yours, but you wouldn’t have that as your hands went to his collar and kept your lips against his.

        You kept kissing him, sucking on his tongue before finally parting. You bit his bottom lip teasingly, before pulling away.

        “Because you haven’t done anything to earn it…” you answered. “Today was your day to cook, and you didn’t. Your day to clean too. It was your responsibility to get stuff done while I was at work.”

        “I’m sorry. I forgot. I got too distracted playing video games…” Andrew muttered, feeling a slight sting in his lips from where you bit him, the spit-glossed area swelling up. 

        “So you don’t get to fuck me.” You spoke.

        “Fuck. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Andrew spoke, furrowing his eyebrows and gritting his teeth, desperate to feel you.

        “If you’re sorry you’ll listen to me.” You muttered, your pussy grinding onto his cock. “You need to cum first before I even think of letting you fuck me.”

        “God… you’re evil.” Andrew gasped, feeling your hips speed up. 

        He threw his head back against the couch cushioning and let out a throaty groan, both hands going to your hips and gripping them tighter.

        You leaned down and kissed his neck, biting down on some areas and sucking to leave love bites. His hands helped grind your pussy onto his cock, his cock head leaking with pre-cum that stained his boxers. 

        His own hips stuttered, before he started to thrust up into you, his hard cock grinding against your clit in a way that made you gasp and disconnect your teeth from his neck. 

        Andrew pulled you in for a kiss, pinching your hip and causing you to yelp, allowing him to finally dominate your mouth now with his tongue. 

        As his tongue played with yours, Andrew could feel your pussy toying with his cock. He could taste his release, and it was like he could feel your empty pussy squeezing your walls, desperate for him to be inside you.

        “Fuck…” Andrew muttered, his thrusts quickening, albeit becoming sloppy. “G-gonna…” 

        He couldn’t finish his sentence as he groaned, his head hitting the couch as his hips shook, thrusting against his will as he chased his orgasm. His eyes closed tightly, as if trying to escape the intensity of his orgasm. His cum spoiled his boxers, a wet stain appearing on his pants as he panted. 

        “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Andrew groaned, coming down from his high, his hips letting out a weak thrust up every now and then on reflex. “G-give me a second… then I’ll fuck ya, baby.”

        “Oh?” you grinned, tilting your head to the side. “When did I say I was gonna let you fuck me? I’m still not convinced you’re sorry yet.” You purred, your hips speeding back up to a painful pace.

        “A-aha! Fuck!” Andrew hissed, his eyes shooting open and grabbing your hips to try and stop them. “(Y/N)!” 

        It felt like a spiking pain in his now-empty balls, but it was mixed with the pleasure of his cock being stimulated again, a sensation that made his head spin and mouth drool.

        “Cum again, Andrew. Make me convinced you’re sorry.” You hummed, kissing the pulse on his neck. 

Kinkmas four: Phone masturbation + small dirty talk

        Andrew had been visiting his parents’ house after not seeing them since his early college years. He decided to go alone this year since he was only going to be staying there for a weekend, but it was a weekend too long as you tossed and turned in your shared bed.

        You finally accepted that you couldn’t sleep. With a groan, you reached over and turned on the lamp by your bed, illuminating the room with a soft yellow glow.

        You stared at the ceiling, frustrated before eventually just grabbing your phone, unlocking it and searching through your gallery for a picture of Andrew.

        You had an album dedicated to him. Pictures of just mundane things like grocery shopping, running errands, eating food; you liked seeing how handsome he was just by simply existing. 

        You were head over heels for that man.

        You clicked on a picture you took of him finally getting his hair cut. It was just a slight trim, and right after they left the salon he immediately ran his fingers through his hair and messed up all the stylist’s work at trying to keep it out of his face. 

        You liked the photo because of his sly smile from ruining the look, but also because it was him being comfortable with how he normally looked, just being himself. 

        You thought about all the hugs and kisses you’d demand from Andrew when he finally returns home. Contemplating just how many hours of cuddles he owes you for abandoning you (for 2 days).

        You thought about how many hours he owes you in bed, making it up to you and your pussy.

        Damn it, now you were thinking of something else.

        You groaned, brightening the image despite how it hurt your eyes in the low lighting of the room, wanting to see as much of him as you could. 

        Your hands trailed to your panties, toying with your clit over the thin material before going to your slit. You nudged the cloth away and stuck two fingers into your pussy, not bothering in trying to re-enact Andrew’s cock thrusting into you, simply just trying to get a quick quickie in as you curled your fingers up.

        It didn’t do anything. Your fingers were barely even long enough to graze your G-spot, let alone even fill you up as well as Andrew’s fingers did. 

        You resorted to plan B.

        You reached into the bottom of your nightstand and pulled out a dildo. It was a silicone replica of Andrew’s cock that you and him made together on their three-year anniversary.

        You grabbed some strawberry lube and lathered it on your palm, rubbing it up and down the cold silicone replica. You wished it was Andrew’s cock, longing for the warmth in your palm, the feeling of his pulse throbbing between your fingers as you'd jerk him closer and closer to release, his tip turning a pretty red before shooting white blanks. 

        Once you were satisfied with the lube dripping down the purple silicone, you had the tip play with your hole, imagining it was Andrew rubbing his cock up and down your slit, putting his tip in before chuckling and removing it, leaving you wanting more. 

        Luckily, you could decide your own pace as you inserted the full length into your pussy, shuddering at the cold silicone. It was nowhere near warm as Andrew’s was, but you couldn’t be picky with him gone.

        You closed your eyes, imagining Andrew’s voice ringing through your ears as you moved the dildo in and out, trying to match that same pace Andrew would go.

        Your phone rang, ruining the fantasy as you opened your eyes with a frustrated groan. You looked over at the small device resting on your nightstand, before realizing it was Andrew’s contact.

        You immediately stopped what you were doing, before getting an idea. You answered the phone, moving the dildo slowly in and out of yourself, almost moaning at just the sound of his voice. 

        “Hey, baby.” Andrew hummed, a hint of sleep on his voice as he spoke. “What are you doing still up? You know it’s like midnight where you are right now?”

        “I can’t sleep without you.” You muttered, breathless as you held yourself back from speeding up the dildo’s pace so you wouldn’t get caught.

        “I know… I miss you.” Andrew sighed, his deep raspy voice playing out in your ears.        

        You put the phone on speaker so you could place it down on your pillow, leaning back and closing your eyes as the dildo bottomed out, before your wrist pulled it back only to slowly have it fill you up again.

        “I miss you too…” You whimpered on accident. 

        “You okay?” Andrew questioned—you could practically just see the smile on his face.

        “I just want you to come home soon…” you spoke, your body shivering as you felt a slight pang of guilt for using his voice to get yourself off.

        “Yeah?” he hummed. “I can’t wait to come back home. It’s real boring over here, talking about mundane stuff like ‘how’s work?’ or ‘when are you gonna get married?’” Andrew spoke, chuckling. “But you’d like that? Wouldn’t you?” 

        You quickly nodded, a low giggle escaping your lips as you smiled. “O-of course I’d like that…” you breathed out. “B-been waiting… for that.” You muttered.

        “Yeah? A nice ring for you? I can watch as that ring sparkles while you’re shoving your fingers in your pussy.” 

        You quickly stopped the dildo’s movements, shocked.

        “Or maybe see your hand wrapped around my cock pumping it. But I always do like holding your hands while I fuck you.” Andrew purred.

        You sat up, confused. You looked around the room for a second, wondering if Andrew was here or if you were just hearing things.

        “W-what?” you questioned, your voice a bit unsteady.

        “I could hear your pussy crying for me. Sounds like you’re using that dildo; your fingers are always sloppy and out of rhythm…” Andrew smiled.

        “I-I…” you stammered, your face flush as you were embarrassed from being caught. “I’m sorry.”

        “You can make it up to me by continuing.” Andrew hummed.

        “But—“ 

        “Don’t get shy on me now, baby. It’s not like I can see you.” Andrew chuckled, surely a smug smirk on his face. “C’mon, now. All you gotta do is fuck yourself for me… Surely you can at least do that?”

        It sounded like he was mocking or even possibly degrading you, but knowing he wanted you too—wanted to hear your cries and moans—really made you excited. 

        “Mmm…” you breathed out, re-inserting the dildo back into your hole. “O-okay…”

        “Put her on the phone.” Andrew demanded, her being your pussy.

        You listened, leaning back on your pillow and placing the phone right next to your hip, slowly pushing the dildo in and out.

        “Fuck yourself faster; I wanna hear her.” Andrew spoke. 

        You whined, closing your eyes to focus on his voice, listening to Andrew’s voice.

        There was a spitting sound on the other line, before a plap! sound, a low moan from Andrew. You didn’t even know when Andrew had begun pleasing himself, but all you could hear were the wet squelches of lotion he used as he fucked his own fist to the rhythm of your pussy crying out around the dildo.

        “Doesn’t feel as good as your cock, Andrew…” You whimpered, panting, feeling an orgasm building up the more you were exposed to Andrew’s low moans and deep groans.

        “Oh. I know, baby.” Andrew chuckled, almost cockily as he talked you through it. “Just keep going, baby. You’ll have my cock tomorrow when I come home…” Andrew mumbled, moving his hand up and down his shaft. “Keep fucking yourself for me.”

        You let out a shaky breath, a twitch in your thigh as you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet so the neighbors couldn’t hear.

    ��   “Let me hear your pretty moans, baby. I need to at least hear you to get off…” Andrew spoke, his voice airy. “I need a part of you to come, baby.” 

        “Andrew…” you whimpered, shivering as you started taking shorter breaths, your chest feeling heavier and heavier.

        “Good girl… Fuck yourself faster for me.” Andrew purred, wanting to give you some positive reinforcement for the noise.

        “Fuck… Andrew. I-I think I’m gonna come…” you panted, your other hand coming to your clit and rubbing quick circles as you sloppily moved the dildo in and out of you.

        “Y-you just do what you need to do to make you come, baby.” Andrew spoke, letting out a breathless sigh, his stutter giving away that he was close too. 

        “I-I'm coming!” you gasped.

        Your thighs twitching as your fingers grew sloppy on your clit. Your pussy clenched around the dildo, weeping as it didn’t have Andrew’s cum to milk.

        Your thighs and back were drenched in sweat, the feeling uncomfortable as you spread your legs, feeling them unstick from the bedsheets. Some strands of hair covered your face—some even in your mouth as you just realized, your slick-covered hand moving the hair away.

        “Andrew…” you whimpered, listening to Andrew’s voice, pressing your ear against the phone just to better hear any little noise he made.

        “F-fuck! Fuck! (Y/N)!” Andrew hissed, his voice sounding muffled on the other line.

        The hem of his shirt was being held in his mouth to silence his moans. He groaned as his cock spurted white globs, dirtying his hand and stomach. 

        You could almost cry at the loss, wishing you were there to lap up his cum with your mouth—even better, if you were there, it would’ve never left your pussy. 

        “Hah… ah…” Andrew panted, catching his breath as he closed his eyes, working his way through the aftershocks of his release.

        Andrew opened his eyes and looked at his hand, letting out a sigh at the mess before getting an idea. 

        “(Y/N), baby. You still with me?” he hummed.

        “Mm… yeah?” You nodded, listening intently to whatever he had to say.

        “Turn on FaceTime for me.”

Kinkmas five: Sex in the Snow

        You didn't know that challenging Andrew to an innocent snowball fight would end up with him balls deep into your pussy outside.

        All you wanted was to go outside and play with your dear boyfriend after seeing on the news it would snow. You even set an alarm to wake up early so all the snow wouldn't melt! You begged and begged your boyfriend to get up out of your shared bed—which was a pretty hefty feat considering he usually woke up at 2 PM.

        All dressed up in your shirt, jacket, and pants (very underdressed for 10 degrees outside, but you knew that), you were able to drag your boyfriend out into the snow. All it took was a few snowballs to the face to wake him up and get him irritated enough to start chasing you with a mega snowball he composed, large enough to be the head of a snowman. 

        You let out a thrilled shriek, running away from him; but you should know by now that you can never outrun your boyfriend, he is bigger and stronger than you after all! 

        He managed to catch up with you, knocking you to the ground by throwing the colossal snowball at your back. Tumbling down in the snow, it cushioned your fall as you laughed.

        "Andrew!" you giggled, your cheeks hurting from the cold air nipping at your exposed skin. "It's cold!"

        Andrew looked down at you with a smile. He crouched down to roll you over on your back, his long legs in between yours. He couldn't help but admire that bright smile on your face, rivaling the early sun reflecting off the snow. Your now messy and wet hair stuck to your face, mini icicles forming on your eyelashes, but you looked nothing short from an ice goddess.

        He couldn't help but pressed his gloved hands onto your cold cheeks, leaning in and kissing your frozen lips with his. 

        Your eyes widened, surprised at the sudden affection, but you were always a sucker for him as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the warmth of his kiss. You enjoyed his warm breath mingling with yours to fight the cold air surrounding you both. You enjoyed his lips pressed against yours in a delightful bliss. You enjoyed his tongue sliding into your mouth with a murmured excuse of "Let me warm ya up."

        His tongue diligently and effortlessly explored your mouth, your face heating up at the close proximity of his as his tongue just went deeper down your throat. You let out a small whine, remembering you were both still in public as you tried to pull away. Your lips only part for a second before Andrew's gloved hand went to the back of your head, his lips reattached to yours, pushing you back in the snow but with Andrew's hand protecting your scalp from the cold. His tongue re-entered your mouth, swirling around your own hot muscle before sucking on it. 

        His mouth parted from yours, kissing down your jaw before going to your exposed neck. He left hot kisses as his hands unzipped your jacket, grabbing the hem of your shirt.

        "Andrew!" you gasped, feeling the cold invade your skin as he lifted the shirt above your stomach. "We're in public!"

        "So? Nobody's around..." he muttered.

        It's not like your boyfriend would ever allow anyone else to sneak a peek at you. Whenever you wore a skirt in public and dropped your lipgloss tube, he always made sure to stand behind you to block any perv from looking up your skirt (and steal the view for himself). Besides, Andrew would go to the point of murder to keep you safe, no doubt about it.

        "You didn't give me my morning quickie today so you could run outside and play. Let me have this." He muttered. 

        He pressed a quick peck to your lips before your shirt went over your chest. In your haste to come outside, you didn't bother wearing a bra, a factor Andrew took to his advantage as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking on it as if he was expecting milk to dribble out. His hand kneaded and tweaked at your other nipple, feeling it harden due to the harsh winter breeze. 

        Your breath came out in icy smoke as you moaned, squirming underneath your lover as you were pinned to the ground. 

        You figured he wanted to be quick so nobody in the park could walk by and see. As his mouth switched to your other nipple, his free hand that wasn't playing with your nipple was buckling his pants and pulling down his boxers enough to reveal his swollen cock.

        "Fuck, that's cold!" Andrew shivered, a violent spike of ice rushing up his back as he visibly shook.

        You let out a giggle, deciding it would be the perfect opportunity to tease him.

        "The cold won't bother you and little Andy's performance, right?" you smirked, remembering reading online that male genitalia shrunk in the cold. 

        "Little?" Andrew questioned, visibly annoyed at your smartass comment. 

        His hands went to pull down your pants and panties, not bothering to unbutton them as he opted to simply tug them down like an animal in his haste. 

        "I'll show you little..." he muttered, whether to you or himself, you don't know. "I just need to get warmed up is all; and what better way is there other than your warm cunt?" 

        He ripped his glove off his hand with his grabbed some snow and pressed it onto your pussy, causing you to violently squirm under him and yelp.

        "Andrew! What was that for?" you whined as the snow melted into cold water on your throbbing clit. 

        "Positive punishment." Andrew smirked. 

        "Water does not work like lube!" you whimpered, feeling his warm hands rub the cold water up and down your slit. 

        "Cry about it." Andrew shrugged, a smirk on his face as he grabbed a glob of fresh snow, before sticking it and two of his fingers into your pussy.

        Another surprised cry left your lips, squirming at the weird sensation. The feeling of Andrew's warm hands mixed with the snow melting in your hot cunt almost made you cry, giving you a mental whiplash with your thermoreceptor trying to decipher if it was hot or cold... but it felt oddly good as his fingers kept fucking in and out of your pussy quickly.

        He had enough of teasing you, wanting to make this quick as you both were still out in the open. His slick-covered hand went to his cock, giving it a few pumps and shivering at the cold around him, before sticking it into your cunt. 

        "Ohhh..." he let out a relaxed groan, closing his eyes. "Fuck, your pussy feels so warm." 

        You couldn't respond back as he started to thrust in and out of you, already starting at a faster than normal pace. Quick ah, ah, ah's left your lips along with moans as your eyes squirmed shut, your head falling back on the gloved hand Andrew was still using to help protect your scalp from the cold. 

        His balls slapped against your clit, eliciting sharp gasps and whines from you, his dick rubbing your tight inner walls and hitting that sweet spot just right to have you seeing a color whiter than snow. 

        Every now and then, his lips would sloppy kiss yours, before his head retreated into the crook of your neck, his warm breath heating the skin there as your back continuously rubbed against the snow. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and brought him in close, hugging him to protect you from the cold (and have his cock bury deeper into your wet pussy). 

        You're surprised that there isn't a hole in the snow from how heated he was roughly fucking you into the snow. It felt like utter bliss having his hips thrust into yours as deep as he could go, not being able to separate from you for more than a second as he quickly sought back out for your warmth. 

        Andrew's free hand kissed your clit, his fingers now cold after their prolonged exposure out in the snow as he rubbed quick circles around your clit to make you come. You couldn't help but come quickly after a few more thrusts, feeling Andrew rotating between kissing and groaning into your neck before his hips stuttered, pouring out all of his cum into your warm and awaiting pussy. 

        You both stopped to take some breaths, calming down after your climax. Now that you were done passionately dirtily making love, the freezing cold truly set in.

        "Shit... Let's go inside now." Andrew groaned.

        You had no complaints, not after being fucked so good. Your legs felt too wobbly to try running around in the snow again, so you let him pull out of you, watching his cum fall into the snow and camouflage with it.

        Andrew pulled back up your pants and re-buttoned his. He helped you off the ground and picked you up like the gentleman he is.

        "Hey, look." Andrew spoke. "We made a snow angel." He snickered dirtily, bringing your attention to the holes in the snow your bodies made while Andrew was warming your insides with his cock.

        Maybe not so much of a gentleman...

Kinkmas six: Sex in a fitting room

        Christmas was coming up, and that meant shopping for presents. It’s hard to try and come up with gifts as you get older. 

        Usually you’d buy a nice smelling candle for someone and call it a day, but you’re old enough to where candles don’t work as presents anymore. Your extended family has little ones now, and you can’t trust those kids with not eating cookie scented wax. 

        At least Andrew was there to keep you company, but he wasn’t no better when it came to Christmas presents, usually buying mugs that said things such as “best mom, best dad, best sister, best brother in law,” those cliche 15 buck mugs. 

        You two weren’t really the best shoppers, huh?

        It’s how you found yourself at the mall, trying to find gifts for the kids that were actually worth it. A kid won’t care about a damn mug, and they especially cannot play with fire while trying to light a candle. The best option is clothes; helps with the parents bank account and doesn’t drive them insane with the noise.

        Sure, the kid might not care too much, but they’re three, there’s not too much they like other than cartoons and sweets. 

        “Hm. Andrew, what do you think?” you questioned, holding up a black and red flanneled dress.

        It was pretty cute for the kid. It’s nice colors, soft quality (you made sure, thanks to your sensitive skin and fabric tastes), and it doesn’t have cringy words like "Daddy’s girl" or a weird hole in the back showing the kids skin.

        Seriously, what’s with these stores and their adult choices for kids? Mini bikinis for a three year old? Either the clothing companies are ran by pedophiles or “independent moms who want their kids to express their interests.” They’re three Susan, they’re in their dinosaur phase and will secretly never grow out of it. Get real.

        “Better than what most of these are…” Andrew sighed. “I mean, seriously. I get the stereotype that girls wear pink, but this is too much. It feels like I’m in a Barbie store.” Andrew grimaced. 

        “And now you see why I steal your clothes.” You hummed, ignoring the small (yet playful) glare Andrew sent your way. 

        “I should steal your clothes.” Andrew huffed.

        “You can’t fit in a bra.” You smirked. “But feel free to try the panties.”

        “You’re gross.” Andrew grimaced, annoyed. “Don’t say that when we’re in a kids clothes section shopping for Ashley’s kids…”

        “Good point.” You hummed, realizing how it sounded.

        You grabbed a pair of black leggings and threw it into the small basket you were holding. It’s always good to have a kid wear leggings under their dress, especially because they’re in the phase to pull it up any chance they get (kids just do that cause they’re bored or they’re playing with the fabric). 

        “Alright… we got the clothes.” You spoke. “Should we get a toy too? The clothes can be a gift for the parents, and the toy can be a gift for the kid?”

        You turned to look back at Andrew, but he wasn’t there.

        “Andrew?” you questioned, confused as you looked around.

        Damn it, did you wander too far again? You had a bad habit of getting distracted and wandering away from Andrew. It always makes him worried when he doesn’t know where you are.

        Wait, you’ve still been in the same damn aisle this whole time. Andrew was the one that ran off this time.

        “This is his blood niece, not mine.” You grumbled, annoyed. 

        You walked around the store, before finding Andrew at the woman’s lingerie. 

        If you didn’t know who he was, you’d assume the dude was checking out the girls in the panty photos, but you recognize that dark and moody man as your boyfriend.

        “Did you take me seriously on wearing panties?” you smirked, reuniting with him.

        Andrew sent a quick glare at you, muttering for you to “shut up.” 

        He had some things bunched up in his hands, immediately hiding them behind his back when you tried to peek.

        “Hey…” You frowned, trying to peek behind him. “What’s yours is mine. Let me see!”

        “It’s not mine yet, I haven’t bought it!” Andrew retorted, guarding the fabrics with his life.

        “Show me your fetish!” you spoke stubbornly.

        “I told you I’m not interested in your perverse male crossdressing of me!” Andrew hissed, quickly drawing his boundaries on the matter.

        “I’m gonna marry you one day; let me see your secrets!” you started to whine, your curiosity eating you alive now.

        You’ve never tried lingerie with Andrew before. He’s a simple man with simple pleasures, he doesn’t need lewd clothing to be enticed by you; your Sunday morning clothes are enough to get him going. 

        “Just wait. I could be shopping for your Christmas presents.” Andrew huffed.

        “More like your Christmas presents.” You frowned. 

        “Just c’mere.” Andrew sighed, giving in as he grabbed your hip.

        He guided you to the back where the dressing rooms were, not bothering to wait for an employee to give them a room as he dragged you into a fitting room.

        “Strip.” He spoke.

        “Right now?” you sighed, annoyed.

        “Yes. Let me see how you look in this one.” Andrew pulled one of the pieces of attire from behind his back, revealing a pretty maroon brown shade, a hint of purple in the mix.

        “Okay…” you muttered, hesitantly looking at him before giving into his request and removing your clothes.

        Andrew smirked, sitting down on the fitting room’s bench and enjoying the show of your bare skin, a perverse glint in his eyes as he held no shame in eyeing you up like meat. It would make you feel self-conscious if you weren’t aware of how bad he wanted you (which, judging by the small twitch in his cock, he definitely did). 

        You put on the set of lingerie. It was a teddy bodysuit lingerie, the G-string tight (and let’s be honest, annoying) between your buttocks. You sent a glare to Andrew, pouting.

        “Are you mocking me with this?” you frowned.

        “No, baby.” He chuckled, grabbing your hips and sitting you down onto his thigh. “Just admiring you and your body.” He smirked. 

      �� He grabbed the small G-string and pulling it, before letting it go and hitting you. You’re lucky it’s satin fabric, otherwise it probably would’ve hurt. 

        At least it’s not lace, that’s really uncomfortable.

        “Eh, it’s okay. But definitely not what I was expecting.” Andrew hummed.

        “Are you saying I look bad in it?” you questioned.

        “I’m saying it looks bad on you. It doesn’t flatter you. A disgrace the designer made.” Andrew spoke, grabbing the small string sleeve on your shoulder and sliding it off. “Now, take it off. I think I have something better for you.” 

        What a smooth talker… blaming the lingerie for making you look bad, not you looking bad in the lingerie. Obviously, he has experience with not accidentally upsetting you with his wrongly phrased words. 

        You allowed him to strip the clothing off you, your buttocks thankful as it didn’t have something wedged between its cheeks—well, until Andrew’s hard on instead took its place, his pants straining against you.

        “I can feel you.” You spoke, looking back at him. 

        “Thanks.” Andrew smiled, proud of his size.

        You rolled your eyes, a poorly hidden smile breaking out on your lips just as he grabbed another piece.

        This one was an emerald green, an obvious comparison to his eyes; predictable and cheesy, he was. 

        The lingerie was another teddy, lace exterior with soft cotton on the inside. It hugged your hips and torso, pushing up your breasts. The sleeves were once again string, but at least it wasn’t giving you a wedgie as it was cheeky panties instead.

        There were garter belts that hugged your thighs tightly, your muffin tops pouring out of the tight fabric like risen dough fresh from the oven.

        Andrew sat you back onto his thigh, your legs straddling his lean yet toned thigh. One of his hands went to your thigh, unapologetically squeezing the soft flesh like a stimming toy, while his other hand came up to your hair.

        “I wish you wore your hair bow today…” he sighed. “It’d match this so well…” he muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder.

        His head dipped down to your neck, pressing soft kisses, before he started to bounce his leg.

        A soft gasp escaped your mouth, zipping your lips as you felt your clit vibrate against his thigh. His foot tapped the ground, your breasts bouncing up and down from the movement as his hands moved to your chest, squeezing what he can hold. His hands kept you from falling off his leg as he started to speed up, small whines and moans pouring out of your lips.

        “A-Andrew, we shouldn’t. I’m dirtying the lingerie…” you whimpered, but you couldn’t help looking down at his leg between your thighs, watching as your clothed crotch rubbed against his grey pants.

        “I like it on you. I’m buying it.” He spoke.

        “How much is it?” you questioned, tilting your head back to look at his eyes.

        “Don’t worry about it.” He hummed, one of his hands moving from your chest to grab your chin, forcing your head to look back at the wall.

        His hand moved from your chin down to your neck, a gentle squeeze that caused a whine to escape your lips. A grin painted its way onto his face as he tightened his grip just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded, his mouth coming down to your collarbone to bite on it. 

        “So pretty…” he muttered, smiling as his canines dug into your soft skin.

        “Ow…” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes closed.

        He combated your pain by bouncing his leg harder, pressed his heel on the ground and rotating his ankle so his whole leg would move in circles, creating circles onto your clit that caused an “Ah!” to leave your lips.

        Your head fell back onto his shoulder, your eyes dizzy as his leg toyed with your little bundle of nerves, your clit throbbing as it wiggled under the friction. You could feel his hips thrusting up, his cock pressing against your ass, low pants tumbling out of his lips as he huffed and puffed against your neck. 

        The hands on your breasts moved to your nipples, gently pinching and squeezing at them, causing you to squeeze and arch your back into his cock, whining at the added stimulation.

        Your moans started to raise in volume, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation as a coil in your stomach was about to snap. 

        Only for Andrew’s hands to go to your hips, lifting you up off him.

        “W-wha? An…Andrew?” you panted, breathing heavily as you turned your head back to him, confused.

        Your nipples felt sore from his teasing and your legs were shaking, your clit throbbing with pain from your denied orgasm. 

        “Well? There’s still one more piece.” Andrew spoke, an airy tone in his voice signaling he was enjoying earlier just as much, having your ass grind down into his dick. “Come on. Try it.”

        He pulled a white lingerie hiding behind him, cheekily smiling as he showed you it.

        It was white babydoll lingerie, lace on the exterior and (once more) cotton on the interior. At least Andrew wanted you comfortable, you noted as you shivered at the feeling of removing the soaked emerald lingerie off you, exposing yourself to the cold.

        The new lingerie had a translucent, babydoll skirt that hung over the cheeky, crotchless panties, leaving your arousal exposed and dripping down your legs as your put it on. It had over-the-shoulder translucent sleeves, and a classic push up bra built in, along with white garter belts to match. 

        It felt like lingerie you would wear on your wedding night, the white symbolizing your purity you were going to get rid of to your husband. 

        “I take it back. You should’ve definitely wore your hair bow with this one.” Andrew smiled, admiring you like you were his newly wedded bride.

        Andrew stood up from the bench, picking it up and moving it to the door, that was he was sitting right in front of the fitting room’s mirror. He grabbed your waist and he guided you to the position he wanted. You were sitting down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.

        Andrew’s legs wrapped around yours, his ankles holding yours hostage as he spread your legs open and forced them to stay open using his own. One of his hands grabbed your chin again and tilted your head to the side, the other hand moving down to the hole in your lingerie.

        His index finger slid up and down your slit with ease thanks to your arousal lubricating the area. His middle and ring finger nudged at your entrance, before sliding right in.

        A slow moan escaped your lips, before it grew in volume as his fingers wasted no time getting to the good part, curling up to hit that patchy spot in your pussy that made your clit scream.

        His fingers mercilessly abused your G-spot, all while he gently kissed up and down your neck, mumbling praises about “how good you take him” and “how pretty you were trying to keep quiet.”

        His fingers pounded that spot inside you, your head falling back to his chest as your shoulders shook and heaved, taking every ounce of your body to keep quiet, begging that nobody nearby could hear your loud pants or the soft, dirty squelching coming from your pussy as it gripped onto Andrew’s fingers desperately.

        Andrew removed his fingers from your pussy, taking them to his mouth to have a taste. He plopped them onto his tongue, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked on your taste like it was a lollipop.

        “I can never get over how good you taste…” he muttered, popping his fingers out his mouth, licking his lips to savor the taste. “When we get home I want you riding my face.”

        He slapped your thigh, prompting you to jump up from your seat. Andrew stood up with you, the sound of his belt being undone as he took his cock out from his boxers. 

        His hand grabbed yours, eloping behind you and pressing your hand against the wall, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. It was embarrassing, seeing your messy hair and the hickeys and bite marks Andrew left on your neck and collarbone; but it was arousing seeing Andrew’s eyes focused on yours through the mirror, not bothering to watch as he slid his leaking mushroom tip—purple and drooling with pre-cum—into your prepped pussy.

        A relieved sigh escaped his lips as you groaned at the familiar intrusion, feeling his pelvis meet your skin, bottoming out to his balls inside you. 

        “Focus on your pretty face, baby. I want you to love what I love.” Andrew whispered in your ear, smiling as his head burrowed into the crook of your neck, both of his hands grabbing your hips and forcing them back into his.

        He started at a nice pace, a relaxing rhythm that caused low sighs and hums to escape your mouth, your eyes drooping as your mind descended into pleasurable bliss—that was until his arm wrapped around your abdomen, bending you over as his pace became rougher.

        You had to hold your arms on the walls so you can stabilize yourself from Andrew’s harsh thrusts, loud plap! plap! plap!'s echoing throughout the fitting room.

        It was like he was trying to get caught. Like the idea of someone seeing him balls deep inside you—making your eyes roll back to your skull—turned him on. 

        His cock throbbed as his hips slapped the back of your thighs and ass, leaving mean strawberry marks as his other arm joined his against your abdomen.

        He hunched over more, forcing you to bend and take his weight above you as he used your pussy to pound into as he pleased. The angle of his thrusts like this, and his arms tightly squeezing your abdomen, made you cry out in pleasure, your hands scratching down the walls as you watched you lose yourself in the mirror. 

        Your eyes glazed over as you made eye contact with Andrew—who was still looking at you. His eyes had a dark cloud over them, small huffs and groans tumbling out of his mouth as he viciously thrusted into you like you were being punished. You cried out, wondering what you did that set him off.

        Was this punishment for teasing him earlier?

        There was a loud knock on the dressing room, the person’s words unintelligible. You could practically feel yourself die inside, utterly embarrassed as you forgot you were still in public. 

        “Occupied!” Andrew gruffed, speaking up through the wet slaps of his balls against your pussy. 

        Your knees felt like collapsing, buckling under you as your height dropped. Andrew quickly picked you back up, grabbing the bench from behind and moving it in front of you. He bent you over it, your stomach pressed against the cold wood as his hand found its way to your hair, forcing your head up to look at your reflection as you could only accept watching you come undone around his cock.

        His free hand made home on your clit, circling it mercilessly. Another loud moan tumbling out of your lips, before you whined.        

        “Andrew! Andrew! Andrew! Coming! I’m coming!” 

        Your body shook as your nervous system was overtaken with ecstasy, feeling as Andrew drained his balls into your awaiting pussy that milked him of everything he’s worth.

        “Good girl.” Andrew muttered, panting as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck.

Andrew licked his lips, getting down on his knees behind you, preparing for his well-deserved meal before another loud knock echoed.

        “Get out of there!” a female spoke.

        “Oh my god.” Andrew muttered, rolling his eyes, annoyed. “Terrible customer service around here. Who rushes their customers?”

        You felt humiliated as you took off your lingerie and quickly changed into your normal clothes. Andrew unlocked the door, irritated he as held your basket of items.

        “Can we buy these before you kick us out?”

Kinkmas seven: Food Play

You had cookies cooling on the counter, the smell of gingerbread wafting in the air as you pumped the icing for the cookies.

        Andrew sat in a chair, withering and squirming as you had him tied by some Christmas lights, your hands milking his cock over and over again.

        “Ah! Fuck! Ah! Baby, please!” Andrew sobbed, some tears in his eyes as his thighs shook profusely.

        “Still not enough icing…” You muttered, looking at the bowl of icing, it was only about 4 tablespoons, not enough for a whole batch of gingerbread cookies. 

        “Please. I need a break.” Andrew begged.

        Even though he was asking for a break, his hips still bucked up, chasing the pleasure coming from your hands squeezing his cock.

        You sat on the ground in front of him, on your knees are your hands moved up and down his dick quickly, your hands squeezing his shaft.

        “Please. Please.” He pleaded, his head thrown back on the chair, panting as a string of drool dripped down his chin and jaw, landing on his shirt that was raised up to his chest. 

        His abdomen shrunk and expanded, his abs shaking and cramped from how many times they clenched to come. His hands tied behind his back, restrained by Christmas lights that dug into his skin every time he tried to move, no doubt leaving dull bruises for later.

        “Keeping making the icing.” You spoke, unfazed by his begging as one of your fingers played with the slit on his big mushroom tip.

        The head of his cock oozed with pre-cum, practically covering his whole length. His tip was purple, sore and overstimulated, but that didn’t stop you from milking him of all he’s worth, ignoring his begging for a break as you squeezed the head.

        It felt like hell and heaven for Andrew, closing his eyes to focus the sensation even more. The pain of his over-milked cock filled with the thick pleasure in his stomach left his head dizzy and vision spinning, wondering what he did to deserve this treatment and how the hell he can get it again in the future.

        You stood up from the ground, confusing Andrew as he opened his eyes. You pulled down your panties, sitting on Andrew’s lap and grabbing his dick, lining it up to your pussy before sinking down on him.

        “Ah!” Andrew gasped, his voice whiny as his hips unconsciously bucked up to meet your welcoming warmth.

        Andrew would’ve grabbed your hips to stop you if he wasn’t tied up, but he couldn’t, so he was just forced to sit back and let you bounce on his cock.

        “Oh my f-fucking god…” Andrew moaned, his eyes threatening to roll back in his skull. “Y-you’re so fucking perfect. S-so fucking perfect.” 

        His hips desperately thrusted up into you, heavy pants and whiny moans escaping his lips. It was hot seeing a moody, broody man like Andrew reduced to a puddle of mush, his face bright red from his usually pale white, watching your pussy take him in and push him out, only before pulling back in.

        “I-I’m gonna come.” Andrew rasped out, only after a few bounces from you.

        “You’re already gonna come, pretty boy?” you smiled, giggling.

        Usually that nickname would make him annoyed at you, but there was truly no other words to describe him as other than a pretty boy. With his flushed, pale skin. The heavy bags under his eyes paired with the piercing green in his crying eyes. The slimness of his collar bone marked with your bites and lipgloss marks. The red—almost desperate purple—color of his flushed, throbbing cock in your pussy. 

        You continued riding him despite his whiny cries of it being “too much” and how he “can’t come anymore.” 

        His jaw dropped as his thrusting stuttered, a loud cry escaping his mouth as his whole body violently convulsed, his shoulders shivering as his feet repeatedly hit the ground like a rabbit trying to run from the hungry wolf.        

        His cock twitched inside of you as his already-empty balls worked overtime to try and produce more cum for you to take. 

        His glazed-over eyes looked at the ceiling, more tears falling down his face as his body finally stopping jerking, although he still shook. You wiped a bead of sweat off his face, pressing a soft and almost apologetic kiss on his lips, before sitting up off his cock.

        A strained whimper left his lips as your warm heat left him. You looked at the small amount of cum between your legs, letting out a disappointed sigh.

        “Andrew. This isn’t enough for the whole batch.” You frowned.

        “I-I’m —hic— sorry. So fucking s-sorry…” He whimpered, teary eyes desperately trying to open his eyes and keep them on your face. 

        You clicked your tongue, disappointed as you wiped the cum off your pussy and added it to the bowl of cum. You mixed it in with a scoop of icing, watching it all combine. 

        You grabbed a spoon and spread the mixture out on one of the now-cooled cookies, spreading the icing evenly onto the gingerbread. You grabbed the cookie and took a bite, enjoying the salty, sweet, gingery taste of the sweet. 

        “Andrew.” You spoke, holding the cookie up to his shivering lips. “Come on, eat up. You need energy for more. There’s still more cookies to ice…”

Kinkmas eight: Female Overstimulation

        It had been your fault for those cookies, tying him down to that chair and torturing (pleasing) him like that.

        You should’ve known he would’ve sought out vengeance; it wasn’t like Andrew to just let your bratty behavior go unpunished. It was your fault for dropping your guard after a tiring shift, opening your front door only to be dragged to the bedroom by your boyfriend.

        Andrew had your hands bound with a silk ribbon you’ve used in the past for BDSM. Of course he’d tie you up, he couldn’t have your hands trying to fight and push him away when the pleasure became too much. 

        The worst part was it wasn’t even his hands touching you. His hands were too busy playing some YouTube video you couldn’t give a damn to identity as you laid next to him, a vibrator stick to your clit, leaving you defenseless as you sobbed into his chest.

        One hand held his phone while the other gently brushed his fingers through you hair, the affectionate act almost mocking you as he neglected you of his cock.

        Another violent surge of pleasure shot through you, burying your head deeper into his chest as you cried, feeling your poor, used clit throb again. 

        His fingers didn’t stop brushing through your hair, as if reassuring you despite being the one to put yourself in this situation. 

        You sobbed as another wave of pleasurable pain wrecked your clit, the stimulation almost unbearable as you were forced to be overstimulated once more.

        “Please. Sorry. Sorry.” You cried, looking up to meet his eyes, big fat tears in your own as you pleaded at him.

        He ignored you, his hands still in your hair as he continued watching his video. You would assume he’d be immune to your pleads and tired moans if you weren’t aware of his hard cock straining through his jeans. 

        The YouTube video finally ended and Andrew turned off his phone. You looked up at him, hopeful to finally have his cock buried inside you, even if you were sensitive.

        “You ready to behave?” Andrew inquired.

        “Y-yes! I am!” you rasped, your voice sore from crying and moaning.

        “Do you want my cock now?” Andrew questioned, smiling.

        “Please, yes!” you nodded your head, your heart racing as it felt like a dream come true to finally have him inside you again.

        He grinned, a grin too big to let you know he was planning something. He leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer, grabbing a dildo—the replica of Andrew’s dick. 

        Your smile fell, all your hope shattered instantly upon seeing that dildo. 

        “W-what? But y-you said…” Your voice sounded weak, like a child seeing their ice cream fall, the vibrator against your clit already making your voice sound pathetic as it is.

        “Yeah. My cock. My cock replica.” Andrew smiled, a evil smirk on his face. “It’s still my dick, after all. Are you being picky?”

        “W-well, I m-mean—“

        “Do you not want it?” Andrew questioned.

        The threat of losing the closest thing to Andrew’s cock actually terrified you. You quickly shook your head, afraid.

        “N-o! Please, no! I’ll t-take it!” you responded quickly, desperate to not take away what was closes for what you could get.

        You’d just have to suck it up—for now.

        Andrew slapped the dildo against your already abused clit, pulling a whine from you. He rubbed the dildo up and down your entrance, lubing it up with your arousal before he pressed it into your pussy.

        You let out a moan, closing your eyes. The dildo helped settle an ache that burned in your stomach—but it didn’t extinguish that fire in you.

        No matter how many times you came from the vibrator sucking on your clit, or the dildo Andrew manually pounded into your cunt himself, it wasn’t enough to satisfy your need for him.

        You were in no position to beg. Even if you were tired from coming and just wanted to be done with, it was like you couldn’t be satisfied until you at least had Andrew inside of you. 

        It was like you were conditioned to associate Andrew with pleasure and safety, mediocre vibrator and flimsy silicone dildos just didn’t do the trick. It didn’t take care of you and scratch that itch only Andrew could reach. 

        “P-please.” You pleaded, ready to beg and do whatever it takes to have Andrew take care of you himself. “I n-need your cock. Your real, t-throbbing cock attached to you. I need y-you to come inside me.” You begged, your voice dry from all your loud moans earlier.

        Pride, ego, dignity, self-respect be damned; you’d probably go insane within the next ten minutes if you didn’t have Andrew’s cum dripping down your thighs.

        “What a dirty mouth, pretty.” Andrew chuckled, smirking as his hand controlled the dildo going in and out of you. “It’s been awhile now… 40 minutes about…?” he hummed, looking at the clock. “Come one more time and maybe I’ll think about it.”

        A frustrated whine escaped you, before Andrew’s free hand quickly tweaked at your nipple, gently pinching it. 

        “Ah. Watch your attitude. It’s what got you here in the first place.” He scolded.

        You felt like you could cry, fed up and desperate while being full just at the same time. It was a frustrating edge teetering between “too much” and “too little.”

        But Andrew just loved pushing you off that edge.

        The dildo hit your sweet spot with scary accuracy; a spot Andrew had dedicated to memory. He felt like he’d be an incompetent loser if he couldn’t even please his woman—and by damn was Andrew anything other than incompetent. 

        A few more thrusts and you were seeing stars you didn’t want to see. Your pussy gripped tightly on a fake dick you didn’t want instead you. Your clit screamed and throbbed from a vibrator you really wanted off now as it shot painful, overstimulated shockwaves to your little bundle of nerves.

        Andrew turned off the suctioning vibrator, placing it on the nightstand. He pulled out the dildo your pussy unconsciously kept clenching around, lifting it up to your mouth for a taste.

        You knew what would please him, peeking your tongue out just slightly and sucking on the tip of Andrew’s fake cock, tasting the overly sweet arousal of yourself mixed with the dildo’s silicone taste.

        It was always surprising how sweet you tasted, like sugary lemonade on a hot day, ready to quench your thirst and leave your tongue salivating for more and more. 

        Speaking of tongue salivating, Andrew was feeling pretty thirsty himself after seeing you squeeze the life out of the dildo, a loud moan escaping you as you came.

        You could even formulate words, or even try to put up a fight as Andrew removed the dildo, tossing it somewhere on the bed as he grabbed your waist. He laid down on the bed, dragging your hips to his face and forcing you to face the wall.

        His tongue licked a long stripe on your slit, a loud cry escaping you. If you weren’t tied up with ribbon, you would be gripping onto the headboard for dear life—but you weren’t, so you settled for resting your forehead on the cold wall and crying out for your neighbors to hear just on the other side of the wall.

        You couldn’t beg Andrew to stop or keep going, to give you a break so you could regain your composure. You would’ve at least appreciated being gagged so you wouldn’t have an awkward conversation with the neighbors later at the mailbox about your private life (even if it wasn’t really private anymore). 

        Andrew’s tongue couldn’t help but explore your wet warmth, refusing to part as he licked and poked at every ridge, squish, and layer there was. He couldn’t help but flex his jaw and open wider, his hands grabbing onto your thighs tightly and pulling you down into his mouth.

        A loud sob escaped your lips, your head softly hitting the wall. It felt like you were going mad. His tongue was driving you mad. You wanted to squirm and scream but you couldn’t control your vocals, and Andrew’s strong grip onto your thighs refused to even let them flex.

        Curse him and his sleeper build. It wasn’t fair to be tall, broodingly hot, and strong; it might as well be a wet dream for girls like you. 

        Wet indeed, just like how Andrew’s hot muscle ventured your hot cave without any insecurity or concern, unwavering confidence as he explored your ocean like he hasn’t wadded in it before.

        “Fucking hell… such a pretty pussy…” Andrew groaned, his mouth leaving your pussy, one of his hands coming to your clit to rub the swollen nub.

        You let out an unintelligible sob, your hips forcing themselves to rock and chase that pleasure despite knowing it’ll hurt again from the overstimulation—but the promise of your sweet orgasm outweighed that concern as your clit rubbing his fingers.

        “Taste so fucking good. I don’t need anything else in my life…” He groaned, his eyes drooped, dazed as he watched your overflowing arousal from your hands coat his fingers.        

        He slapped your clit, causing a yelp to leave you as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, savoring your taste, before working his lips back onto your lower ones. 

        He stuck his tongue back in your pussy, drool escaping his mouth as he unhinged his jaw to reach as deep as his tongue can go. He was a man with a mission as his hands grabbed your hips and forced you to grind on his face. 

        Your mouth fell open, your eyes practically rolling to your skull as you saw white? Or was it black? Whatever damn color of the rainbow it was, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t bother to worry about the color when there was a flood of juices escaping your pussy with the force of a tsunami, squirting all over Andrew’s face and dripping down his neck.

        You wanted to apologize, even though you knew it’d be fine with Andrew. You would’ve at least gave a warning if you could speak.

        Andrew didn’t care about the mess, he just cared about cleaning it up at he lapped at your pussy and thighs like a dehydrated man. 

        “Fuck! Yeah! That’s more like it!” Andrew laughed, breathless and a new found rigor as he slapped your clit again, making sure there was no more juices you were trying to hold back from him as he grinned. 

        He sat you right up off his face without any struggle, having you straddle his lap while he untied the ribbon around your arms; a reward for squirting.

        Once he got the ribbon off, he pushed you down on the bed, landing you on your back as he grabbed your legs. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them up to his hips since you had no strength to wrap them around his waist. You couldn’t do anything but moan and grip the bedsheets.

        He thrusted his cock into you, causing you to see stars and wonder what you did to reach Heaven’s gates.

        “Such a good girl coming that hard around my tongue. ‘Could feel the circulation practically stop.” Andrew chuckled darkly. “You can give me another one, right? Squirt on my cock, baby.” 

        A loud cry you didn’t know you could even make escaped, your ears ringing as your head rattled with the wet, sticky sounds of plap! plap! plap!'s bouncing around your eardrums. 

        Andrew’s arms wrapped around your knees and raised your legs to your shoulders, folding you into a mating press. 

        You couldn’t even last five minutes, especially not with how Andrew’s fingers started circling your clit, desperate to have you coming on his cock faster.

        Andrew’s cock hit a spot that made you drool, something you shouldn’t even be surprised of by now as your back arched, creating a perfect angle for Andrew to reach said spot easier. 

        “Oh, fuck. Merry Christmas to me…” Andrew groaned, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he bit his bottom lip, holding his composure.         

        Andrew’s rested his sweaty forehead against yours, panting and smiling as you struggled to make eye contact with him without the possibly of your eyes rolling back.

        He kissed you just as you came around his cock, his hot lips and the taste of you and him invading your mouth as he sucked on your tongue for being a good girl and squirting around his cock.

        But even when you reached his orgasm, he hasn’t reached his yet, so he just kept plowing and plowing until he was satisfied with your mess—but that wouldn’t be until awhile…

Bonus! New Years Eve

        “Andrew, where’s your girlfriend?” one of the elder neighbors asked.

        It was New Years Eve. The whole apartment complex decided to get together to celebrate, all partying with chips and hotdogs and some poorly woman’s green bean casserole that was too soggy. 

        But the neighbor was right, you were nowhere to be seen. That is, if they don’t look until the table.

        The table had a red protective cover that reached the floor, absolutely perfect for you to hide under.

        Some would go under the table to eat twelve red grapes, but you had two red balls in your mouth instead to match the red sopping panties you had underneath your skirt. 

        “Bathroom.” Andrew spoke with great haste, his hand on resting on your head as your mouth slid up and down his length.

        A small line of drool escaped his lips, one quickly disguised as he picked up his glass of juice (you insisted it’d be sparkling juice, but he couldn’t give a damn about alcohol while your mouth was insistent on milking his cock for a beverage instead). 

        His fingers were tangled snuggly in your hair, guiding your bobbing head up and down, up and down.

        Sometimes you would lick a teasing circle around his cock’s slit and he’d have to cough so he could explain why his mouth kept suddenly opening and closing.

        The clock was two minutes left, as a countdown on the TV in the living room played right next to the dining room.

        Andrew could feel your hands taking ahold of his cock, taking the bottom of his shaft as your focused your mouth on his red, mushroom tip. 

        He could feel his eyes roll back, a pleased sigh escaping his mouth as he rested his head back on the chair.

        “Are you okay, Andrew? Your face is pretty red.” One of the partygoers commented.

        “H-hot as hell in here with all the food.” Andrew grumbled, a dazed expression on his face as he resisted the urge to moan as you sucked on his tip.

        “You seem out of breath.” Someone commented.

        “Asthma.” Andrew quickly shrugged, his hand in your hair going to the back of your head so he can shove you more down his length, a smirk on his face as he felt you silently gag around his cock before continuing, almost rolling his eyes back as the vibration almost caused him to come.

        There was a minute left on the countdown before the New York ball drop in Times Square would drop, all while you started to lick and kiss his own balls, adoring and worshiping his cock with the same passion a faithful follower would to their god.

        In your eyes, Andrew was your everything. Nothing mattered so long as you had your boyfriend with you, who you hoped would be your husband one day. 

        And Andrew wished that day was sooner, hearing wedding bells already as you fondled and massaged his balls like it was dough. 

        One of your hands went to your red panties, moving aside the cotton so you could rub at your clit the same way Andrew would, quick and teasing all with the accuracy and pressure to get you off quick so you’d be wet enough for him to slide into.

        “Seriously, where is she? She’s gonna be the fireworks?” your elderly neighbor grumbled.

        “Touching up her makeup.” Andrew groaned while you touched up his balls.

        He probably sounded annoyed to his neighbors, but really he was just trying not to come from your mouth around his cock, bobbing your head again.

        All the neighbors gathered around the TV, leaving you and Andrew alone in the dining room. The ball on the TV dropped as everyone cheered, giving him the perfect chance to speak.

        “Good fucking girl. Take it, baby.” Andrew groaned, his eyes rolling back, a smile on his face.

        Your throat swallowed around his cock. Your tongue lapping at his tip. You hummed around his length, enjoying the pleasure of tasting his cock. One of your hands toying with your clit while the other gently squeezed his balls. All of it at once was enough for him to have his hips ramming and stuttering up into your throat, no doubt leaving a bruise in the back of your throat as his cum painted your red walls white.

        You kept sucking his member clean, refusing to stop until you felt him stop throbbing in your mouth. You finally pulled off him, tucking his cock back into his pants and giving him the chance to regain his composure as you got up from out the dining table.

        You sat down onto his lap, giggling as you saw the dazed expression on his face. His eyes were all bright and droopy, a dumb smile on his face as some drool dripped down his chin. 

        You licked up the drool, before reaching his lips and kissing him. Andrew’s hand reached up to hold your cheek, kissing you as he tasted his taste in your mouth.

        “I’ll return the favor later, baby…” he muttered, playfully tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

        You smiled, listening to the fireworks go off in the sky above you as your neighbors started filing back into the dining room.

        “Oh. You’re back! You missed the fireworks.” The elder neighbor spoke, but you had your own white fireworks going off in your mouth so you weren't upset. “I thought you were fixing your makeup?”

        Andrew looked at you, not even noticing your red face, your messy hair, your smudged red lipstick and weeping mascara. To him, you always looked beautiful, even with crying makeup.

        “Sorry. I got carried away with kissing.” Andrew shrugged, indifferent as he lied.

        “Happy New Years, hon.” You smiled, pecking Andrew’s cheek.

        “Happy New Years.” Andrew hummed, before whispering into your year for only you to hear. “Hey… You had my dick in your mouth since last year…”

I have some major respect for smut writers. It can be hard trying to find all these different descriptions and poetic words to piece together just plain sex. Hopefully you guys enjoyed my amateurish writing. There will be more smut in the future as I work on my stories!

Happy very late holidays everyone!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

[markleessodalite]

They Can Hear Us...: n.jm

content: bf!jaemin drags you to an event you don't really want to attend, so you try to devise an escape plan... but he's not one to be fooled.

warnings: fem!reader, lots and lots of kisses, maybe a tiny bit suggestive(?) but mostly just fluff, nothing else to warn about afaik

word count: 0.5k

a/n: i had a mini hoard of drabbles that i was saving to post later, but i've read over them so much to the point where now i hate every single one :/ but n e waiz i got some extra days off work this upcoming week and i'm hoping to do NOTHING but write the whole time :3 (also if you're one of the anons who sent in requests i promise i'm gonna get to those asap!!!)

“Jaemin! Stop. I mean it!” you half-heartedly scold your boyfriend, although your soft tone and light giggles clearly indicate a message that’s opposite to the words leaving your lips.

Jaemin plants another teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, are you sure?” He kisses the tip of your nose, then your cheek, making his way down your jaw and to your exposed shoulder as he laces his fingers with yours. “Seems like you kinda like it, huh? Love this dress, by the way.” His free hand rubs gentle lines along your back, with only just enough restraint to not mess up the delicate fabric of your one-shoulder gown.

You knew he loved this dress, particularly how you look in this dress, which is exactly why you wore it to this gala. You weren’t especially excited to be here, but Jaemin was over the moon eager to take you, show you off to everyone else there, his girlfriend who looks like an absolute princess under ballroom lights with her arm linked in his. Of course, you knew that after about 5 minutes of you in this dress, he wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever charity event is going on around you two– which is how you’ve found yourself hidden in an offshoot hallway, Jaemin cornering you against the wall, planting light and playful (but very obviously needy) kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

Hey, it got you out of sitting at that boring table with those boring people listening to that boring speaker, right? All part of your coy little plan.

The only sound filling your ears now is your own soft giggles against Jaemin’s low chuckles and whispers, with him now developing a game to entertain himself with: trying to find that one particular spot that will drive you crazy.

“Here?” He plants a kiss behind your ear.

“Nope.” You bite down on your lip to stifle any noise that could possibly slip through. You may be vaguely hidden, but you’re definitely still within earshot of the rest of the gala.

“Mmm. Then… here?” He hovers around the middle of your neck before leaving another kiss.

“No…” You can’t help the giggle that slips through your teeth.

“Okay… what about… here?” He leaves a kiss in the nook between the bottom of your neck and your collarbone, before biting down teasingly, drawing a squeal from you before you can catch it.

“Jaemin!” You can’t help but laugh, amused at Jaemin’s quick victory in his own game.

“Shh! Y/n, you know they can hear us…” Jaemin buries his face further in your neck, and you look over him to see the silhouettes of the other guests, turning their attention from the monotone speaker to figure out what direction the hushed giggles are coming from.

Here it is. Exactly the opportunity you need to convince him to go home.

“Then why don’t we go somewhere they can’t hear us, Jaem?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder to look in your eyes, and you know right away he sees through your little escape plan. And he’s not falling for it.

“No. I kinda like this little game. Round two? Let’s see if you can keep quiet, babe.” He smirks proudly at your shocked face before his lips crash into your neck again, and you realize he’ll play this game he’s made up for as long as this gala lasts. Can you handle Jaemin teasing you for several more hours without making a sound?

[yaut-jaknowit]

Could you do a male reader who's a gardener and often uses a cane to get around due to a disorder where they struggle to walk? And found a injured male Yautja (not picky with who, I love all of those silly bois) and end up taking care of the once injured Yauja. And maybe they fall in love? (Your choice to make it nsfw or not, I'm fine with either,) I really enjoy your writing, and I hope you have a great day/night!!

Stumble To A Fall

Pairings: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 3107

Summary: You have your own little place in the city. A small backyard just big enough for plants and flowers to grow. A little peace of heaven in your backyard. It's beautiful. As the day is coming to an end, you go to your shed to put away your tools... only to find a wounded creature inside.

Author Note: I'm gonna be honest, I was a bit unsure about writing about a disability or disorder. But, I did tweak it a little so I didn't feel like pushing any boundaries. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Ao3

Spring was in full swing. Birds chirped beautiful melodies. Flowers galore bloomed in the flower pots and plots you’ve planted around the house. The street was gloomy besides the recently, newly painted house you live in. A bright smile graced your features as you tended to the tomatoes; pulling any dead flowers off or tomatoes that were either ripe or have grown past their picking date.

A random tune hummed from your vocal cords. You deemed this planet freshened up before carefully picking yourself up with the help of your cane. Two steps to the left. Then, you gingerly lowered yourself down to a knee while the other leg stood straight out. The nerves in it have been shot for a long time since a near fatal car accident when you were young. This is how you lived now.

Once this plant had been thoroughly plucked through, you returned to a standing position and stretched out your back. Multiple joints along your spine popped with the move. A satisfied groan fell from your lips before you turned and strolled over to the shed.

Other items were pulled out. The tools you had currently used were placed back in their respectful spots. You returned back to garden with a hose and some bug killer treats. Anything to kill the stupid slugs trying to consume your cucumbers and pumpkins. You didn’t know why they had such a problem with those!

It irritated you to no end. It’s as if they knew. The little buggers had to know and came in large grooves, trying to kill off your plants one by one. You have been struggling for a while to get a hand on them. From soft deterrents to now what you consider was extreme. Pesticide. It’s not that you wanted to kill the insects, but they were destroying everything in their path. Your precious plants.

The sun was falling in the sky by the time you finished up spraying the pesticide. Next, you began to water any thirsty planets. Any spots you missed along the way, you tidied up and ensured your garden was in tip top shape by the time you made your way back to the shed. The hose was rolled up and hung from its holder next to the shed door. Before ending the day, you closed and locked the shed door. Then, you headed inside to prep dinner.

Songs poured from the old radio sitting on the counter. The oven was firing away at a lovely roast you were cooking up. You hummed along to the beat and set up the dining table with a drink, utensils, and condiments. Other snacks like vegetables were placed on the table as well.

As the last of the items were put on the table, you happened to glance out the window that faced your backyard. You did a double take. The sun had fallen below the horizon and left little light to fill the sky. It was dark enough to notice a trail of bright green splotches to mar your stone pathway. All the way to shed. Its door was slightly cracked open.

You remember locking it.

A hard lump grew in your throat. Your heart began to thunder in your ears, pounding against its bony cage. If someone was trying to steal your tools… The thought broke your heart. All your hard work, months of saving for everything you had. You gritted your teeth and snatched up your cane.

By the front door, you picked up a baseball bat and marched towards the back door. No one was stealing anything of yours. Not if you have anything to say about it.

The door was ripped nearly off its hinges as you raced out into the back yard. One hand gripping the bat while the other rapidly moved your cane to keep up. Pain raced up your bad leg, as if trying to slow you down. Yet, you used it fuel your rage for looters.

“Who the hell is in my shed?!” you shouted at the top of your lungs then reached the shed door. With the bat, you used it to pushed the door open. Then, you held the bat up, ready to wield it on the poor soul who dares to break in.

The lack of light makes you blind everything besides the neon green substance that stained the inside of the area. You squinted and leaned forward, as if that would help you. Then, you saw two bright yellow eyes peering at you from the darkness. Glowing almost as bright as the green stuff.

A gasp tears at your throat. In a panic, you stumble backwards. The heel of your good foot catches on the ledge of a stone brick. With a surprised cry, you land on your butt hard. You hissed and clutched the bat and cane tightly in your hands.

Pain surged up the length of your spine. You squint through the agony to see the eyes growing taller and taller. You make a noise of surprise before trying to scramble away. Only for a large, dark hand to wrap around the ankle of your bad leg. A hiss sounds from lips when that pulled on your damaged nerves.

Fear crawled up the back of your throat as you saw this humanoid figure step out into the full moon light. It’s bright, vibrant eyes pinned on your trembling form. It easily towered over you with a fierce look that filled its gaze. You felt your heart lodge its way into your throat as you could only lay on the stone path, trembling.

Neon green fluid leaked down its powerful frame. Muscles corded its strong body. You pushed down the lump and finally took in a breath.

Both the bat and cane were dropped off to the sides. Its gaze jumped to each item at they fell away from your body. The tension that gripped its entire frame slightly eased away. That didn’t make it move away from you. It continued to stare down at you, sizing you up like a predator would do to its prey.

“U-uh, um… What, what are you?” you sputtered out, unable to look away from it. It captured your entire attention. Nothing could draw you away from its powerful gaze. It looked to be thinking. Was it weighing if it was reasonable to kill you? It looked like it could easily do that.

With the limited light offered to you by the moon, you were finally able to notice the details of its… inhuman features. Mandibles tipped with sharp, white fangs that looked like they could pull your jugular out twitched when you spoke. Four them covered its mouth with more teeth. There was nothing you could do to stop it if it wanted to attack you.

After a long time, you finally realize the green liquid dripping down its body was its blood. Clearly, whatever it was, wasn’t from here. Not from earth.

“You’re injured,” you stated the facts as if it didn’t know of its own situation. One of its upper mandibles twitched. “I have supplies. I can help you.” Does the alien even understand you? You were using a soft voice like you would do to a scared animal. “I don’t mean harm.”

The unknown creature snorted. It was a very human reaction. But it understood you! Possibly. You think.

“Please?”

Its shoulders sagged. The weight of its decision finally rolling off of them. You took it as a sign to unsteadily get back to your feet with the help of your cane. The creature’s bright eyes quickly snapped to the wooden stick in your hand. “It’s not a weapon. I have to have it to walk,” you explained to it and timidly demonstrated its use to the creature.

Once it deems you safe enough to continue, you slowly lead it into the safety of your dwelling. It pauses at the entrance, eyes dancing this way and that before stepping in. A very cautious being, you internally noted.

Despite its large feet, it stepped behind you on the hardwood floor was silent. If it wasn’t for the fact that you knew it was there, you wouldn’t have known at all. Not even its heavy presence that seemed to consume the entire space of your house.

You lead it to the bathroom where a first aid kit was stowed underneath the cabinet. Its broad form takes up the entire doorway behind you as you placed the kit on the counter. A quick look from the corner of your eye has you darting your gaze back to the box. “Uh… you can have a set. On the tub edge.”

Now with light, you see its skin wasn’t skin. Scales. Lizard scales, soft by the looks of them. Said scales were a dull purple. Hints of moss green covered the sides of its body and the outer sides of its arms. Thick, grey tresses hung from its dome shaped head. The thing was powerful looking, terrifying in the least. And, you had now let it into your home.

Another snort escapes its inhuman mouth. It grabs the kit straight from your hands and walks back through the house, taking the same path. You scrambled to follow after it once getting over your shock.

“Where are you going?!” you asked in hurry as the figure stalked back through your house and into back yard once more. Your cane wobbled in your grip as you scrambled to keep up. Was it just going to take the kit and scurry off? You… you wanted to make sure it didn’t die at the very least. Nothing deserved to die.

It continued to move through your small back yard. Black, inky darkness washed over its broad frame. The shed became its new home. You stood there, panting slight as you watch it close the door in your door.

Stunned, you gingerly turned around and moped back to the kitchen, confused about this whole situation. The roast was pulled from the oven pipping hot. The smell filled the small space and brought your spirit back up. As you plated some food, you couldn’t help but think back to what just happened. Did it just happen? Or did you just imagine it?

Another plate was filled with some roast, bread, and vegetables. You carried it out to the shed and lightly knocked on the door. All you could hear was the soft rustling inside.

“Hey… um, I brought you some food if you’re hungry?” A few seconds of silence passed. With a sigh, you set down the plate before the door before returning to the kitchen. Maybe in the morning you’ll find out if you’re crazy or not. You gazed out of the kitchen window and saw the plate still there. A slight ache pained your heart. You had hoped maybe it had grabbed it.

You sat down at the dinner table and had your meal. Your phone set off to the side as you scrolled randomly through social media. It wasn’t long before you finished up and returned to the kitchen. You began to clean up the meal and randomly glanced out the window.

A small smile broke across your features. The plate had disappeared from in front of the shed door.

This had become a daily occurrence.

Everyday, when you were home, you would make a second plate. A jug of water set out with the food. When he would finish off the jug, he’d set the jug out with an empty plate. You go out to pick lunch’s plate and set down dinner and a new, fresh water for him. A simple two knock on the shed door to let him know it was ready for him.

As you turned your back towards the shed, a familiar creak behind you made you pause mid step. All of your muscles froze. You didn’t dare to turn around and face him. That may scare him off, back into the darkness of the shed. A lump grew in your throat as you just stood there, waiting for him to retreat back into the safety of his new home. But, the door doesn’t close afterwards. Not in a timely manner. You timidly turned around with the help of your cane and see a wall of muscles standing there. You had to close off your throat to stop a yelp from sounding from you.

Purple scales covered the alien from head to toe. You couldn’t help but let your gaze roam over his form. “Uh… hi, um. W-what can you do for you?” you asked him in a quiet voice and kept your gaze anywhere besides his eyes. You could feel them piercing your skin.

A deep grumble came from his chest. A chest so close that you felt the vibrations without touching him. “Look… up,” he orders and demands your attention. Your muscles tensed up at his words. The lump in your throat was forced down before you tilted your head up. Slowly, you met his intense gaze and felt like a deer in headlights. Standing before a creature that had the chance to kill you. Easily.

“Shower. Bathe.” Oh! You perked up and dipped your head.

“That’s what you wanted?” From this position, you weren’t able to see his injuries. White gauze covered where he must be hurt though. It had been a week since he first showed up. “Yeah, just-just follow me.” You carefully turned around with your cane and slowly made your way back into the house. The purple alien followed after you like a shadow.

Through the halls of your small home, you lead him to the only bathroom. Each doorway he had to go through, the beast had to duck to fit. The height difference only becoming more apparent with him so close. You stopped in front of the bathroom door and motioned towards it. “Well, here you go. I probably don’t have any clothes that fit you unfortunately.”

None of your clothing will be able to fit his size. He gazed down at you then glanced towards the bathroom. “No issue.” Then, he moves around you and into the bathroom, ducking down. The door closes behind him. You stand there while looking at the door for a few seconds, gathering you feeling about this whole situation. Then, you decided to head to the living room and wait for him. Just encase he may need something from you.

The T.V played something random as you watched a show. You weren’t even paying much attention to it. You had become too drawn into your own thoughts. All revolving around the alien who was currently taking a shower… in your apartment. What has your life become? That reminds you, you don’t know his name.

Where did he come from? How far away from home is he? What’s his life like? Oh, god. What had hurt him? That’s a question that you needed to ask him. What in the world could hurt a beast like him? Was there another creature like him out there? Here on earth with him. Why did they attack each other?

And would they come back?

It wasn’t the click of a door or the footsteps that alerted you to someone approaching you. A figure stood in front of the T.V. The sight finally drawing you out of your thoughts. You refocused your vision on the purple form standing before you. Only to slap a hand over your face with a loud gasp.

“You’re naked!” you screeched and kept your hand over your eyes. The soft footfalls of the creature announced he grew closer. Heat flushed to your cheeks. Yeah, you didn’t have any clothes for him but… you weren’t expecting him to coming out naked. At least a towel until you could wash his clothes or something!

“Yes,” is his simple answer. Though, he did seem to struggle with English though. “What the problem?” There was clearly a difference between the two cultures at that. You timidly lowered your hand and glanced at him. Your eyes flickering back to the ground and him a few times. Seeing things you… weren’t expecting.

One being the fact there wasn’t anything between his legs. Your eyes snapped back to him only realize how insensitive that was and looked back to the ground. “Humans… humans don’t walk around naked. It’s seen as-it’s just bad.” You didn’t know how to explain it to him. It’s just is. You were raised to see nakedness outside of intimacy as wrong. Clearly, his kind didn’t have that.

All you got in return was a grunt.

You cleared your throat and found his stunning, yellow eyes. “I’ve been meaning to ask: what’s your name?” After a week, you feel like you should know it by now. If he’ll let you.

His piercing gaze studied you thoroughly. It felt like he was looking directly into your soul, trying to figure out if you deserved to know. He must have found what he was looking for.

“Uihoy.” The first thought was how alien it was. It wasn’t a name that would easily roll off your tongue. You tilted your head to the side, brow furrowed. One his upper mandibles quirked up into a human-like smirk. He read the look on your face like an open book.

“I will… learn how to say that,” you told him. “As for clothing, why don’t you give me the dirty ones and I can clean them for you.” A minute pause as your eyes scanned over him. “So, you’re not naked anymore. For the time being, do you mind wearing a towel? I feel rude each time I accidently glance at you.” After the third time, you don’t know if you could call it an accident then. You realize your actions and flushed deeply afterwards.

In an instant, you got off of the couch and slipped past him. “Don’t worry! I’ll just grab them myself.” He lets you go without much of a complaint and watches you though. Uihoy takes a seat on the couch you once sat at, arms spread out across the back of the couch. You were quick to grab the brown shorts he had been wearing and scrambled to the laundry room.

Once in the safety of the room, you leaned against the washing machine and placed a hand over your mouth. What is wrong with you?! With a few deep breaths, you threw the piece of cloth in the washing machine and started it. One last calming breath. You left the laundry room. You couldn’t hide in here forever.