#(it was raining so I’m not mad at them for not wanting to take out orders 💀)

[worm-in-a-trenchcoat]

I had two gay panics today at two different places, but because of the same person 😭

[eddiesxangel]

Angel or Devil? | E.M x Reader

Anonymous asked: Could i request a fic where reader comes home pissed off and angry fucks eddie and hes hooked on it so he keeps trying to annoy her or asks her how work was ect to get her riled up so she they can fuck each others brains out, her dirty talk gets filthy when shes mad and eddie realizes he likes it mean

wc: 2.7k

cw: f!reader/mean!reader, Sub/switch Eddie, dirty talk, sex toys, slight choking, female masturbation, pussy eating, p in v, cream pie. Slightly proofread… so if you see a spelling error no you didn’t… (ง •̀_•́)ง

Eddie’s head snapped up when the sound of the front door slamming shook him out of focus. You must have had a bad day because you never slam things.

Timidly, Eddie put his guitar down and walked out of the bedroom into your living room to see you slam your purse on the floor; you don’t bother to unzip your boots; you rip them off your feet and whip off your drenched coat. That’s also when he sees the crazed look in your eyes behind your soaked hair sticking to your face. Today was not your day.

“Sunshine-“

“Don’t,” you point a finger up at him; you don’t want to hear a word from your boyfriend right now.

“But-“

“No. Shut up.” You make your way to the bedroom to wash your rain-soaked clothes.

Eddie followed you apprehensively. His gut told him to give you space, but his heart needed to ensure his sunshine was okay.

“Eddie.” You huffed. He had followed you.

He wasn’t listening to you. That’s all you wanted was something to listen to you. Nobody had taken the time to hear you out at work, and to make matters worse, the barista messed up your order, causing you to be late for your team meeting. Then, to top it off, you missed your bus. Thinking that a walk might help clear your head, you set off, only to be interrupted by the ominous crack of thunder in the sky. Instead of tears, you felt a surge of rage building inside you. All you desired was some sense of control in a day that seemed spiralling out of your grasp.

“Baby,” Eddie cooed again, stocking the back of your soaked hair.

You huffed in annoyance again. He wasn’t listening, so you decided to push him down in the bed.

“Woah, baby, I’m sorry-“

You cut him off as you climbed on top of him and shut him up with a kiss. Maybe now you could be in control.

With eyes wide, Eddie didn’t know what to do, but as you gripped at his clothes, signalling to get naked, he soon realized.

Eddie didn’t understand where this came from, but who was he to question? His lady needs to take out her frustration on him and who was he to deny her? He was just but a humble servant.

“You’re taking too long,” you groan, sitting up and taking off your soaked clothes.

“It’s okay, baby, I got you. Don’t worry, Teddy will make it better.”

“God, do you always talk this much? Shut up and eat my pussy”

Eddie was stunned. His eyes were wide, yet your words went straight to his cock. You never spoke to him this way before, but he liked it. He liked you a little mean.

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, and you give him the biggest eye roll Eddie couldn’t miss; he moaned as he connected his lips with your pussy.

With a hand gripped tightly in his hair, he was determined to make you cum asap. He had to service his girl; you demanded it. It was the sexiest thing Eddie had ever been witness to… not that you weren’t sexy every other time, but something had been unlocked in Eddie’s brain, and he didn’t want to give it up.

A feral groan leaves your throat, and Eddie can’t help but moan once again into your pussy, knowing it drives you crazy.

Your hips are grinding into his face. Usually, he would have you pinned down, but having you use him solely for your pleasure was getting Eddie off just as much.

Within minutes, you were falling apart on Eddie’s tongue and fingers. Your body shook beneath him, and you finally felt some relief.

“There you go, baby. That's it, let it go.”

With a deep sigh, you get up and walk to the bathroom without a word.

Eddie was stunned. You used him …and he liked it.

When you got out of the shower, it was like you were a different person, like the rage demon was fucked right out of you, and you had forgotten how angry you were and also how you had just left Eddie to take care of himself.

You came out, giving Eddie a big hug and a kiss like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. You told him about your day while he cooked you dinner and spent the evening snuggling on the couch.

It’s been two weeks since you stormed home that evening, and Eddie was doing everything in his power to get you to retake control, but you were not biting.

He got excited when you would make a move first, but then you fell into old habits, and he would be the one to take charge. So Eddie was doing everything in his power to piss you off.

He didn’t want to, but he needed to trigger that inner dominatrix that was hidden deep inside.

Lately, you couldn't figure out what had come over Eddie, but his behavior was really starting to bother you. He seemed to be constantly leaving the cupboard doors wide open, choosing to immerse himself in video games instead of addressing household chores. Despite promising to tidy up, he never followed through. His socks and underwear were strewn across our shared bedroom floor, and on top of everything, he seemed to be avoiding any meaningful conversation during dinner.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” You glare at him, as he doesn’t even signal that he heard you.

You've had enough of this immature behavior. You don’t understand why you're being ignored, but you've reached your limit.

“Eddie!” You slam your fork down on the table, and finally, he looks at you.

You quickly stand up, and the chair screeches against the parquet flooring. Eddie’s big brown eyes grow wider and darker as you approach his side of the table.

This was it, he thought; he’d cracked the code.

“What is your problem?” Your hands were on your hips. He thought you looked so cute when you tried being all authoritative.

“Dont know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Eddie shrugged nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?”

“You have something to say, baby? Come on, tell me.” His tone was condescending and taunting.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“So. Am. I.” He stands, getting closer with each word. He towers over you, but you don’t care; you’re too pissed off to be intimidated.

“What is your problem!” You scream.

“I don’t have a problem, sweet thing.” He shrugs, his voice cool as a cucumber.

This only pissed you off further. He was so good at pushing your buttons, and you were falling for it unknowingly.

Your face was scrunched up and he thought it was the cutest thing he couldn’t help but hide a smirk and you caught it.

“You want to try that again?” you ask. Your faces were centimetres apart, and he could smell the fire brooding within you.

Hook, line, and sinker.

God, you were infuriated with him, but you never wanted him more badly than right now. You act on instinct and flung yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around him and kissing him harshly, so much so your lips would be bruised by the time you’re done with him.

“There she is”

“Shut up.” Your hands are all over one another, and Eddie is reeling from your actions. Finally, his little minx had come out to play.

You forced your way over to the living room, not ever breaking the kiss until you pushed Eddie off of you and down onto sofa.

“Tell what you want; I’m yours to use.” he smiles, and you can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Is that what this was all about?” you scan his body, his hard cock prominent in his sweatpants. “You like it when I’m mean?” You’re annoyed still but also turned on. Your Eddie likes it when you’re in control.

A wave of excitement washes through you at the realization that all of this was actually to get your attention.

“You like when I dom you, Teddy? Is that it?” Your voice sickly sweet as you run your hands up his thighs until you reach the crease of his hips but don’t go any further, only teasing him more.

“Yes,” he nodded his head rapidly.

A rush of arousal floods your panties.

“Good boy.”

Eddie throws his head back and reaches to palm his cock, but you swat his hand away.

“No,” you stay stern. “This is my cock”

Eddie’s head snapped back up, and you could see in his eyes that he liked your words.

“Who’s cock does this belong to?” You ask as your hand slinks down into his pants, gripping at the base.

“Me.” He smirks. He wants you to be meaner.

“Okay,” you say, standing up and walking away.

“Okay?” Eddie is dumbfounded as you leave him alone on the couch. It takes a few seconds before he gets up to follow you into the bedroom, where he sees you’re pulling out your dildo.

“What are you doing?” He asks, disappointed that you left him.

“Since you don’t think I own your cock, I’m going to use the one I bought to get me off instead.” You shrug before stripping down fully and spreading your legs open to play with yourself in front of Eddie.

“Fuuuuuuuuck, baby.” Eddie came crawling, but you stopped him with an outreached foot to his forehead.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked with a raised brow.

“Oh-I uh-“

“oh, you uh,” mocked back, and Eddie didn’t think he could get any harder.

“You are going to sit back over there and watch only, like a good little boy. If you touch yourself, I stop.”

“Baby! What? No, that’s so mean,” He pouts.

“You wanted to mean, baby; you’re getting mean.”

Eddie bit his fist and sat back obediently; never in his wildest dreams did he think you would be so confident in this newfound role.

You spread open your legs and work your fingers through your slick folds, not breaking eye contact. You can’t help but smirk when you bring the dildo to your lips, putting on a show by sucking and drowning the head with your saliva, showing exactly what you would have done to Eddie if he had complied earlier.

You hear a throaty moan from Eddie as you watch his face scrunch and his fists tighten into balls as if he were in physical pain from watching you. The way you pop the toy off your lips and slowly drag it down to your weeping hole had Eddie’s cock twitched.

You finally break eye contact when you watch yourself insert the dilo into your wet pussy before you let your head fall back into the pillow.

“Oh yes!” your hips gyrate into your thursts as you put in a show for Eddie.

You exaggerate, for Eddie’s sake. Of course, it would never feel as good as him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You evil woman”

You snap your eyes back to Eddie and smirk.

“Fuck it feels so good!” “God it’s just so big” “yes yes yes!”

Moan after moan of pleasure leaves your lips as your free hand explores your breast, squeezing it and playing with your nipple before moving down to your clit.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to run through your body; having Eddie watch you, at your mercy, was enough to fuel the orgasm, let alone the thick, veiny pink dildo that was spreading you wide open, hitting you just right with each pump.

Your pussy clamps down onto the dildo that’s deep inside of you, cuming all over it as you shake with pleasure. You don’t even hear Eddie moan as he bites his fist, trying so hard to behave and listen to your orders.

Your cum floods out of you as you slowly pull it out with a pop.

“Come here and clean it up,” You demand, and Eddie dives head first to your pussy, but you quickly close your legs, and Eddie pouts those beautiful full pink lips at you.

“This first,” You smirk, handing him the dildo you just used that’s coated in your cum.

Eddie’s eyes go wide in shock, but he takes the toy and places it in his mouth. His eyes roll back at the taste of you, and he licks and deep-throats it.

The thrill of watching Eddie place the used dildo in his mouth as he sucks it off only makes your pussy flood once again. Your hands play with your nipples as you slowly open your legs for him.

The second Eddie sees your knees parting, he tosses the dildo to the floor, and before you can command anything, his lips attach to your pussy in an instant.

“That’s right, you’re just a little cum slut aren’t you?” you can’t believe the words are leaving your lips, and neither can Eddie, but he ruts his hips against the mattress as the filthy words fill the room.

“I see you, baby. Can’t even wait five minutes without needing to pay attention to your cock” You try not to stutter as Eddie works his tongue inside your tight hole, cleaning up the remnants of cum. You watch as Eddie pops his ass up and down as he tries to get himself off, but you can’t have that, not yet.

“Stop,” You command, and Eddie doesn’t know what action you’re referring to, so he stops everything completely.

He looks up at you with those big doe eyes, mouth agape and shiny with your cum, and you almost crack a smile, but you keep your composure.

You shuffle to your knees and instruct Eddie to lie down in place of where you just were and lean over him.

“Now, baby, I’m going to ask you again. Who’s cock is this?” You slowly drag a single digit, hardly touching the soft skin of his shaft, from the base to tip and back down again. His cock was more than ready, he was so thick and long. The tip was red, and was leaking out so much precum. If you didn’t know any better, you maybe would have thought he had come already.

“Yours” He doesn’t hesitate; he needs to cum; he needs to feel your pussy around him.

“Good boy,” you say, taking your finger away so you can hook a leg over his hip and straddle him.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson.” Eddie swallows.

“Oh, is that right?” your hand slowly makes its way up Eddie’s thick throat and lands at the base of his jaw. You squeeze it ever so gently at first but slowly tighten your grip as you sink down onto his cock.

Your small hand doesn’t do anything to hurt Eddie, but the feeling of it there had Eddie pushing his hips up into you roughly.

You let out a maon of pleaser as he hits your G-spot and doesn’t stop. Thrust after thrust, Eddie has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and he will not stop until he has his way with you.

“Think you’re in control now, baby? Got you so cock drunk you can’t even speak.”

No longer did you care about being in control. Eddie was making you see stars.

“Don’t think your little toy had you feeling this good, huh?” he gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you know there will be a bunch of tiny bruises in the morning.

“Ohhhhh, Teddy!,” You scream as your second orgasm rips through you without warming. Eddie’s hips jackhammer up into you as you ride out your orgasm, and Eddie chases his. He flips you over and pushes your legs up into your chest so he can watch himself disappear into your tight little cunt.

“Fucking made f’me.” his hips snap once, twice, three times more until he spills himself inside of you.

You feel Eddie’s weight collapse on you, his heavy body limp.

“Holy shit” You breathe in the revelation of what just happened. “Was that our best sex ever, or am I dreaming?” You whisper.

“I think you broke me, baby,” Eddie moans as he doesn’t want to leave your warm wet pussy.

“That confirms it, best sex ever.” You raise his hand so you can give him a high five before his limp arm falls back down on the bed.

You can’t help but giggle, and Eddie shoots out of you, complaining it’s too sensitive to squeeze his cock anymore.

“Teddy?”

“mhm?”

“Next time you want me to take charge, just ask. I’m not keeping a messy home because you wanna get freaky.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes before he rolls your body into his so you can fall asleep in his arms.

Tagging some moots who might be interested 🫣: @xxbimbobunnyxx @bimbotrashcan @usergeta @loserboysandlithium

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[novemberheart]

{overview} Your pack comes home

{warnings} fem reader, cursing, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, chapter story, short chapter, fighting, slight angst

Chapter 36 <- Chapter 37 -> Chapter 38

“John I”-

“Get in now,” he growled lowly. You swallowed, holding Vernie closer in comfort. Kyle stayed by the car opening the door for you. Both of them were being pelted by rain. You swore you could see steam coming off of them.

“Kyle,” you started. He nodded his head towards the car, urging you along. You crawled in, already shedding your backpack off. The car was warm, infested with the putrid smell of an angry alpha. The door shut behind you, Kyle and John getting in the front.

This wasn't the reunion you had expected.

You could probably say the same for them.

Your eyes locked on the rearview mirror, hoping to catch John’s gaze. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, the only sound being some labored breathing and rain snapping against the military-grade vehicle. You chewed your bottom lip, angling yourself towards Kyle.

You wanted to touch him.

You refrained.

The car came to another screeching halt, both men getting out. John opened the door for you this time. He refused to look at you. It was in the elevator when you started to crack. You resisted the urge to throw yourself at John, instead curling against the elevator wall.

“Go take a shower and get warm,” John commanded, opening the front door. Johnny and Simon were at the counter. You whimpered low in your throat, Johnny’s face curling At the sound. Simon was looking at you.

His eyes were completely unreadable beside the glimmer of dissatisfaction. He didn’t even seem angry. Maybe John was angry enough for the both of them.

You couldn’t bear it.

You latched onto Simon first, loud sobs wracking your body. He was stiff under you for a moment, before melting against you. It was biological.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbled, lips rough against your raw cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, your claws tearing the thick layers covering his shoulder. He pulled away, his hand resting against your stomach to keep distance between the two of you.

“Go shower. We’ll talk then,” he commanded. You sniffled, nodding in agreement. You picked Vernie off the floor heading towards the bathroom to get her dried off. You shedded your clothes, opening the bathroom door just enough for Vernie to slip back through. She immediately paddled over to Johnny who hoisted her up, his nose resting against her scruff.

She smelled like you.

The bathroom door opened while you were in the shower, Kyle’s arm darting in to drop off a few clothes before closing.

They couldn’t be that mad.

Maybe the fact you had been separated so long was working in your favor.

They were sitting on the couch when you came out. It was eerily quiet, all of them sitting up straight upon your arrival.

“I want you to start with your visit to the medical center,” John spoke, leading as always. You decided to settle on the floor, the carpet plush under your knees.

“You were looking at my chip?” You questioned.

“Of course. That’s why we got it,” He replied instantly.

You had them right where you wanted.

“You had time to do that but none to call me?” You shot back. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been marked. No effort is needed anymore,” you grumbled.

They didn’t like that.

Well, neither did you.

The hairs on your neck stood up at the sound of their low growls. It was like they did it unintentionally, immediately cutting themselves off as you shrunk back.

“Laswell had access to it,” Kyle spoke. “She’d keep us updated. We weren’t in a position to contact you,” Kyle explained. It felt condescending. Like all of them were confused as to the point you were trying to make.

“I don’t believe you,” you replied bluntly. “Before you were able to contact me every few days at least then all of a sudden that changed?” You questioned.

“Yes,” Simon interjected. “Calling you would lead to risks and put you in danger.”

“You could’ve sent a message through Laswell,” you argued.

“We couldn't,” Simon affirmed. “You're just going to have to understand that,” Simon barked, moving to a stand. Your face curled, your body following close behind. You rested your chin against your knees. John sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Why’d you go to the medical center?” John pressed. His voice was softer, resembling your alpha.

“I fell earlier this week. I thought it was okay but it started to look infected. I got it taken care of.”

They hated how monotone you sounded.

“Went by yourself?” Johnny spoke up. You knew he would have the biggest problem with you going through something like that alone.

“No one was here,” you spat back.

John stood up and Simon spun on his heels. Both of them opened their mouths to speak. John was able to get the words out faster.

“Stop actin’ like you weren't taken care of,” he growled. “Yes, you were alone, and I did everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen, but you were safe here. We made sure you had enough to last you for three times the amount of time we were supposed to be gone. It may not feel like it sometimes but everything we do is for you, even things you don't quite see,” he finished with a shaky breath.

“Really? So sitting in a hospital room alone, absolutely terrified of what's wrong with me is you taking care of me?”

“Course not,” he shot back. “I hate that you had to go through that and were without the people that are supposed to make things alright for you. But you understood what would happen if you joined this pack. I’ll put you first- no matter what- but it can't always be instant,” he spoke through a clenched jaw.

You could feel yourself softening by the minute.

You hated it.

You weren't ready to just get over it.

They had cut you off like it was nothing. Even now they sat before you showing very little signs of actually missing you. Maybe they were still angry at you for leaving the base.

“Can I go to bed now?” you asked quietly.

“No,” Simon responded. “The hell were you thinking leaving base?”

“Self sabotage?” you shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to get back at all of you for leaving me for so long. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I could actually do something. Maybe I wanted to see if it would make you come home,” you choked, turning your head over your shoulder.

They remained silent.

This was unbearable. Your eyes red and swollen. The sting of lemons in the air. Your knotted hair.

All because of them.

And their fucking jobs.

“Should bloody ‘retire’ after this,” John growled, taking a large puff of his cigar. Nothing sounded better at the moment. Two weeks away from you hitting him like a truck. He could retire from the field and resign himself to paperwork. He’d get the two of you a house with some land for you and Vernie to run around. Take you into town for dates. Take you out on the lake and teach you how to fish. He’d grill every night and the two of you would end each night looking at the stars.

His radio going off snapped him out of his thoughts.

Simon groaned at his headache, popping another pill in his mouth. They were some form of suppressants. It was supposed to make being away from you easier. Those who had insisted they worked obviously didn't have an omega like you.

“Right behind you,” Simon nearly chuckled.

He wasn't quite ready to retire yet. He still had some fight in him. But he had underestimated just how much you had domesticated him. The thought of stretching out in a recliner with you propped on his lap was far more compelling than this.

The betas had been worse off. Johnny had been acting like a zombie since day four. His fingers are constantly rolling the bracelet you had made him between his fingers. Kyle was just prick. Growing more and more frustrated each time he was denied access to you, whether by phone or through tracking. At least they had Laswell.

They had to persevere.

The enemy was lurking around. Waiting for one slip up. One thing to hold over their head.

What better thing than you?

“Don’t do it again,” John chided coldly. You wiped your eyes against your shoulder, nodding.

“Can I go to bed now?” You repeated, even softer than before. “All of you are tired too,” you added, already moving to a stand.

Their brows furrowed as you made your way towards your door.

Your mattress was still in John’s room from your heat. There had been no reason to move it back.

Had you moved it back?

“Fat fucking chance,” Johnny growled, connecting the distance. “Just got back from a month of hell and I’d rather die than sleep alone,” he gruffed. “That’s the only way you could get me to sleep alone,” he added. His hands found your waist, easily lifting you up. A small moan escaped you at the contact, your body begrudgingly aching for his touch. He purred roughly, his nose buried in your neck. His hand twisted the knob to your room. You hadn’t moved anything back. John breathed a sigh of relief.

“What were you going to do? Sleep on the floor?” John questioned.

“I want to be by myself,” you breathed, your legs trying to touch the ground.

“You’ve been by yourself enough,” Kyle piqued up. “In that head of yours,” he murmured the last part. You were tossed on the bed, the sheets cold and uninviting. The pit in your stomach only grew, your face hiding itself in the pillows. Johnny flopped down next to you, Kyle following suit. John and Simon remained in the doorway, Simon disappearing towards his room.

You were sandwiched between the two betas, which was all you had wanted the past few weeks. Now you wanted anything else.

“Some forced proximity will do you good,” Kyle sighed, his arm tossed over you and Johnny. You remained silent and still, breathing in the familiar scent of your nest. It smelt like you. No traces of your pack embedded within its fibers. It wasn’t theirs anymore. It was yours.

It was yours.

They were infringing on your territory.

A nasty snarl escaped you, causing both betas to take a scoot back.

“Bonbon?” Johnny breathed. The sound could’ve rivaled an alphas. Their stomach churned, John shifting on his feet. The noise echoing in his brain, his alpha on fight mode. Something had frightened you. His eyes shrunk, looking for a threat.

The air escaping his lungs when he realized.

They were the threats.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his mouth tangy from copper.

“Give ‘er space you two,” he commanded. “Now,” his voice urgent. The betas crawled out slowly, their eyes pleading- their eyes waiting. Waiting for you to whine and usher them back into bed. Pleading for you to seek comfort in them. Instead they got your back, your scent increasing in the air to drown out theirs. John grabbed them both by the arm, pulling them towards the door.

They felt a wave of relief when you stood up, face downcast as you headed towards the door. Johnny extended his arm, ready to meet you in the middle. That was quickly replaced with dread when it shut in their faces.

Hi friends! 👋See you in four days for chapter 38! As always lots of love 🧡

[yung-notorious]

8 WORDS WHEN I THINK ABOUT US IS FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME! — ♡

— crammed up in the backseat of his car, he just can’t get enough of you — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, never lose me chapter 4, unestablished situationship, rough makeup sex, latenight drives, fast food drive-thru’s, hotboxing, unprotected sex, car sex, blowjobs, fingering, squirting, begging, almost cream pie, gojo’s character is questionable. notes. word count 8k, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. read entire work here on ao3. comments likes reblogs all appreciated 💕

You’re pissed honestly, all the way fed up with Sukuna and his stank ass attitude. You’d be FaceTiming the group chat right now telling them what just happened if they weren’t out drunk off their asses. But you can't, so someone is going to have to hear your mouth and it’s going to be Satoru whether he likes it or not. You’re not playing this time, enough is enough.

You don’t even bother signing out before you push through the front lobby doors, the security guard is too busy on his phone to notice you leave and by the time he does he doesn't have the energy in him to stop you. You’ll get an email from housing if he cares enough to report you. It's not like that shits going to affect you in any way though, you don’t even live on campus. Yeah you might get suspended from staying over his dorm if it happens again but at this point you don’t ever want to come back up here again.

It’s dark when you make it outside, chilly with light rain hitting your face and you can’t see which car he’s in with there being a few other cars parked out front with their bright ass LED headlights blinding you. There’s people shuffling out of each one, likely getting dropped off from the bars and you hate having to stand here looking around searching for him.

You take your phone out to text him to ask what car he’s in and not even a second later a car horn honks…you turn to look, and out of all these cars parked up of course he’d be the one in the Audi. You had a feeling he came from money with the girls coming from a private high school, but you were too busy trying to see through the Honda’s and Kia’s, you didn’t even consider him to be in that car.

Walking over, you pull on the passenger side door handle and hop in putting your backpack down. The bottom of your sneaks are wet and you feel icky having them touch the floor.

“You got down here quic–”, he moves towards you in an attempt to sling an arm around and pull you into a hug but you jerk back pushing him away.

“Aht aht, no.”

“What’s the matter with you?” He pulls back. You don’t miss the slight irritation in his voice either. He’s probably confused as hell. One minute you’re hot the next you’re cold, then you’re hot again, you can’t even blame him if he’s mad you’re coming in his car with an attitude.

“Your friend…” you start off, and it’s taking the strength of Joseline off Zeus Network to not start cussing and that’s one strong bitch to hold back from.

“What?” You hate how confused he sounds, he should already know what you’re about to say.

“You need to get him, like dead ass. I’m tired of his mouth.”

“Who?”

“Sukuna!”

“He said something to you?”

“Yes! This is like the second time too.” You throw your hands up in annoyance and he sucks his teeth at that. No shit he said something dummy, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking if he hadn’t.

“What he do now?” He leans back manspreading, like the conversation is already boring him. As if you fussing isn’t worth his time. You really don’t know him well enough to be getting hype and for damn sure don’t know what it takes to piss him off. He might have made a couple smart comments before, but up until now he’s been so patient with you…you probably shouldn’t be picking a fight. But you go on anyway…

“He keeps getting smart with me.”

“Saying what?”

“He came in saying some, fuck you doing here, when he saw me. Like who the fuck does he think he is talking to me like that?”

“I told you to stay in my room, did you say anything back?”

“Of course!”

“Then why are you so upset? It sounds to me like you already handled it.”

“Satoru…yo!” You can’t help but laugh…because oh my god…he doesn't know how fast shit can flip when it comes to you.

“Get your friend…” You start off bluntly, because shits really not a joke anymore.

“Like for real. Because I got an uncle back home that don’t play about me an—”, he cuts you off.

“I asked you the other day if you want me to say something to him and you said it wasn’t that deep. I asked you twice, didn't I?”

“Okay! But that’s ‘cause I didn’t think it was gonna become a problem. Now for whatever reason, he has an issue with me. I don’t know what for, but I know one thing, I don't take disrespect. So y’all both can do whatever y’all want with that information.”

“See, I can tell you don’t have brothers. You’re really mad over that little thing he said?”

“Satoru!” You can’t stress his name enough. What’s not clicking?

“Get your friend please! Because this shit…me and you? Uh-uh, it won’t be happening.”

“What you scared of him or something?”

“Are you!?” You hit back, because huh ? How many times do you have to say it? You can handle Sukuna on your own, but he’s acting like he’s too good to confront him on it.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll talk to him. I got it.”

“Thank you! Like c’mon ‘toru, you're actually cool as shit and I really am starting to fuck with you. I’d hate for some petty shit like that to get in the wa—” he turns his head before you could even finish, you can’t tell if it’s because of the new nickname that rolls off your tongue so effortlessly well or finally admitting to him you feel some type of way…but he’s blushing now…a shade of pink so faint if it wasn’t for the light of the nearby lamp post shining through the windshield you wouldn’t have even been able to see it.

“What, you blushing?” You tease, you’re surprised really, you can’t fucking believe it, that smooth player attitude he’s kept up since you met him done melted away like it was nothing.

“No.” He doesn’t even believe himself when he says it. How could he with the tip of his ears and his cheeks flushed a dust pink.

“Aw you blushing?” You lean in closer to get a better look and all he does is his turn away further, he’d snap his neck before he’d let you catch him. You should take a picture just to really get him for giving you such a hard time not even a minute ago.

“No.” He’s a liar and you can hear it in his voice. He knows damn well he’s blushing and why. You probably shouldn’t have told him you’re feeling him though, that’s exactly when boys take their chance to start acting up. Fuck it though, your player card already gone, you’ll cross that bridge if he ever takes you there.

“Oh my god. Yes you are, you’re really blushing, that's so cute!” You say it in the most fake disgustingly babyish voice possible just to irk him, even reaching over to pitch at his cheek too. You made him fucking blush and he can’t hide it! He’s blushing even more now with the tiniest smile starting to pull at his lips. How fucking adorable is that.

“I’ll talk to him, I’ll talk to him…” he swats your hand away. You go to lean back in your seat, you’ll leave it alone for now but you’re keeping this moment under lock and key tucked away in memory. You finally cracked it. Toru , that’s all it took to make him blush. Boy’s are so easy.

“But you fuck with me now?” He throws a look back at you ready to rub it in, you knew he’d hold it against you. Now you’re a blushing mess too and you know damn well you’re worse at keeping anything off your face. You can’t stand how easy he says it, because now he knows and he’s probably going to tell the whole world. You’re a fool for giving it up, but to see him blush like that was still worth it.

“Just shut up and drive.” You make a face rolling your eyes. He’s going to rub it in more, you already know. Y’all are both evil.

“Nahhh, you fuck with me. You said it. What do they be saying on the 'gram? Stand on it?” He cheeses so big, you love to see him smile, you really do.

“Oh my god…” Your hands come up to cover your face, you can’t help but smile though. He fucking got you back and you just about gave him the tools to do so. You can’t even be mad about it.

“You still want Wendy’s?” He puts the car in reverse to back out the parking space.

“Yeah, I think we can make it.” Wendy’s isn’t too far, it’s right outside the borough, which isn’t too big either. There might be a wait at the drive-thru with everyone outside tonight but hopefully there’s enough people back in the kitchen cooking.

“I don’t know why…but I have the biggest cramp in my back.” He says, shifting in his seat.

“Probably because you be fucking me too hard.” You joke, because yeah your legs are sore too but you’re for damn sure not going to admit that to him.

“Definitely not from that, that was nothing.” He laughs. Alright now! You roll your eyes at that.

“Maybe ‘cause you’re so tall.”

“Maybe…” He shifts again. Aw poor him, probably blew his own back out fucking you.

“All these people outside damn this–”

“Can I put on music?” You ask, you didn’t mean to cut him off, but not having music playing in the background is starting to kill you.

“Yeah, I don’t have an aux cord you have to connect it to CarPlay.”

You move to play around with the entertainment screen trying to connect your phone to it. This car is like a fucking spaceship. You see some of his boy’s and other people's names you don’t recognize in the list of previous connections. Guess your name is on two lists now.

“How do you go out every week? It’s got to be tiring.”

“What makes you say that?

“I don’t know, it seems like you do…”

“Always assuming. But it’s fun, I be with my friends, and we be having a good time. How come I never see you out here?” You’re going through your music library, you don’t know what to put on yet but you do know that you want it to be a vibe.

“Way too busy, and I don’t drink.” Is all he says and you have no choice but to take his word for it. You already know his major is harder than yours, just the intro class alone has been kicking your ass this semester.

“Nah I get it, that’s why I’m not out there now.”

“You could have gone, it was still early when we left the library.”

“You said you wanted to go back to yours?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t gonna hold you if you wanted to go out.” Oh my gosh…can he shut up and stop playing. Now just act like you weren’t trying to take me back to yours to fuck me.

“Even if I did, I don’t really like what I have on so…”

“What? You looked good as shit when I pulled up.” He says it in such a way as if you’re crazy for even thinking you’d ever look bad a day in your life.

Oh my god…please…you’re going to ignore that.

“You could put on anything and still look good.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to smile at you, but you’re still ignoring him…you’re like mentally blushing so hard right now.

“You still ain't find anything to put on yet?” He takes a hand and slips it between your thighs, you spread them apart in an attempt to get him to stop but he just moves his hand up further. He's not teasing, just holding you.

“I’m just going to shuffle any playlist.” You hit shuffle on one of Apple Music’s curated playlists and Through The Nigh t by Maeta starts playing. A little too slow for your liking so you hit shuffle again and settle on Offset’s Worth It . A couple more minutes of you two talking about random stuff goes by and y’all are finally pulling into Wendy’s drive-thru, and to your surprise no other cars are lined up.

“What do you want?” He asks, rolling his window down to read the menu. You can’t see clearly from sitting in the passenger seat, you lean over the center console a bit.

“Um…hold on I can’t really see it.”

“What, you wear glasses?”

“Contacts. I didn’t feel like putting them in today…wait can I…” You lean over his lap trying your best to read the menu, you hear him shift to lean his seat back giving you space.

“I’m just going to get what I always get.”

“Hi, just one moment!” A younger woman's voice comes through the drive-thru speaker. You can already tell they’re about to take forever back there. Just as you’re about to move to sit back in your seat she speaks again.

“Hi, sorry! What would you like to order?”

“You can go first.” You say to him.

“Just a six piece spicy nugget.” He says with his customer service voice on.

“Your sauce?”

“Uh...can I do sweet n’ sour?”

“We’re out of that tonight, sorry.”

“Here go the bullshit.” You laugh. You swear this place gets worse than McDonald’s on a late night.

“Just the nuggets then.” He sighs.

“You’re just going to eat them dry?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re freaky.”

“Watch your mouth.” He whispers, slapping your butt when he says it too. Shit…at least it sounds better coming from him.

“And for you miss?”

“Um…okay, do you have cold brew?”

“Ice coffee?” He snickers.

“No…it’s almost three a.m and we’re about to close.” Now you definitely ordered coffee this late from here before but okay girl, whatever you say.

“Okay, can I get a medium strawberry lemonade?”

“We’re out of that too.”

“What!” You huff. Satoru’s laughing now.

“They suck.” He whispers for only you to hear.

“I know…can I just get a sprite and a large fry then?”

“With ice?” She asks, and she’s dead serious too. Satoru’s cracking up now and you’re about to spazz, why the fuck would you want warm ass sprite?

“Yes!” You stress out then moving to sit back down, god you know it’s late and she’s just trying to do her job but is she dumb?

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” He replies back to her.

“Okay, second window.”

“You’re so mean.” He laughs out, hitting the gas to drive the car forward. You dig through your backpack to search for your wallet, pulling out a ten dollar note, the one time you have cash on you and it’s going right into Wendy’s hands.

“Hi, 9.80.” The young woman says as she opens the drive-thru window.

“Here.” You pass him the bill and he takes it, his own debit card already between his fingertips.

“I got it. Thanks though." He hands her his card, giving you the bill back and she moves to process the transaction.

“I was going to pay for it…”

“It’s like ten dollars, It's cool.” He waves you off. Guess money is not a problem for him then, what a gentleman…bare minimum but you’re starting to love it here.

“You forgot to get a drink.”

“Thank you, just a moment.” She hands him his card back.

“Can I share with you?”

“Sure…” You had to stop yourself from making a face at that, he can drink off you but can’t kiss you? Oh the fucking logic.

“You get five sips.”

“I paid for it!”

“You wouldn’t let me!”

“I’m taking thirty sips, just sit back and look pretty.” You’re going to punch him one day…

“You should have got a sweet tea…” he says.

“Ew…with fries?”

“Whaaaa!? Sweet tea is the best.”

“No. Just No.” You shake your head in disgust, how could he drink that? How!?

“You were just about to get an ice coffee, what do you mean!?”

“That’s not the same!”

“You’re right, it’s worse. Freaky ass combo.”

“You’re the freak.” Because ain’t no way he just about ate you off the bone not even an hour ago and is calling you the freak.

“Hell no, you are!” He laughs, and just as you’re about to clap back the drive-thru window opens again with the young woman passing him your drink and the bag of food.

“Thank you, thank you.” He says sweetly to her and she’s charmed. Poor thing, you can’t even blame her. His charm already worked on you too, that’s how your ass ended up here now.

“Are we parking here?” You ask as he hands you the food, you put the drink down in the cup holder.

“No, I got a spot nearby. I wanna spark up.”

“Okay.” You say going with the flow, you could do a blunt with your meal.

Where he ends up taking you isn’t even a secret. It’s a parking lot right behind the old post office building that you’ve been to plenty of times freshman year when you and your then circle of friends were too scared to smoke on campus out of fear of getting caught.

“I’ve been here before.” You say looking around, it’s still dark and creepy out here as before and you can barely make out anything in the distance with his car tints being so dark.

“With who? This my spot.”

“Definitely not your spot.” You say smart, everybody knows this spot.

“Pass me the raw’s in there.” He points to the glove department on your side and you go to open it.

“You don’t have a wood?”

“I think I got one left...you don’t smoke papers?” Digging in the middle console box.

“Not at all…unless it's a King Palm.”

“Y'all girls love those. Only one gas station out here sells them, tired of driving up there.” Damn…what bitch got him complaining?

“You got something flat like a notebook I can use? I gotta roll this real quick.” Finding the backwood pack he pulls a small mylar bag out too that has the bud in it.

“You can use this.” You give him a spiral notebook that you don't care about out of your bag and he takes it, putting it in his lap. Honestly, just watching him roll is making you horny. It isn’t even the action, but the movement of his fingers is what’s doing it for you. He’s licking the blunt now putting it together, you’re watching him like a hawk and he’s letting you, too concentrated on the task at hand. You need something else to look at before your panties get wet.

“You want your nuggets?” Reaching for the fries in the bag, just as you were about to fuck them up you find they’re cold to the touch. Disgusting!

“I'll eat them late–”

“The fries are cold.”

“For real? You want to go back?”

“It’s past three…” You sigh, looking at the time on the dash.

“Damn, you can eat mine then. I’m not that hungry.”

“Thanks.” You say sadly…but you hate spicy food so you roll the bag up and chuck it away. Reaching for your drink now you take a few sips and just as you’re about to speak again your phone vibrates, a FaceTime call from Utahime. You quickly hit decline but she calls right back.

“I got to answer this.”

“Go ahead.” Still busy working on the blunt.

“Utahime, you’re on speaker.” You get out quickly before she says something wild.

“Girl I don’t give a fuck, where you at?” She says, there’s commotion in the background, people around her talking and the noise of the Pandora bracelets she always wears jingling in the microphone.

“I’m at Wendy’s.” You lie, and you hear Satoru snicker.

“You’re lying. I got your location. Who are you with?”

“Why are you so nosey?”

“Nosey!? You told me you were going to be at the library ‘cause you had all this homework to do and not even an hour or so later I see you were over at West!”

“And I did finish, so what’s up?”

“Then why are you not home? Who are you with?” She’s yelling now, too drunk off her ass to hear herself and you have half the mind to hang up in her face again.

“I’m out ‘boutta smoke real quick, mind your business!” You try to turn the volume down but she’s still loud as hell, stupid ass iPhone.

“Bye girl, I know you’re with that fucking boy! Satoru! Bring my bitch home right the fuck now!”

“I’m hanging up.” You end the call right in her face. She’s so dramatic, but you can tell she’s more so upset that you ditched her, not the fact that you’re with him.

“Here.” He passes you back your notebook, finished with rolling the blunt, and to your surprise it’s pearled to perfection. Oh you really do love it here for real now.

“I don’t know how you live with that girl…” he starts, pulling out a lighter to light the blunt then blowing the flame out.

“...she’s got a crazy mouth on her.” He takes his first two hits then passes it to you and you hold it between your finger tips.

“She’s not that bad, she’s just playing.” But he’s speaking facts though, she’s a firecracker when she wants to be but you’d never chop it up with him about it.

“How!? She just cussed you out?”

“She ain't cuss me out.” You suck your teeth, Utahime knows you’ll knock her ass out. Whatever beef they have got him bitching.

“That is one scary little girl.” He shakes his head laughing, you take your hits then pass it back. Reaching for the sprite to soothe your throat.

“I’ll tell her you said that.” You tease, because don’t call my bestie scary or little!

“Don’t. Please. I do not need to hear her mouth.” He begs. You laugh at that because seriously, why is he so fucking scared.

“Then don’t poke the bear.” You joke. He passes you the blunt instead of responding and you happily accept it. Already feeling it in your system, this has got to be Yuuji's stuff, he really does have the best gas on campus. You want to ask what’s the deal between the two of them, all four of them even. But you don’t want to ruin this moment. Men lie so you’ll have to get it out of one of the girls eventually, you know it.

Time goes on as the two of you smoke, he’s rambling on about something his friends got into earlier this morning but you’ve already checked out of the conversation, you don’t give a fuck about them boys. His car is cozy and you feel warm and dizzy high off the blunt so you just let him talk as you sit and watch him with the biggest heart eyes on your face.

He’s so handsome…you could sit and listen to him talk for days. You’d happily play your role as his little listener if it meant getting your homework done and smoked out every night with dick on the side. Every time his hands drop to his lap your eyes travel down with them...you’ll eat his dick right now if you could and the more he talks the more you want too then before you know it you’re leaning in closer.

“What…?” He stops midspeech to look at you.

“Nothing…I’m listening.”

“What I say then?” He sinks down lower in his seat, his legs spreading further apart and wow just wow. You just might be a slut tonight, because the only thing on your mind right now is giving him head. He should know your ass was not listening!

“I don’t know.” There’s no point in lying, he could have been plotting to kidnap you the whole time and you wouldn’t have known.

“Because you weren’t listening.” He laughs.

“So?”

“Why you come closer then?” He tries instead, you can tell he’s baiting you but you’re trying to avoid answering.

“So I can listen.”

“But you’re not…so what’s up?” He takes a hand to lift your chin up to face him and you have no choice but to let him as you lean yourself up on the center console. You hate them so much, you wish cars didn’t have them, he’s still so far away.

“What? Tell me?” He continues pressing, you want it but you don’t want to say it out loud. Communicating…you’re good at it when you need to but when it comes to something like this you clam up.

“Whatever it is…I might already know.” He says smoothly, a challenging look in his eyes and you know better than to look away. You want it so bad. You’re almost there.

“What then?” You say, if he can bait you then you can too.

“You can say it. Stop being shy.” He moves to place a thumb on your bottom lip. Man, fuck it then.

“I want to suck it…”

“Yeah?” He pushes his thumb further parting your lips. He’s such a flirt, you should bite his finger off for it but it’s time to play nice.

“Mhm…” You wrap your lips around it instead, boy’s always tell you how good they look, you hope he thinks the same.

“Don’t let me stop you then…” He lets up off you and that’s all you need to be told to get down to work. He pushes the driver's seat back to give room to slide his pants and boxers down and as you come closer leaning over the center console, you can feel your knees digging into the edge of your seat as you reach to take him in your hand. It’s about to be your first time giving him top and you need to show out.

You don’t know what you like more, the sound of your mouth as you slurp him up or the clacking of your acrylic nails as you work his dick. He’s moaning now and you definitely like the sound of that better than whatever Bryson Tiller track is playing on the stereo.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t make out what it is, you’re too focused on sucking him off. He’s got one hand gripping your hair as you bob up and down, the other still holding the blunt and you pray none of that hot ash gets on you.

“You don’t have to be gentle…” He moans out as you come up to the tip again.

“Huh?” You’re taken aback by that, aren’t you already doing your best?

“Lemme show you...” He moves to hold the blunt between his lips then takes your hand to wrap both his and yours around him. “Squeeze the tip…like this…there you go.” He breathes out, you’re doing just as he directs and you swear you just heard his toes crack.

“Suck it while you do it too.”

Your mouth is back on him and you got him moaning like a bitch now, you might not be textbook smart when it comes to physics but if it’s one thing he can teach you right it’s how to suck his dick.

“Hold on…” he breathes, the blunt leaving his lips as he holds it between his fingers. The hand in your hair is gripping tighter now and you love having it tugged on.

“Fuck— you still want your drink?”

“No.” You pull off. An audible pop sound when you do too. He reaches under you for the cup. Hand still wrapped around his dick, you move to the side for him to get it. Taking the cup he drops the blunt inside and motions you to come back towards him.

Leaning back over you start up again, this time two hands coming to hold your hair up as you suck him. The more he moans the wetter you get and it's tonight you realize you actually love giving head, he’s doesn't even know how lucky he is.

“Pull these down.” He breathes out, moving to tug at the waistline of your pants. They're a tight fit, so they're not coming off easy.

“I got it…” You figure he wants to squeeze your butt while you give him top, so you move to do what he asks. Shimmying your cargos down then taking your shoes off he takes a handful of your ass and brings you closer to him, you’re completely hunched over the console at this point, your elbows digging into his thighs. Just as you’re about to protest being uncomfortable in this position you feel your thong being pushed to the side and his fingers slipping through your wet pussy. He’s finger fucking you like crazy now, didn’t even give a bitch a warning before he does it. Task at hand now lost, your slump over him moaning out his name with your ass tooted up as he continues curling his fingers deep in you.

“Fuck— shit…toru…wait!”

“Uh-uh…” He breathes out hot, slapping your ass on the last syllable too with his other hand. He’s hella deep now, digging dangerously close towards your cervix, you’d go back to sucking him off but your mind is spinning, nothing but the sound of your moans and the squish of your pussy as he fucks his fingers in and out of you is pleasing him.

Your pussy is soaked, sloppier than the mess you made all over his dick and he better stop before he makes a mess he can’t clean up. You can feel it coming on…the pressure of his fingers in you is just too sweet and he’s about to fuck around and find out if he doesn’t quit it.

“Toru…” You moan out, you’re holding onto the side of the car door, grabbing his thighs, gripping his knees, anything at this point to hold yourself up.

“Take it baby…you got it.” He slaps your ass again, he’s been so rough with you tonight and it’s turning you on even further.

“I can’t!” You nearly shout, even if anyone could hear you there’s no one in the parking lot too.

“You can, don’t tap out on me just yet.”

You throw your hair out of your face with that, don’t tap out…it’s fucking hot in here. You’ll die before you cum if he doesn’t crack open a window.

“Wet ass pussy, you gonna let me eat it again?”

“Yes!”

“Or you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“Pick one.” Bitch…both options sound great. Who the hell are you to choose? You can’t even think straight enough to answer that stupid question, he’s about to make you cum if he doesn't stop.

“Pick one.” He says again, and all you can do is babble out his name, two fingers still curling up in you and you swear by the end of this your pussy is going to be through till the weekend.

“Toru!” That feeling from before is coming back…a pressure that’s building up again.

“Yes baby? I’m listening.” Oh my god that made your pussy sing, the way he talks to you drives you crazy. His dick is rock hard and he won’t stop the pace he’s at fucking his fingers into you. It’s as if watching you come undone is what’s getting him off.

“You know, you’re such a princess when you’re not being mean…” he starts, and your ears perk up at the pet name.

“You cum on my fingers, I’ll let you slide for that lil attitude you had with me.”

“Toru…” You whine out, it’s not cumming that he needs to be worried about it’s—

“Fuck!” You feel his fingers leave you before you know it and you’re squirting all over his hand, down your legs, and onto his car seat. You don’t know if you should be embarrassed by yourself or mortified that you just soiled thousand dollar car seats.

“Shit— Wait wait hold on—”

“Huh?” Is all he says, wiping his hand on the back of your thigh then shifting to lift you up so you move to fall back into the passenger seat, you can feel the spot you soaked right underneath you and it’s fucking gross.

“It’s wet! It got all on your—”

“Get in the back.” He goes to pull his pants back up, then looks at you waiting for you to make a move. You know that look…you’re about to get fucked!

The car is wide enough for you to hop in the back instead of getting out and back in like he has too. He’s in the back with you now, waiting for you to sit in his lap so you move to completely take your thong off and the hoodie too.

“Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get a detail soon…” He grips you at the waist as he takes you into his lap. His dick is flushed red against his stomach and you can’t wait to sit on it. You move your arms to wrap them behind his neck as you lift yourself up for him to slip his dick into you.

He fucks you nice and rough this time, holding your body close against his chest, gripping your hair and breathing your name hot in your ear while he does it too. Bouncing on his dick like this is going to make you cum quick and he knows it, he's already had you like this before.

“Toru!” You moan out. Getting dicked down in the backseat of his car was not how you thought your Thursday night would go when you woke up this morning. He’s deep in your guts and your mind is going crazy getting fucked down every single inch of him. Your high is already blown, the car is rocking now. This shit is getting wild.

“You still have an attitude?” He breathes out, looking you right in the eye as he says it too. You move to lay your head into the crook of his neck, but he pushes you to lean against the backside of the driver's seat. Your thighs are sore now and you’re scared you’re going to fall but you know he won’t drop you.

“You love this dick?”

“Yes!” You moan. What’s the use in lying acting like you don’t? He grabs your ass then, gripping one cheek in his hand with the other arm wraps around your back as he pushes you closer towards him.

“Show me then.” He slaps your ass, then grips you, letting his hand guide you as he bounces you on his dick.

“Get up when I say…” He moans out, you can hear that he’s close but you need to cum first.

“Oh my god, toru I can’t…I can’t I can’t.” You cry out. With how sore your thighs are you don’t even think you can get up. You hope he’s strong enough to get you off him before he busts.

His hips are snapping quicker now, he’s close and you are too.

“Up. Get Up.” He growls, pushing you up off his dick. Using his thumb he works to rub at your clit and you’re so fucking grateful for it. Looking down you see he’s pumping his dick, cumming all over his knuckles with some of it getting right onto your pussy. You’re cumming too now, thighs shaking as you do. You’re breathless. The hardest you’ve ever came fucking him thus far.

You’re done. You’re fucking done. You can’t take it anymore. You’re done!

“Fuck girl! Damn.” He breathes out, lifting you up to try and push you to the side. Moving over you take a seat next to him, god damn it’s hot in here.

“Check if there’s napkins in the bag. I got…shit I got it all over me.”

“Yeah…” He slaps your ass as you get up to reach for the bag sitting on the floor of the passenger seat. There’s a couple in there, you reach in the bag to pass him a few then lay a couple down on the seat where it’s still damp. Pushing yourself over the console to sit back in the front, you get your pants back on then try your best to get the rest of yourself back together. There’s no point in putting your thong back on, wearing them would feel way worse than the rough fabric of the cargos against your coochie.

Smoothing your hair down you hear him get back into the driver's seat. His pants are back on but he’s looking just as fucked out as you do, if not worse. Drake’s Spin Bout U is playing and he’s bopping to the beat.

Fuck your main page, what’s your Finsta? I wanna know the real you

You started dancin to pay your tuition, girl, I wanna know what you been through

You want a boutique or you wanna sell hair, just let me know what you into

“If you out in public and he want your number, just tell him my man’ll spin you!” He raps, playfully poking your shoulder. Looks like someone’s in a good mood now that they just nutted.

You swat his hand away and just before you can say something smart to him the sound of a FaceTime call cuts off the music, looking at the dash you see it’s a group call from The One’s and he presses the green button to answer it.

“Yoooooo! Gojo, where you at?” It's Sukuna’s voice. Please god, give you a fucking break.

“I’m out.” He says, turning the engine on.

“Out where?”

“He’s at the spot. I’m looking at his lo’ now.” You hear a voice sounding like Choso’s come through.

“The spot? With who? Bet not be with that one girl.” You make a face now…because who are they talking about?

“What girl, the tall one?” Choso asks, and before Satoru can reply Sukuna cuts in.

“Nah the new one.”

“Uhhhh—” His eyes widen at that.

“Her!? Gojo, you start talking to her yet?”

“Talk to her? Man, he already fucked her!” Sukuna laughs and your jaw fucking drops. What the hell! You turn to Satoru now, you’re about to knock his ass out if he doesn’t hang up the call right now but you know better than to speak up in hopes Sukuna doesn’t hear you. Whoever’s on the call is laughing now, you think you make out three voices.

“Man, Gojo…you gotta chill bro. Naoya texted me saying it’s a whole bunch of noise coming from the dorm asking if it’s me, I tell him nah bro, I’m not in there right now. Next thing I know he call me laughing, he's telling me some girl is in there getting cracked and she's loud as hell—”

Oh my god…your eyes are popping out their damn sockets now.

“I tell him nah bro, that’s my man Gojo. Y’all…this fool texted me a video of him standing outside the door recording as If I really want to hear that shit. I swear, something's fucking wrong with that kid.”

They’re all laughing again now and all you can do is just sit there and take it to the chin. Naoya…that furious beast looking mother fucker…ain’t no fucking way this is happening to you.

“Gojo, you got the entire floor group chat jumping with that shit—” Nah, you’ve heard enough, you’re seeing red now so you take it upon yourself to hang the call up.

“SATORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!” You scream, god you’re so fucking mad your head is about to spin.

“Why are you screaming at me for I ain’t even do anything!” He doesn’t even sound serious when he says it, he’s laughing…he’s actually fucking laughing

“You think that shits funny!?”

“No no no…It’s not–”

“Bro!? Yes you do! Oh my god—” You need to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe!

“You sat there and let him say all that shit about me! Satoru I swear to god, I’ma fuck you up, text him right now to delete that bullshit!”

“Alright. Alright. Alright. Chill. Chill. Chill.”

“No! Y’all fucking chill! All y’all do is ran y’all mouths talking about bitches, that’s so fucking childish!”

“What yo!? You probably let Utahime and your friends talk mad shit about us and I don’t say anything.”

“Are you serious!? Satoru, that is in no way comparable to what the fuck they just did!”

“But you ain’t denying it though!”

“What yo!? Shut up! All bitches talk shit about their girl friends hoe’s—” Oop, now you know you fucked up the second that word came out your mouth.

“Oh, so I’m just one of your hoe’s now?” He says sarcastically, his entire demeanor switching at that. You feel bad, but watching his face pull into a sad scowl is kind of funny.

“My bad…I aint even mean it like that.” You can’t hide the amusement in your voice either, the girls are going to piss themselves when you get around to telling them this. He looks pissed too, y’all can call it even now

“Yeah? Then how you mean it?” He puts the car in reverse, backing out of the space to drive off.

“What are you actually mad!?” Because no way he’s in his feelings over this. It was not that deep.

“I’m not one of your hoes.”

Yeah boy, okay!

“Then what are you?”

“You tell me.”

“Coulda swore I already did.” You say smart back, you can tell he’s not really mad, but if he is then he needs to tighten the fuck up.

“Put your address in. I’m taking your lil mean ass home.” He hands you his phone and you snatch it.

Y’all both ain’t shit.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Way I Loved You

Luke Castellan x demeter!Reader

Summary: "But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain / And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name / So in love that you act insane"

Warnings: angst, possessiveness, jealousy, toxic relationship, fluff ending

Wordcount: 3.3K

Masterlist

A/N A. Yes, it's another Taylor Swift songfic and B. Four fics in five days, I've been cooking

And you were wild and crazy / Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated

Ever since Y/N met Luke Castellan, he drove her insane. When they were kids, 13 and 14 respectively, they hated each other. She hated the way he came in and immediately started bossing the campers around. Despite being so young she was the counselor for the Demeter cabin. Her big sister—her only sibling at the time—had tragically died on her way to camp that summer. But instead of mourning the always kind and radiant daughter of Demeter, they mourned the daughter of Zeus no one had ever met. And seeing the way the new boy seemed to soak up the attention made her hate him.

By the time she was 15 they still hated each other but he was all she had. They had both been at camp so long, and lost so many of their siblings and friends, both could hardly remember life without the other. But they still argued like children. So whenever they had bickered so much that Chiron or Mr. D got tired of it, they’d send them to do a chore together. They spent long hours cleaning the showers, stables, infirmary, doing practically every undesirable chore together that they finally started to talk.

Luke got to know her and understand why she hated him. And she had learned about his life and gained sympathy for him.

Soon enough those talks became makeout sessions. They stopped talking but at least they couldn’t fight if their lips were occupied. It was like they were addicted to each other.

Eventually they slid into dating. When they weren’t talking it was great. But someone would inevitably say or do something that made the other mad.

~

“Why were you flirting with him?” Luke demanded, slamming the door of the Demeter cabin.

“What are you talking about? I was training him. You know? Doing my job!”

“It wasn’t just training and you know it.”

“Gods you’re so insecure and possessive.”

“You’re the one who begged me to commit to you. Of course I’m gonna worry about my fucking girlfriend.”

“I did not beg you.”

“Yes you did. You’re the insecure one. You just needed to put a label on it and screw everything up.”

~

“You were supposed to meet me by the lake an hour ago!” Y/N stormed into the room.

“Oh crap. I’m so sorry babe,” he apologized. Trying to kiss her and make it go away.

“You do this all the time. I’m never a priority to you!”

“You’re literally my girlfriend. I don’t know what else you want.”

“I’m only your girlfriend because you didn’t want me to date anyone else!”

~

“Why are you packing?” Luke asked.

“You know my cousin who goes to Syracuse? She invited me up for the weekend.”

“So what? You can go party with frat guys?”

“No, so I can party with girls,” she tried to lighten the mood.

But Luke wasn’t consoled.“I don’t want you going to some college and getting drunk.”

“Why?”

“Because so many things can happen. You could get drugged and taken advantage of. You could get attacked. What are you gonna do if a cyclops sniffs you out but you’re too drunk to realize?”

“You’re not actually worried about that you just don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust.”

“It takes two to tango.”

“Again, you could get roofied.”

“Urgh Luke you’re not listening to me!”

~

They had plenty of arguments. So much so that the Hermes and Demeter campers had a silent agreement to go to each other’s cabins whenever their counselors started arguing.

But toxic relationships can’t go on forever.

It was Y/N’s birthday. She was turning 18. Collectively Camp Half-Blood made a big deal about birthdays considering that each one literally signified a triumph over death. But Luke couldn’t even be bothered to spend the day with her. When she woke up in his bed, he was already up and putting on his training gear. “‘Morning,” she greeted softly. She tried not to seem too excited about her birthday but all she wanted in that moment was for him to say “happy birthday.”

“Hey,” he smiled. “I'm gonna go train with some of the other campers. The new kids have been excited to watch me fight so…” he said smugly, already halfway out the door. “Just uh make the bed when you leave? Thanks.”

She was left disappointed. Like she always was except for when they were together but not talking.

But almost as soon as she stepped outside she was greeted with several wishes for a good birthday. She nearly cried when she got back to her cabin and found her bunk decorated, small gifts left on her bed from her friends and siblings.

By lunch practically the whole camp had wished her a happy birthday and she was feeling a bit better. She was reading a book she got as a gift, sitting alone at the Demeter table while she ate. Laughter invaded the dining pavilion and she watched as Luke entered along with the campers he had been training. He spotted her, coming over to her table but she didn’t even look up at him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. No response. “Why are you mad?” Still no response. After a few beats of silence he tried to change the subject. “So what are you reading?” She just held the book up so he could read the title. “Ah. Where’d you get that?”

By now the other campers had grabbed their food and were walking past the Demeter table. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” they each wished as they passed by. She smiled up at each of them as they passed. She only spared a glance at Luke to witness the expression on his face.

“Are-are you mad because you think I forgot your birthday? Of course I didn’t forget your birthday, babe. I’m just uh… saving my surprise for after dinner.”

“Sure,” was all she said, flipping the page.

“No, no,” Luke insisted, coming around to the other side of the table. He straddled the bench, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. As he did so he pressed a kiss against her cheek because she was still focused on her book. “You’re gonna love your gift. I swear.”

Luke spent the rest of the afternoon running around trying to put together a surprise. He got Mr. D to summon a small cake. Fortunately Mr. D was the one person in camp that didn’t know or care that it was Y/N’s birthday so he didn’t ask questions. As for the gift, Luke was lost. Anything in the camp store she’d immediately be able to tell wasn’t something he had thought about and anything he already owned she’d recognize as his.

So he went out to the meadow, picking flowers. She was the daughter of Demeter, of course she liked flowers.

So by the time dinner finished, Luke was pretty proud of what he had pieced together despite his limited resources. After everyone had left the dining pavilion, he brought Y/N to the docks where he proudly displayed his hard work. Except when he handed her the flowers, she looked disappointed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I know you forgot my birthday. That’s fine. Whatever,” she sniffed passive aggressively. “But you gave me probably the most cop out gift you could think of.”

“What do you mean? You love flowers.”

By now the tears were freely flowing from her eyes. “You know I hate cut flowers because they just die. You could have dug a few up, preserved their roots and repotted them.”

“Okay fine, I’ll plant them.”

But she shook her head. “No, it’s too late.”

“Then I’ll get new flowers.”

“No, not about flowers. It’s too late for us.”

His heart sunk. “What?”

“Luke, I think we should break up.”

“Over a damn gift? Y/N, I’m sorry. I know I dropped the ball but the wrong gift isn’t something you break up over.”

“It’s not about the gift!” she cried. “Luke, we don’t know each other. We’re strangers who are together because it’s convenient. The gift just proves you only know the basics. We’ve been together for two years. Known each other for five. You should know I don’t like cut flowers.”

“So we need to reconnect? We can work through this. Please Y/N, don’t do anything rash.”

She just shook her head again. “You’re not getting it. It’s not even just that we don’t know each other. We can’t talk for more than five minutes before fighting. We’re toxic, Luke.”

“But we’re…”

“Just because we’re all each other has doesn’t mean we’re good together.”

“Y/N, don’t do this. Please.” By now even Luke had a few tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Luke. But this is better for both of us.” With that, she walked away from him for the last time.

~~

He can't see the smile I'm faking / And my heart's not breaking / 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

Getting over Luke was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She spent several days crying to her younger sister, Katie. She tried to help her sister but the younger girl couldn’t relate, making Y/N just feel more alone. But then a new Athena camper joined and things got better.

Chiron had basically assigned Y/N to show Ben the ropes around camp. He felt bad for the poor girl. No one liked watching her or Luke sulk around camp.

“Ben, I’d like you to meet Y/N. She’s one of our most senior campers and counselor of the Demeter cabin.”

She smiled at the new boy. “Hi. Do you know what cabin you’ll be in yet?”

“Yeah, uh Athena. She claimed me when the satyrs found me,” he answered, already finding himself interested. Chiron tried to hide his smirk realizing the boy’s quickly growing feelings.

“Well you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Y/N,” Chiron interrupted, “why don’t you show Ben around? Let him know how we do things around here.”

“Uh, sure. C’mon I’ll give you a tour.” As they went around camp, Ben asked her all sorts of things about herself. Favorite color, favorite flower, who her friends were, what they were like, what she liked to eat and more. All the things Luke should have known.

As they kept going through camp, Ben knew he was already falling for her. And not just because Chiron had talked her up so much as they had approached the daughter of Demeter. He thought she was pretty and smart. And she was so kind to him. Plus, everyone around camp seemed to love her.

Ben’s very apparent interest was much to the chagrin of Luke. He had spent the first couple days of his breakup pretending like everything was alright. An act that proved very unpopular with the rest of camp. But the lonely nights got to him and his siblings could hear quiet sobs and sniffles in the night. But almost as soon as he started showing remorse, this new guy showed up and all of a sudden there was a buzz around camp about the new guy who would replace him.

The excited gossip about his ex and the new boy had literally started from day one. He saw them going through the camp tour a few times that day. After all, Camp Half-Blood is big. And Luke just happens to have to go to the same areas his ex does at the same time. But every time he spotted them he couldn’t help but glare at the new Athena cabin member. Every time he sent her a smile or made her laugh, Luke curled his fist impossibly tighter. His fists became almost perpetually white as the blossoming romance grew over time.

As for Y/N, she was finally healing. Not happy, but healing and Ben was helping with that as time went on and they got closer. He was perfect. Sweet, smart, a gentleman. But he wasn’t Luke.

They spent many nights getting to know each other. He knew her birthday, all her favorites, and made an effort with all her friends. Hell he even made an effort with Luke—an effort the Hermes boy did not appreciate—because he knew Luke was still important to Y/N. When he asked her out he did so with a pot of her favorite flowers which he had Argus help him get.

He knocked on the door of the Demeter cabin which was opened by Katie. “Hey Katie,” Ben greeted Y/N’s favorite younger sister. “Is Y/N home?”

“Yeah, she is.” The young girl called for her and soon enough the object of Ben’s affection was at the door.

“Hey Ben. What’s up?” she asked.

“I just wanted to give you this,” he smiled, handing her the beautifully potted flower. “I know I’m no demigod child of the plant goddess but…”

“No it’s great,” she smiled at him. But her heart was sinking. It wasn’t because of the gift, the gift was perfect actually. But if Luke had been the one to give it to her, her heart would be soaring. “Thank you.”

“And I just wanted to ask you if you uh- wanted to have dinner with me tonight?” he nervously asked.

“Oh well I’d love to,” she smiled. “But uh we can’t table hop at dinner. It’s against the rules,” she laughed nervously, hoping that would be enough to dissuade him.

“That’s not a problem. I got permission from Chiron to let us have dinner together. We just have to be out of the dining pavilion before everyone else gets there at 7.”

Dread kept filling her. She was in too deep now. And he had asked Chiron, she couldn’t just shoot him down. “Well then I’ll see you at 6 then?”

The biggest smile broke over his face. “See you then.”

The entire time at dinner, Y/N wanted to cry. This is not what she wanted. Ben was not what she wanted. But she kept forcing a happy face, hoping that if she could convince Ben she liked him too, she could convince herself.

When he brought her out to the meadow and kissed her, she wanted to dig herself into the ground and die. It was a sweet kiss but it just felt wrong… like there was no chemistry or passion between them.

She was so frustrated with herself. As she looked into Ben’s eyes she wondered why she couldn’t just love him back. Here was this incredibly caring guy who was more than willing to give her everything she was asking for but she just didn’t feel anything.

~~

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

For Luke, seeing Y/N with Ben made a weird dread fill his chest. To him it wasn’t fair that she just got to move on when she was the one that broke up with him. She should be begging for him back right now. And he hated to admit it but he’d take her back in a heartbeat right now.

So when he found her crying on the beach late one night, he didn’t know what to think. But she was still all he had so he approached. “Hey,” he tried to catch her attention gently.

She looked up at him, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh, hey Luke,” she tried to play off her tears. “What are you doing here?”

“Came here to think and then I saw you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” She gave a strained smile that did nothing to hide the puffiness of her eyes or blotchy skin.

It pained Luke to see her like this. Even more so when he knew he was the cause of her tears at one point. “Are you sure?” he asked, sitting next to her but maintaining her space. “We can talk. I promise it’ll just be a friendly conversation.”

She let out the weakest laugh he had ever heard. “I’m fine. You wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway,” she dismissed even though Luke was the only person she wanted to talk to. He was the only person who could maybe possibly understand. Her siblings were too young and the only other camper their age was Ben.

“Try me,” Luke challenged, scooting the slightest bit closer.

She looked at him for a while before reluctantly speaking. “It’s Ben. I just… he’s such a great guy. He’s nice, and sweet, and such a gentleman but he’s just not…”

“Just not what?” Luke asked a little eagerly. From a distance she had looked blissfully happy and everyone spoke about how well Ben treated her. But hearing that his ex-girlfriend had a problem with the guy she was dating? Luke was a little too eager to hear about that.

“He’s not you!” She finally admitted. She didn’t miss the way Luke seemed to brighten. “He does nice things for me and he’s so sweet and into me but I’m just feeling nothing at all. It’s like there’s no passion between us.”

“Well you were right. We were toxic but we also had a lot of passion,” Luke tried to lighten the mood. “Look, I don’t mean to sweep in on your most vulnerable moment but I’ve been thinking since the breakup and this is the first time you’ve even looked at me so. I know I treated you like shit and was so possessive. I’m ready to actually commit to you and be your boyfriend instead of just slipping into it because we were already making out when we were younger. I want to give you everything the old me couldn’t or wouldn’t because watching you slip through my fingers was the most painful thing I've ever done. Besides, with more effort I think we could make this work because you don’t fight like we did unless you’re in love. People who don’t love each other just let it fade. They don’t fight.”

She looked like she was in severe pain. “Gods, why couldn’t you have said this three months ago?” Her lips were immediately on his. Luke was a little taken aback but kissed her back, glad to have her in his arms once again.

A few moments later they were promising each other eternity with all the passion in the world. “Forever?” he asked through labored breaths, his fingers intertwined with her hair.

“Forever,” she agreed.

The next day Luke was waiting anxiously in the Hermes cabin. Y/N was ending things with Ben but he was still nervous. What if she decided she wanted to stick with the safer option? He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if she went back to him after last night.

His thoughts were only quieted when the door opened and he found her standing there. He stood up anxiously but hesitated, still slightly wary that she’d tell him she changed her mind. But she walked towards him, immediately falling into his arms. “Forever?” he asked.

“Forever,” she agreed.

Relieved, Luke pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Forever,” he confirmed for himself.

Masterlist

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.” 

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.” 

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

  Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment. 

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you. 

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time.  In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying. 

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie. 

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—” 

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back. 

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.” 

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality. 

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.” 

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?” 

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better. 

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?” 

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said. 

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone. 

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum. 

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you. 

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence. 

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.” 

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?”  You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful. 

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.  

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before. 

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows.  "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 2)

“If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad.”

“I wanted the thrill of the chase more than I wanted you.” 

“You really couldn’t have been any more obvious.” “That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.” 

“This is literally the worst moment for me to be saying this but considering how we could die at any second, I need to get this off my chest before I become buried six feet under, without a chance to say any of this to you: I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve loved you every second of my life; from the moment when I knew what loving someone really meant.” 

“I kinda knew I lost all feelings for you when I realised I didn’t want to communicate with you about the problems that were happening between us. I became complaisant.” 

“Loving you is as easy as overthinking everything.” 

“It’s… easy with you. Nice. I don’t have to be someone else to impress you, because I know you love me for me.”

“There are parts of me I’d never thought I’d show to anyone else, but then… You came along, and for some reason, you made me want to be honest with you; bare my soul to you.”

“So what in the hell are we? I’m not doing this unless we’re on the same page.” 

“Please don’t tell me we’re nothing to you… That I mean nothing after everything’s that happened.”

“You’re my emotional support human, and I love you so, so much.”

“If you ever need me, I’ll be right here. Just as I’ve always been.” 

“I’d let you break my heart, if it means I’d get to have you for even a day.” 

“You make me feel like dancing in the pouring rain wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” 

“You’re astoundingly unhealthy for me, but do I care? No, because I wouldn’t have fallen if I cared, especially when I’m someone who’s usually so careful with whom I give my heart to.”

“…I didn’t drunk call you. It wasn’t a drunk call. I called you, perfectly sober.” 

“You’re someone I want to tell things to.”

“What’s more important to me is that I’m your last love.” 

“This… This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Falling in love wasn’t on the agenda.” “Do you mean falling in love with me out of all people wasn’t on the agenda?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m kind of in love?”

“…I want all of you. On top, under, whatever — I don’t care, I just want you.”

“Maybe I can help you forget about them.”

“It’s easier to pretend I’m still in love with them, than leave them in that state.” “You know you basically lying to them about your feelings is gonna hurt them more in the long run, right?” 

“Why does it have to be them? Why can’t it be me?”

“I’ll give you two seconds to take that back.” 

“You gotta work for it, love.” 

“We can pretend that didn’t happen.” “I’m sorry, but I’m not as good of an actor as you are.”

“I don’t know how to… I’ve never done this before.” “Then follow my lead, okay?”

“I’m someone who falls in love easily, but I’m also someone who can’t get over someone as easily.”

“I want to make this work, because I don’t— I don’t want to— I can’t lose you.” 

“You make me want to be a better version of myself.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up with you.” “You won’t. I promise, you won’t, so just… Do whatever. I trust you.”  

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” “…I was looking at the mail app, and uh… Received some good news?”

“Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right?”

“I’m not doing this for you — I’m doing this for myself.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”

“I’m here to stay. At least until you want me gone, which I hope is never.” 

“Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you.”

“Don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me bullcrap. It’s us both. We’re both at fault for this relationship breakdown.” 

“God, I just like you so, so much.” 

“I think I need to get over you for me to feel better again.” 

“You and your stupid smile… Stop that.” 

“I just need you in me somehow, please—”

“I really hope you realised they were flirting with you.” “…They were?”

“I’ve caught feelings for you, and I know you don’t like me back that way so I just… Wanted to tell you, before I decide to let you go.”

“I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces if that’s what you want me to do, but I’ll leave if you’re not ready for that… For something more with me.” 

“I love you, but I… I don’t think I see a future with you.” 

“Give me a week. A week, and I’ll be back to normal. A week, and I’ll… I’ll be over you. Just a week and you’ll have the old me back. It’s that easy, I promise.”

“I kinda wanna give myself a concussion so I can forget about you and not think about you twenty-four-seven.” 

(pt. 1) | (pt. 3)

[seaheaded]

𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐄

cregan stark x fem!reader

synopsis: everything you had from the moment you joined the dance of the dragons was ash in the wind — a metaphor you remembered queen rhaenyra using. yet, even after the losses, you could not find in yourself the will to give up on the world so easily. surprisingly, the wolf of the north seemed to care about your thoughts.

7.4K words

warnings: mentions/descriptions of death and war, violence and blood (brief), fire and blood spoilers, light angst, some canon divergence, making out, english is not my first language.

notes: i wrote this out of nowhere idk i was bored and paused my other works to write some silly stuff. i hope you guys enjoy it :))

“His eyes find you with the ease a compass points North.”

If you were not familiar with the princess — even in familiarity there were limits to be found in your interactions at times — you would not have scoffed at the words when she said them. In truth, you were glad she found you to be an amusing companion, or you would find yourself in a complicated position compared to the one you were in now.

I found a friend in her. Those were the words she used to describe you to her grandfather, Corlys Velaryon, when she demanded to remain close to you during the time of your arrival at the Red Keep. She sat beside the bed you woke up on, with a gentle smile and a tray on her lap, that she passed to you with both enthusiasm and worry.

You fainted outside of the Gate of the Gods, she told you then, as you ate bread and cheese for the first time in so long, savoring it in silence.

After that, Baela told you about the euphoria taking over King’s Landing as she helped to dress your aching body in clean clothes. It was unexpected, the joy spreading across the city, and spoken about with bewilderment. However, you understood it. Growing up like the rest of the small folk — as one of the most fortunate ones before you lost your parents two years prior — , you could relate to the relief of finding something to believe in again. Hope, as faint and ephemeral as it was, meant a lot when you barely had reasons to keep you standing on the ground instead of lying below it. Their fight differed from the soldiers’, but they fought for life nonetheless.

It was strange to think that if you were still one of them, you would probably sing about the events you were now part of in taverns. Would you ever find amusement in such songs again?

Following the people and most of the dragons, the euphoria had died as well, by the hand of the subject of almost every conversation winding the halls of the Red Keep since his arrival: Lord Cregan Stark.

Indeed, he was the formidable warrior you had heard about. With his army, he marched into the castle, his large sword in hand and a scowl that displayed pure frustration, alarming all.

You could comprehend why he was mad. Time was precious, after all, and he had spent his coming to King’s Landing, only to meet crumbs of the battle he and his men were promised. However, Stark’s judgment poured like ceaseless rain from that moment on, and you deemed his behaviour overly brutish at times.

The only thing that comforted you in those days was the company of Baela and Rhaena.

You shook your head.

“He looks at me that way because he suspects me,” You replied, watching the skirt of your dress getting kicked with each step. “I’m afraid he wants to chop my head off.”

Baela paused in her steps, pulling you to do the same.

“Do not say things like that,” She frowned at you. “Out of all people, you are the least deserving of any sort of punishment.”

This matter had been discussed before. According to Baela and Rhaena, Lord Stark may have brought the harshness of winter with him and cast it upon all people residing in the castle, but you would not be a subject of his penalty. They would not permit it.

Unfortunately, even with their reassurance, you found yourself tense as you rested your head on the pillow. Aside from the fact that he was still considering taking the lives of those he deemed traitors, and you did not wish to give him a reason to think of you as disloyal — as Rhaenyra once did — , you were still cautious about trusting your unconsciousness at night.

Clicking your tongue, you resumed your walk, and Baela fell into step with you.

“I apologise,” You said. “I just feel… Well…”

The gardens were finally coming into view, and you raised your gaze to the colorful landscape. Something inside you turned. All you could think of was the way the grass looked after the lethal kiss of dragon fire that night in Tumbleton. The smell, the smoke.

Addam. Dear Addam, the best of you all.

You still saw him and Seasmoke at times, the image of bodies on the burned grounds unwanted, but constantly plaguing your dreams.

“Hey,” Baela’s voice was gentle again.

Her hands found yours. Only then, you noticed they were shaking.

“Harm will not find you here, okay?” She continued. “And the way lord Stark looks at you... I think it holds mere curiosity. He is interested in you. Do not fear.”

There was no denying that you were a different sort of creature, compared to the royals and soldiers he knew. You were a bastard descendant, turned into a dragon rider, turned into a knight. But what even were you entirely? And why would he care about that?

“How do you know?”

“I have eyes,” Baela teased you. She intertwined your arms again as you entered the garden. “Do you not wonder what he thinks? From what Jace told me, he is a reflective man beneath the rest.”

You snorted. “Oh, you mean the way he walks like a bear, and that frown he has that is more like two bricks above his eyes?”

Baela’s small laughter grew louder like the chorus of a song people would stomp their feet to, and you found yourself giggling with her.

She tossed her head back. “Bricks—”

“Good morrow.”

You jumped like two scared chickens at the sudden voice coming from behind, and the laughter turned into gasps.

Cregan Stark’s scowl was adamant, it seemed. Even in the presence of Princess Baela’s lively laughter, it did not quiver. You would only judge him for it, or maybe laugh at the precision of your previous comment, if you did not feel guilty. He had undoubtedly heard your jest.

“My lord,” The two of you greeted together.

Cregan Stark stared at you as if he expected something else to come out of your mouth, causing your blood to boil beneath your skin.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Baela’s drifting between you and the man. She had a small, close-mouthed smile adorning her face. You wanted to pinch her to drop it.

“I suppose my lord wants a moment alone with the dame?” She asked.

Cregan Stark blinked, turning to her.

“I would, princess. Thank you.”

“Is this even suitable?” You asked as your anxiety grew, but the whisper passed by like a needle falling into the sea.

Still, you took the opportunity of the lord’s attention on the princess while she walked away to make him out.

It was hard to notice anything about him with the fleeting glances you exchanged before, but now, the light breeze of the morning caused his brown hair to dance over his face, although he did not seem to mind. Part of being a northerner is becoming used to harsher winds, you supposed. He wore his leathers, heavy garments compared to the ones you saw in the south your entire life, but the fur cloak in which he arrived at the castle had been discarded. That way, the emblem of his house caught your attention more than before, gleaming under the sun.

You looked away from the wolf on his chest when he turned back to you.

“Dame,” He nodded in greeting.

Since you were knighted by the late queen Rhaenyra, the word was attached to you. You preferred being called by your name, the way you grew up used to, and the way Addam, Baela, Rhaena, and Prince Jacaerys did it — although the last one spoke it with some disdain for some time.

Perhaps, the dislike for the title showed in your face against your will, because the lord frowned.

“Have I offended you?” He asked.

“No, my lord. I have something else on my mind.”

“May I ask what that is?”

“You may, but I will not answer.”

The scoff he let out possessed a hint of mirth, and was accompanied by a squint of his eyes, wandering over your visage.

Once again, you turned your head away. This time, you picked a leaf from the large bush beside you and twisted it in your hand for a distraction.

You hoped he would simply say what he wished to say and be done with it.

He cleared his throat. “I have been meaning to ask you a few questions.”

“Go on.”

“But why would I ask questions that you will not answer?”

You shrugged. “I will not answer that question, but you can ask others.”

“And you will answer them?”

You pretended to consider. “Perhaps.”

He hummed.

“Did you expect the words that would be said about you when you became a dragonseed?”

That was the last thing you imagined he would ask.

Was he indirectly asking you if you had become one for the recognition? You hoped not, because you already felt bad enough for being the only one alive at times.

“What do they say about me?” You asked, but the question held no real interest.

“That it is a surprise that you are alive,” He paused, thinking. “They started to call you ‘the last dragonseed’ after you survived the battle In Tumbleton.”

There it was again, the unhappiness of recalling that event causing you to feel sick.

“Nothing special about that.”

“I would say there is.”

“Are you accusing me, my lord?”

He hesitated, blinking a few times. “What?”

Your exhale trembled.

“I am aware that my dragon did not interact with the battle the same way the others did, but it was not for the lack of trying. She protected me, and fought briefly.”

Even after almost turning on you after the clash with Vermithor and Tessarion, you could not think badly of Silverwing. She had not offered herself to be a weapon the way you offered yourself to be a soldier.

You feared her cries would forever echo in your mind.

“I will not ask about that,” Lord Stark said, strangely compassionate. “My curiosity lies in your journey to the Red Keep.”

“Well," You gathered yourself. "I went to different places. I tried to find my dragon, or a way to Princess Baela. To no avail, of course.”

“So, you walked back to King’s Landing.”

You nodded. “I thought I would find Queen Rhaenyra here. I wanted to share with her the details of my friend's brave deeds, but she was already dead, and so was her brother.”

"Your friend?"

"Addam of Hull."

He nodded.

After another silent moment, he spoke. “I did not mean to accuse you of deserting battle or fleeing, dame. I simply am not familiar with you.”

But you wish to? You thought. How strange.

“I see,” You picked the leaf apart with small pullings. How could you change the subject and stop talking about those damned days? With a lighter tone, you tried. “I thought you were judging me from the moment you saw me, honestly.”

He frowned. “What is there to judge you for? You fought hard. Or so I’ve heard.”

“From who?”

Cregan Stark shifted in place, taking one of the hands from behind his back and levelling it up against his ribs as if he was measuring something as tall as them. “A boy. Very young. He has a wild look in his eyes.”

“The Blackwood boy?”

“So, you are acquainted. ”

“Barely. We met briefly after the battle.”

You pulled a piece of the leaf again.

“He said you were not the most skilled soldier…”

Something was missing from his sentence.

“But?” You lifted your gaze to him.

“It is a rather memorable description.”

“Tell me.”

“He said something along the lines of you making up for the lack of prowess by swinging your sword around manically, the way unfaithful husbands do with their cocks. Only yours is deadly.”

At first, you did not even move, taking in the words that had apparently come out of a child’s mouth.

Then, the bark of laughter that left your mouth shocked both of you, and you brought both hands to your mouth to muffle the sound. You had heard real and hurtful insults before, so if this was supposed to be one, it did not affect you. It had the opposite effect. You could not stop laughing.

Like unfaithful husbands do with their cocks? What sort of menace was the young boy to talk about people this way?

You wheezed, letting the feeling subside before attempting to speak again.

“I apologise, my lord. This is the most ridiculous way someone has ever described me.”

The corner of his lips twitched, giving into a smirk that made him look younger and somewhat teasing.

“So you didn't,” He said.

“What?”

“Expect the words said about you.”

You smiled and shook your head. “No. Did you?”

“Of course not,” He said with a small laugh. “But you seem delighted to hear it.”

"I take no offense in it, my lord. I have always been better with a dagger, anyway. Never had the money to buy, or the time to practice with a sword before going to Dragonstone.”

“You have some skill with the dagger?” His curiosity seemed to have spiked again.

“Certainly not as much as you do with a sword,” You replied quickly, warning him. Then, you jested. “Don’t make assumptions about me so quickly, my lord.”

He did not answer for a few seconds after that and simply looked at you again. Yet, you could notice the weight of the thoughts running through his head. The coldness of his eyes had melted completely, replaced by a light you were not familiar with.

“Perhaps you should follow your own advice,” He said, quieter, as if you were not alone in the garden.

There was no bitterness or mockery in his voice.

Cregan Stark was a quick learner, you noticed. He did not break the walls around you with the sort of honesty that made you angry, he walked to the gates with the sort that made you comfortable to comply.

So he did hear it. You were both mortified and thankful he was not being mean about it.

“You are a strategist.”

“You keep up with it quite well.”

“I agree.”

He huffed another low chuckle.

“I believe we have both been studying each other,” He said. “But I would prefer it if we did it differently from this moment forward.”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you mind coming closer instead of running away from me?”

Your heart sang.

Cregan Stark was no bastard, but what a bastard he was for causing that.

“I would like that, my lord.”

The nightly breeze was a welcome remedy after a nightmare. It hit your sweaty skin like a bath of fresh cool water on a warm day.

Tonight, it felt cooler. Winter was indeed beginning to influence the weather. Even then, the breeze was not any less welcome than on other occasions.

You rested your forearms on the balcony, humming a song as you watched the city to prevent yourself from thinking about the memories that had recently tormented your mind and heart.

Oh, tell me Sabine

Are your leaves still green

What did you last see

The Stranger or Catherine?

Sabine, was she heaven?

Did her honey usher pleasure

They say you never relished me

But not why

You leaped into the sea

Your corse’s roots run

The ground bursts for dirt

Tell me where to hide

From your song

My worst wrong

Your first love was sow in barren

Yet your arms I see growing

Catherine you won’t reach

For your sake

Refrain from longing

Your humming was soon joined by the sound of steps coming from the dark hall, where you paced mere minutes ago, and when you tilted your head to find the owner of the sound, you quickly turned away so he would not see the giddy smile stretching over your face.

You would not admit it, but you expected it to be him. Not deep down, but all over. Painted on your face with warm cheeks, on your arms and back with a shiver.

When his steps came to a haunt with the squeak of his boots against the floor, you greeted him, still watching the scenery.

“My lord.”

He did not answer, but a couple of seconds later, he appeared beside you.

You had noticed before that Cregan Stark could be silent when he wished, but it did not stop surprising you when he was suddenly there.

“Was that you singing?” He asked.

“Humming a tune, not singing. But yes.”

“The Leaves of Sabine.”

His amused and mischievous expression came back when your gaze snapped at him with wide eyes.

“You know The Leaves of Sabine?”

“It is certainly not a northern song, but my late wife was infatuated with it.”

He stopped, wetting his lips, and you could see the recollection of a memory passing by him.

“She used to say she would sing it to Rickon, my son.”

The wind cooled your skin again.

You were never as informed about Cregan Stark’s life as someone from court or interested in gossip would possibly be, so the mention made your smile fade.

You thought about his little boy. Did his father sing to him?

Yours did.

At first, you wanted to step back from asking anything, but you remembered the eagerness to keep you close that the young man had exhibited these past two days. He did not have to speak for you to notice he wanted you there, but he never refrained from commenting either.

Not to mention the obvious…

Would you mind coming closer instead of running away from me?

“My condolences.”

“Thank you. It's okay, now.”

You swallowed. “Maybe you should sing to little Rickon, then.”

“Me?” He asked, incredulous. “It would cause the poor boy to cry, not to sleep.”

If a year ago, you were told that Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, would pour a newfound joy over your now shattered life and make you laugh freely around him, you would be careful to never cross paths with the person delivering the message again, for you feared people that spit crazy beliefs on others’ faces.

Now, there were you. Smile squinting your eyes and shoulders shaking.

“That only makes me want to hear you sing more, my lord.”

“Oh, no. I would do anything you asked but that.”

You bit your cheek. “Would you?”

He was already watching you when he agreed with a nod. Waiting, you noticed.

“Anything?”

“Go on.”

You thought. “No, but I will remember that, my lord. When I want something, I will tell you.”

“I will wait, then.”

You wished to know what went through his mind when you did not hold back from teasing him this way. He varied from holding everything inside or pouring it out in small but heavy amounts. You never knew what it was that he kept — though you enjoyed imagining it was the same you did.

“What brought you here in the dead of the night?” He asked, changing the subject.

The answer came meeker than you wanted to.

“Nightmares.”

“I see.”

He did not touch the subject, and that was something you appreciated.

You knew that he read you easily, the way you liked to believe you did him, but he did not hover, did not push you to speak of your pain. You wondered if he knew about avoidance as you did, having lost his family members in such a short period — for a man like him.

Aside from that, you wanted to know if he secretly waited for you to let your secrets out. Does he wonder what I have seen? Does he not know it already? All had heard of Hugh’s betrayal, of your and Addam’s escape, Tumbleton’s tragedies, and dragons dancing in the sky. In the company of young Benjicot Blackwood, he would certainly hear the details about those.

But your person? The life before? Your parents?

You caught yourself hoping he would be around for a long time, so you could both discuss intimate matters like those, and wanted to punish yourself for such desires.

Before you could attempt to shift the subject, he moved. His body was now turned to you, and you could see his hand finding something in the pocket of his pants.

He revealed a small, grey handkerchief.

“May I?”

Without thinking much of it, you nodded.

The fingers of his empty hand found your chin. His touch was lighter than the breeze. He tilted your head up just barely, and brought the handkerchief to your face.

You observed the way his expression became strained with attention, contrasting his hands as he patted your sweaty skin dry softly.

The fabric touched your forehead first, following a pat down to your cheeks. Then, he paused, turning the handkerchief around and passing it to his other hand, repeating the process on your other side. When he reached the area around your mouth and chin, his lips parted and his blue eyes met yours for a brief moment before patting that, too.

“There,” He sighed the word when he was done. “Your neck?”

“No need,” You mumbled, feeling shy. “Thank you.”

Then, he turned the handkerchief on his hand, folding it the way it was when he pulled it out of his pocket. Your eyes traced the movements.

“Would you…” You gestured towards the fabric “I could clean it for you.”

He shook his head.

“There is no need,” He said, placing the handkerchief back into its place. “I do not mind.”

“You don't mind the sweat?”

“Cleaning it myself.”

“Oh, right,” Find me, Stranger. I am ready. “Of course.”

He glanced back at the passage of the balcony, the moonlight casting shadows into the dark hall beyond it. His eyes then shifted to you, descending from your face to the hand that he was now reaching out for.

“My lady.”

Before you could protest, his lips pressed against your damp skin with a kiss.

You dared not move for the short moment that seemed to end it too soon for you to savor it, but when he released you, you pulled the sweaty hand back, covering it with your own.

The apology in your expression must have been evident, because Cregan Stark shook his head once again, and before taking his leave, he repeated:

“I do not mind.”

You stood on that balcony longer than you prided yourself on. Alone, catching the breath that had been petted and kissed away. Then, as your mind went back to his firm voice and gentle touches while you made your way back to your chambers, you realised…

He had addressed you as a lady.

It would be deadly silent if not for the sound of the thunder outside and Baela’s impatient pace, which without a doubt reflected the worry in her mind.

“He cannot do such a thing,” She said, “Aegon will be king. He commanded him to spare Corlys.”

“Sister,” Rhaena sighed.

The two of you sat at the round table, facing Baela.

Rhaena rested her arm on the table long ago, and now she lifted her hand to massage the spot between her brows. The meeting in the throne room had taken a toll on her the same way it did with you and Baela, but it revealed itself through exhaustion and anxiety, rather than restlessness.

You, on the other hand, rested both arms on the table, eyes fixated on the wood and mind drifting back and forth towards Corlys Velaryon’s honesty and Cregan Stark’s determination. What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness has to end, were Corlys' words.

You did not doubt that the murder of Aegon II was not a bad decision. Yet, more than that crossed the mind of the Warden of the North.

Now, it was hard to think about him with affection. Your first impression had drifted back and covered him like smoke when he sat on the wooden bench in front of the throne and condemned Corlys to death.

You had not played the game as long as he or your beloved friends did, but you could feel yourself moving the pieces on the board as you had learned to do as one of the dragonseeds under Prince Jacaerys’ training.

There were still conclusions to be made, but you were certain of your decision when you first spoke.

Baela and Rhaena had spent the past minute discussing the current state of things, so your voice silenced them.

“I will speak to him.”

Your gaze shifted, from the table to the sisters, waiting for an answer. Their faces were confused. It was visible that they were not expecting you to come forward.

Rhaena called your name, extending her hand so you could hold it. Her thumb caressed its back, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

“Do you think he will listen to you?” It was Baela who asked. It was not in a mocking manner, but rather a perplexed one. “He does not seem to enjoy being told what to do.”

Gathering all the confidence you had left, you shook your head.

“I will not tell him what to do,” You said. “I will speak to him, and let him know he is wrong.”

“I have a feeling that he would appreciate that even less,” Rhaena said.

“What other choice do we have?” You asked, caressing Rhaena’s hand back. “I do not want to see your grandfather die, too. I am not a princess, or a lady, but…”

Cregan Stark had called you a lady before. He had demonstrated affection and respect that night in the balcony, and on every other small interaction. You appreciated it, and wanted to believe he was better and smarter.

Baela approached you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“You understand that we both see your sacrifices, do you not?” She asked.

You were ready to reply, but she cut you.

“I do not speak of your growing affection for the lord as a sacrifice for us,” She said. “But the way you hold back from giving yourself to him entirely. I can see it. I know what it is like. But he… He might not be as you believe, and I do not want to see you hurt because of it.”

“Are you asking me not to try?”

She hesitated. “I am doing my best to think about your feelings. I do want you to try, but you are our friend, and I want you to remember that.”

“My apologies, but I do not see how you could convince someone so stubborn,” Rhaena said.

“Baela convinced him to spare her rescuers earlier,” You shrugged.

It was impressive. You were used to Baela’s intrepid nature, but seeing Cregan Stark smile and letting her ‘keep her dogs’ as she waved a sword around and threatened those trying to harm the men who had saved her raised your spirits.

“This is different,” Rhaena said.

You sighed. “I know. But Aegon’s wish to spare him has not been heard.”

There were no other ideas. All of you seemed to fall into a silent agreement that nothing else would grow in that soil.

“You will speak to him, and if he does not change his mind, do not let it break your heart, do you hear me?” Baela warned you. “He is a stubborn and cold man, beneath it all.”

Funny.

To you, it was the opposite. He was stubborn and cold outside, while the flicker of warmth and kindness hid inside.

But there was something to be doubted about Cregan Stark’s person, indeed: How far did that stubbornness, pride, and control go?

You nodded.

What was the threat of a broken heart to someone who had experience in putting it back together?

Ice, the sword, was magnificently frightening. Its blade was wider than your palm, and even on Cregan Stark’s back, the length did not contract to one less threatening.

Now, it rested over his lap.

“My lord.”

His gaze lifted from the blade he sharpened, ceasing his motions.

“My lady.”

“Dame.” You corrected.

He traced your face, trying to unmask the reason behind your sternness. In truth, you had planned to speak kindly, but you would be lying to yourself and him with false gentleness. You did not wish to lie today.

“Aye,” He said, carefully. “May I ask—”

“I would like to question you instead, my lord,” You said. You held your skirts, approaching the small sofa where he sat. You stood in front of him. “May I?”

“You may,” He responded immediately, but the puzzlement in his tone was clear.

“Are you aware that Corlys Velaryon opened the gates for you and your men even after the end, my lord?”

The confusion quickly became annoyance. Cregan Stark turned his head away from you, analysing your question.

When he lifted his head, he was scowling again.

“So, that’s what this is about?” He asked. “You are here to interrogate me on behalf of the traitor of kings.”

You frowned.

“Aegon II was a usurper and a threat to the realm.”

“What does that change about Velaryon’s actions?”

“It was not a simple betrayal. Do you know what Aegon was like?”

“This is not about Aegon II.”

“No?” You asked. “Why would it not count?”

“I would have to spare Lord Strong, and all the others if I thought this way.”

“It is not the same.”

“On that, we agreed. Corlys Velaryon’s betrayal was worse. At least the others were not turncoats.”

“Both times, I know he asked for peace. Is it not the same you are doing now?”

“I am serving peace, not asking for it.”

“This is what he did by poisoning Aegon. And it was not his direct action or command, either,” You shook your head. “It is clear to me now. You took control to make up for not being able to meet battle after deciding to march two years later, did you not?”

He got up then, laying the large sword on the sofa and turning to you with a posture less restrained than the one he usually had. Just like the day the doors opened to the large wolf of the north. Bitter.

“Do you feel remorseful for that, my lord?” You continued. “Is that the reason why you are so adamant—”

“My absence was justifiable, and so is my sentence for Corlys Velaryon. Do not toy with me.”

“The future king agreed to spare him.”

“He is a boy. The reason why he agreed was because of the whispers of his sisters.”

“His sisters seem to understand the needs of the realm, then.”

“Oh, indeed,” He said, sarcastically. His eyes sharpened. “They whisper in your ear too.”

You bit your tongue. “I am not a child.”

“Yet you let yourself be manipulated?”

“I do not let myself be manipulated, I chose to be here. Do you think I needed to be tempted to speak to you? That I was scared to come?”

“You seem out of place to me.”

“I am not,” You bit back. “Although, I can see you feed off the fear you have cast upon the others.”

He shook his head with surprise. “I am protecting the future of this land.”

“Yet you would let it bleed again!”

“In what way would I do that?!”

“The execution of Corlys Velaryon will only provoke revenge. His son, Alyn, possesses navy power and could easily blockade multiple cities. You know that. It should not be difficult to understand that this would only extend the war you wish to end.”

In the short absence of your argument, the sound of fire flickering in the fireplace became as loud as the storm brewing, mingling with both of your heavy breaths, which only now did you come to realize were closer than ever before — although not as close as once you had wished.

“Is that the point you came here to make?”

His voice was quieter now, thicker with hesitation. He was tired of speaking loudly as you were before.

You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the wolf on his chest.

You were tired too. For too long now, in fact.

“Yes.”

“If it was not for the good of the realm, would you let me proceed?”

You thought of Baela and Rhaena’s faces. The burnt scar across Baela’s cheek. My friends. Girls who had lost so much in this war, once again losing family and watching battles unfolding.

The understanding of such pain came with the will to not let it befall those you adored without trying to stop it first.

“I see your argument, my lord,” Your tone was hushed as well. You lifted your gaze to his. “If not for the good of the realm, the will to see you would be weaker, perhaps. But I would still be here. I have seen King’s Landing from places that you never had to. It is the main reason why I am here. But I care about my friends, too. I would never forgive myself for not trying to protect them.”

Not again.

“My last question is: as you look forward and see the deaths, do you care?”

“You forget that winter has come, dame.”

“Or do you? When my city becomes ruins, who do you think I will blame?”

That silenced him.

He took a step back, blue eyes slightly wider.

“If…” You fisted your skirts, shutting your eyes. When you opened, you did not let it waver. “If you would do only one thing that I ask for, my lord, let it be this. Do not sing for me, but let the city do it with songs of peace.”

The rain washed the blood of Larys Strong’s decapitated head, but it kept flowing from his body. Then, when you least expected, Cregan raised his sword again and sliced off his clubfoot.

For some reason, that made you hiss like you had not done when the head fell.

“Small favours, I suppose,” Came the voice of Benjicot Blackwood, who stood beside you. He looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. “Imagine having to worry about a foot in hell.”

You did not reply, but tilted your head at the comment.

“Who is it now?” He asked the other woman beside him. His aunt, Alysanne.

“The Velaryon,” She whispered, in a way you could barely hear above the heavy rain. “Now, shut up. His family is here.”

Her eyes met yours above the boy’s head, and she offered a polite smile that you tried your best to return.

Your lips trembled, and you knew it was not only because of the cold. If not for the rain, the tears falling down your cheeks, which matched Rhaena and Baela’s, would be a clear sign of your grief. Not only for Corlys Velaryon, but for the city you never grew to love, but learned to mourn for those who would never find anything better.

They would die there.

Rhaena stood between you and Baela, an arm intertwined with her sister’s, and her other hand holding yours. Her head was raised, but her eyes were cast down.

Baela, on the other hand, stood and stared. She was like a statue in place. On the receiving end of her piercing stare, stood the warden.

Cregan was soaked to the bone. His hair was glued to his face, and his cloak would protect his body if he had chosen to wear it, but he did not. The cold walked with him there.

He watched the body of Larys Strong be dragged away, then tossed his head up, lifting a hand to wipe his eyes from the downpour. He did not look tired, but the job was not welcoming in that weather.

Then, he turned around, and extended his arm as if to motion the guards to stop.

Everyone watched intently as he approached them.

“What is going on?” Benjicot asked for no answer.

Cregan then walked back to the center of the patio, raising his head for all to see him.

“The Sea Snake will not die today. As the hand of future king, Aegon III, I will grant his wishes to spare him.”

Immediately, the crowd erupted into enthusiastic and bewildered conversation.

Your head snapped to Rhaena. She let out a surprised cry, embracing her sister tightly as her hand pulled you closer to them.

“I thought you said you did not manage to convince him,” She said, loud only for the three of you to hear.

Baela smiled, victorious, hugging you with one arm.

“It was what I thought it happened,” You said, completely lost. “He was stubborn like you said.”

“What did you offer him, then?”

“Offer?” You frowned. “I… I didn't offer anything.”

When you looked back to find the man, he was gone.

You bolted through the halls.

The fabrics of your dress felt heavy in your hold, even heavier now that they were wet after standing under the ceaseless rain for a long time, and dripped water behind you as you followed the path from the previous evening — the one that led to Cregan Stark’s chambers.

That day had awakened dark, and so were the shadows being cast by the columns and window frames, limiting a bit of your vision as you tried not to misstep your way up the stairs.

There were no men outside his doors, so you pushed the heavy wood without knocking.

He walked out of the right side of the chambers quickly. He had Ice in his hands, but when he saw you, the desperation in your face, and the quickness of your breath, he lowered it.

His gaze studied you briefly, then he offered a polite nod, the same one he gave you the first time you talked.

“Dame,” He greeted.

You did not think before letting your feet take you forward. You did not speak, or greet him back. Instead, you welcomed yourself over him.

He froze when your arms embraced his shoulders, but you did not move away.

“Thank you,” You exhaled into his wet hair. Your head was nested over the covered space between his neck and shoulder.

You could not see him or his reaction to this, but you hoped it was not a scowl. Please, you thought. Although, you did not know what exactly you wanted either. Anything, perhaps. Whatever he had to offer.

You felt one of his arms wrapping around your middle, glued to his, and the other half of his body turning as he extended his arm. Then, came the sound of Ice’s blade, resting somewhere.

Lastly, his other hand found your head, caressing your soaked mane.

“You spared him,” You said, still stunned.

“You asked me to.”

You opened your eyes, exhaling in the comfort of his embrace. Then, you separated yourself from him.

His reaction was immediate, His arms rested beside him, and he stood erect and serious. The soldier he was.

“Did you spare him, and the city, because I asked you to?” You questioned, quietly. “I came to talk and make you see my side. I only pleaded for your mercy out of desperation.”

“You did,” His eyes darted between yours. “Make me see, that is. I apologise for my reaction, I… I think I am used to my authority and not to being told what to do.”

A tired smile crossed your lips before it fell.

“I did not tell you to do anything.”

“Yes, I know,” He agreed quickly, taking a step closer. “What I mean is that, even then, I find myself willing to do whatever you want.”

“I know you are no fool,” He continued. There was hesitance between his phrases, as if he was figuring out what he wanted to convey. “You see the way I look at you.”

The question flickered in his eyes. You responded with a nod.

“I also find myself thinking that this is not enough,” He sighed. “When you tried to convince me to spare Corlys Velaryon, I imagined you were being selfish for your friends. Then, you spoke of the city, of ruins, and I discovered the selfish one was me. I am not the best man in the world, and I will admit that much.”

“I am selfish, too,” You whispered.

He hesitated even longer this time. “For agreeing with my point about treason, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“That does not make you selfish. You are more considerate. You are kind. And… you were right.”

When your eyebrows shot up, he nodded.

“We got here too late. There was nothing left for my army. I was spiteful.”

“You were not entirely wrong for what you did,” You said. “You put an end to the war.”

“It would relent, if not for you pointing this out and making me understand,” He looked down. “I could not let myself be the cause of more destruction, nor your hatred. I did not come here to be that man.”

You closed your mouth, understanding it.

Deciding to consent to your wishes, you stepped forward as well, until you found him as close as he was on the previous night.

Your hands found one of his, enveloping it and bringing it close to you. Then, you lifted your head.

This time, there was no mirth, no confusion, and no anger. He was there as he was, and you could feel it in your bones.

“I am not the best person in the world, either, Cregan.”

His gaze fell to your mouth when his name came out of it.

“You are better than me.” His other hand came to rest on your face, and he smiled at you. “If I were you, that night on the balcony, I would ask you to be mine immediately.”

You mimicked his actions, removing one of your hands from his and bringing it to his face. “Well, you did spare Corlys Velaryon. In exchange, I would like to give you the only thing I have to offer.”

He understood your words instantly.

“I did not do that because I wanted something from you.”

You almost threw your head back, not being able to contain your laughter this time.

“That is exactly why I am here,” You told him.

“Tell me, then,” He asked. “That you want to be my lady.”

You hesitated.

“Will you listen to me when I talk about my nightmares and the person I was before I became a knight?”

“Every day,” He promised. “Will you let me take care of you and ask for your counsel?”

“I will.”

All that was left for you to do was mold yourself in his hold as his mouth searched for every bit of flesh and breath in yours.

His arm that previously held your middle was back there, pulling you tight enough to make you feel hot under the wet fabric, and his other hand rested on the side of your neck, tilting your head gently as your damp lips met with wet sounds that made you and him grunt softly whenever they collided perfectly.

Soon enough, he walked with you in his hold, provoking your hands to pull him by the shoulder and grip his hair.

Your backside found the heavy table of the room, but instead of sitting you on top of it the way you expected, Cregan rested his hands on your hips to keep you there, making arch your back as his mouth found your neck.

“Don't worry, for I will not take you here,” He said. “But, please...”

“I’m not worried,” You gasped, closing your eyes. “I would not mind if you did.”

He hummed, mouthing a spot on your neck continuously for a few seconds before raising his head.

“Not like this,” He kissed your lips once. “First, I will let you pass from a dame to a lady.”

You snorted, making him cease his movements.

“Are you mocking me?” He asked.

“No, I swear. It's just… I hate being called a dame.”

Cregan blinked. “You do?”

You nodded, laughing. “When I was knighted, I thought I was going to be called ser, like the rest. Then, Daemon Targaryen called me a dame. Oh, I hated it.”

The man laughed freely now.

“Every day,” He repeated. “I want to listen to you every day, my lady.”

The droplets of winter rain ran down your body, but in him you found warmth for a lifetime.

he licked his lips after kissing the back of her hand like a DOG!

wishing all of you a great day/night <3

unrelated, but i was thinking about making a character x bard reader fanfic. do you guys have any suggestions for what character should be her love interest?

[neiptune]

when you get me alone it's so simple

c/w: 1k wc, megumi is so head over heels in love with you he allows you to do his makeup for a halloween party, sappy and self indulgent and disgustingly sweet pls be nice i haven't written something in forever

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“When am I not being difficult according to you?”

The playful quip makes the cornes of your lips curl into an amused smile.

“Right. But I really think you should come”

Megumi holds your gaze with a seemingly impassive stare, lets the small interval of silence stretch for a second too long.

It’s not that he doesn’t like hanging out with his friends, he actually enjoys the idea of getting to be nothing more than a young man with an exceptionally low tolerance level for Nobara’s antics for once. However, a halloween party? Filled with obnoxious strangers who will get drunk and make a mess of Yuuji’s house? A mess that you have already promised will help to clean out?

Definitely not on his bingo card for an evening he could spend at the movies or in a quiet pub instead.

But then, there’s your strenuous perseverence. The disappointment you didn’t for a second attempt to hide still swarming in those big eyes, the pettish inflexion of your pitch when you had sputtered a what? What d’you mean you’re not coming?

And now there you are, curled up on the other end of your couch, sulkiness oozing from every glance you’ve spared him for the last half an hour.

“I want you there” you innocently cock your head and he feels something melt in his chest “it just wouldn’t be fun without you. Please come?”

Sometimes Megumi wonders if you know about the exhausting effort it takes him to whisk away thoughts a friend shouldn’t have, the way he’s almost lost his mind dwelling on the way you held on to his hand the entire way back to your apartment on the night he came to collect you from the bar, drunk and a giggling, clingy mess. He wonders if you understand just how deeply you can get under his skin and the way he hangs on to every word, every smile, each I want you there.

“Gumi?” you inch forward, brows knit and cool fingers gently grazing his arm.

Jesus, fuck.

“Fine. But I’m not staying to clean up”

You smile knowingly, a light shrug swallowing the of course you will almost spilling from your lips.

“Deal. And I get to do your makeup”

The dim light of your awfully small bathroom has gentle shadows settling into the curves of your collarbones and accentuates your jaw, the apples of your cheeks. There are only so many glances he can steal as the pitter-patter of rain on the window makes the perspective of spending the night out even less appealing.

Regardless, the warmth radiating from your skin and the smell of your perfume cloud his pathetically heightened senses, a multisensory madness that has his heart thumping painfully in his chest and the pads of his fingers tingling with need.

“Will you stop flinching?” only one of his eyes is open and you’re out of focus but that exasperated smile rings loud in his ears.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, it’s an instinctive reaction”

“I’m just using eyeshadow”

You finally allow his left eye to peel open and Megumi almost laughs at your focused stare, creases on your forehead expressing a deep dissatisfaction.

“What? Doesn’t suit me?” he quips “it’s probably because you keep smudging it—”

“I’m going for a dramatic look, you dolt!”

His eyebrows raise in mocking interest.

“Oh, apologies. What’s the issue, then? Not dramatic enough?”

“You’re being surprisingly chatty for someone who is usually very fucking quiet”

Megumi’s sarcastic comeback dies in his throat as you suddenly position yourself over him, not quite straddling his lap because you’re still standing but nevertheless exceptionally close to sitting on his thighs.  

“What are you— what is that?” his voice is thinner and he has to flex his hands to keep himself from positioning them on your hips.

Christ.

“Chill, man. It’s eyeliner. Don’t move, this is the most important part” and then you’re hovering above him once more, except this time you gently grab his chin to tilt his head upwards as you lean closer, so close he stops breathing.

You work quietly, in comfortable silence, although you’re at cotton swab number three and the result still doesn’t seem to fully satisfy you.

“You should wear makeup” it’s a comment made absentmindedly, Megumi can tell by the way you’re not even truly looking at him as you speak, way too absorbed by the task at hand “eye makeup, I mean. It looks really good on you”

“Yeah?”

There must be something in his inflection, because your hand comes to a halt for a second, then resumes its gentle work over his eyelid. All he gets is an affirmative hum.

“Someone would have to teach me how to do it”

He’s not sure where his boldness is stemming from, although he suspects the thumb gently brushing over the same spot close to the corner of his eye would make a reasonable source.

“I’m sure Nobara would be happy to” you quietly chuckle to yourself but this time it feels as if you’re avoiding his gaze on purpose and that just won’t do.

“Doesn’t your back hurt like this?”

“A little bit but I’m almost done with this eye. Are you uncomfortable? I can—” Megumi interrupts you with a gentle but firm hold of your waist, hands far bigger than yours pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You’re dumbfounded and he revels in your shocked expression, in the way you’re the one who doesn’t know how to handle something unexpected for once. In how good it feels to be in control.

“Don’t make it weird” the warning is playful but his hands are still on your waist and give it a light squeeze that has your stomach doing a weird flip.

“I— what? You don’t make it weird! Shut up, stand still” your entire face is on fire and the hoodie you’re wearing suddenly feels all too warm.

Megumi smiles innocently but complies, quiet and as immobile as a sorcerer's body can get.

You pretend not to notice the way he melts into your touch, how his body relaxes as he shuts both his eyes and finally lets you work in peace. No sarcastic remarks, no silly winces. Why does that do something to your chest?

It’s so easy, carefully lining his bottom lash line with your favorite liquid eyeliner. Without thinking, you cradle his face as you gently swipe your thumb over the freshly traced lines to smudge them just right.

But then his eyes flutter open right as you hold his face in your hands and is it your imagination or does the grip on your waist grow more solid in turn?

“Y’know” he murmurs in a way that is so unlike him, so intimate as his indigo gaze burns right into yours “actually, I wouldn’t want Nobara to be the one to do it”

[hongcherry]

stuck with you || c.sc (m)

Your road trip takes a turn for the worst and leaves you stranded during a winter storm. It's not long until the car gets chilly, but luckily for you, your boyfriend has an idea to keep you both warm.

❄️ Pairing: boyfriend!Seungcheol x Reader (afab)

❄️ Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Smut, fluff; Established relationship

❄️ Warnings: Pet names (baby, baby girl, princess, angel), unprotective sex (dont be like them), fingering, breast play, creampie, dirty talk, car sex so technically exhibitionism, reader is slightly inexperienced/shy (not a virgin tho)

❄️ Word Count: 3.7k

❄️ Project: @k-vanity's event. Prompt is "snow day/snowed in".

❄️ Author's Note: Honestly, I'm not sure about this one aha. This was meant to be posted last holidays, but I never got it finished in time. Now, I rushed it to meet this deadline sdfk;bjfdlsk. So... Please be kind 🥲

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Your idea of a mini road trip was going well. You were sharing memories with your sweet boyfriend, who you had dragged with you, filled with laughs and a few forced smiles. Sure, Seungcheol was grumbling fifty percent of the time, but the other fifty percent was genuine happiness… Well, he slept for fifteen percent so that other fifty wasn’t accurate. Nevertheless, you weren’t going to let his party-pooping butt rain on your parade.

However, what did ruin your parade known as a road trip was when your car started to break down in the middle of a snowy night. Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol let a few expletives slip from his pout. His hand was wavering in different directions as he lectured the car for being “a complete waste of a fucking car.” You would have found it amusing if it weren’t for the fact you were about to be stranded in a deserted area.

“Hurry and call for a pickup before either of our phones dies,” Seungcheol instructs as the car begins to slow to a stop.

You oblige quickly, looking up a local towing company and giving them a call. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a couple of hours to arrive due to the bad weather. Seungcheol curses once more before locking the already-locked doors, yanking out the keys, and tossing them onto the dashboard.

“We should have stayed at the hotel one more night like I said,” he huffs with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring out into nothing. Both of you are sitting in the dark as you let the situation sink in. Guilt is forming in your chest.

“I just wanted to get to the next city by the morning so we could see the festival,” you mumble. Seungcheol knows this already, but you feel it necessary to explain again. You didn’t anticipate or wish for this to happen.

Hearing your dejected voice, Seungcheol’s body relaxes as he turns to look at you. “I know, baby,” he sighs.

“Let’s move to the back so that we can be more comfortable,” he suggests. You’re about to open the door when he stops you suddenly. “Climb in from here. We don’t want the cold air in.”

“Oh, right,” you say sheepishly. It’s warm now since the heater was on before the car shut off.

Carefully, you squeeze through the seats to sit in the back. Once you’re seated, Seungcheol follows suit. He reaches back into the trunk and digs out the blanket you had packed.

He pulls you into his lap, wrapping the blanket around you. You tuck the ends of it behind Seungcheol so he can hold it in place with his back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel bad,” he speaks softly with a deep exhale.

You shake your head. “You didn’t—”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he chuckles and rubs his hands up and down your clothed thighs. “I’m just tired and grumpy.”

“Hm,” you hum and give him a small smile. “You are tired and grumpy.”

“Tired and grumpy Seungcheol is sorry,” he says, lips pursing in a tiny pout and voice slightly higher.

Giggling, you hit his chest playfully. “You’re forgiven.”

“Good. I hate when my baby’s mad at me.”

“I wasn’t,” you reply. “Now, go to sleep, Cheollie,” you smile.

Seungcheol nods, bringing you down for a quick kiss before he wraps his arms around your body. You lean forward to lay against him. With the warm air, blanket, and his heated body, you’re feeling hot; however, you know the temperature is going to drop soon.

As expected, the car grows chilly within thirty minutes.

You wake from your slumber with a shiver. Seungcheol’s head is leaned against the headrest, breathing evenly as he sleeps. You reach up and softly graze his cheek. It’s cold under your touch. Frowning, you cup his face to heat his skin. He stirs for a second and then flutters his eyes open.

“Are they here?” he questions, referring to the towing people.

Shaking your head you say, “No, you were just cold.”

“I’m okay,” he replies even though his body shivers as soon as the words come out. “You’re cold?”

“A little,” you confess. You let your hands leave his cheeks and land on his shoulders gently.

Seungcheol’s eyes roam your face, taking in the occasional shakes of your body from the low temperature.

“I have an idea,” he replies belatedly.

“For?”

“To make you less cold.”

“Oh?”

You stare at him in confusion. You figure he’s going to grab the second blanket in the trunk, but instead, he grips your hips and slides your body against his crotch.

“Oh,” you gasp, face warming at the implication. “But we’re in public.”

Seungcheol shrugs. “In the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm. I doubt anyone is going to come this way.”

You hold his shoulders firmly when he rolls his hips under you. The action has him rubbing your clit briefly. You tighten your grip on him.

“The towing people,” you explain, trying not to focus on Seungcheol’s movements.

“You said they’d be here in a few hours. I don’t need a few hours to get you to cu—”

“Cheol!” you scold his language. Seungcheol just smiles. “I thought you wanted to get warm. Not… that.”

He clears his throat and stops grinding against you.

You bite your lip to suppress the whine that wants to come out. His actions had felt good, and you admit silently you were feeling warmer as your body became aroused.

“Right. I mean, I don’t need a few hours to get you warmed up,” he corrects innocently.

“I’m not sure,” you answer hesitantly. “Cuddling works too.”

You’re not too experienced—Seungcheol having been your first a few months ago—so having sex in such an exposed space feels like you’re skipping some imaginary steps.

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Then cuddles it is. Let me get the other blanket.”

Seungcheol moves to reach backwards. With his back no longer holding the blanket, it pools around the both of you. The cold air hits your body, causing you to shiver again. Even with the second blanket, you will only be warm for a little bit before the coldness consumes you again. You could say the same about what Seungcheol proposed, but at least you would have more fun.

You stare at him as he gathers both blankets and wraps them around you again.

“What?” he asks when he sees the flint in your eyes.

“M-maybe I’ve changed my mind,” you say a little nervously.

“Oh?” he wonders. “You don’t have to. I’m really okay with just cuddling.”

Your hands on his shoulders slowly slide down until they rest flat on his chest. You can feel his heart pumping quicker as the seconds tick by.

“I-I just don’t want to go to jail,” you say.

Seungcheol grins, rubbing up and down your arms to warm them. “Like I said, I don’t think anyone is going to catch us, and the snow will slow down the towing people. Plus, I’m sure Soonyoung and Seokmin will come bail us out.”

You huff at his last sentence. “Why them?”

“Because if they can’t do it the normal way, at least they can cause a big enough distraction so we can escape.”

“Babe,” you whine. You don’t like the thought of being a fugitive.

“Relax, angel,” Seungcheol chuckles. “It’ll be fine, but you don’t hav—Hmph!”

Not wanting to repeat the conversation, you lean forward as he’s talking and press your lips on his.

Seungcheol grips your arms in shock but soon eases his hold once he gets his bearings. His hands move to your waist and pull you closer until your arms fold against his chest from the close proximity.

With a surge of boldness, you wiggle your arms away and readjust to grab onto the seat behind him for leverage. He moans into the kiss when you start circling your hips against his.

“Just shut up and get me warm,” you mumble into the kiss.

Seungcheol smiles against your lips as he nods. His cold hands slip under your shirt to push your bra up. He doesn’t want to get you completely naked since it’s cold, so this will do.

You sigh softly when he gropes your breasts, massaging them gently. The contact heats your body blissfully.

He pulls away from the kiss to look at you. “Feeling better already?”

“A little,” you reply meekly.

Seungcheol gives one last squeeze to your breasts before pushing your shirt up. A gasp leaves your mouth when the cold air hits your bare torso. You try to pull the material down, but he keeps a firm grip on it.

“Kinda wanna press you against the window like this,” he murmurs.

“C-Cheol!” you scold.

“What?” he asks, suppressing his wicked grin.

“People will for sure see us then! Plus,” you begin to pout more, “it’ll be cold.”

“You’ll warm up when I start fucking that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your face heats at his vulgar words. You’re not used to people speaking in such a way, but you can’t deny the way your walls tighten in anticipation.

“Think about it,” he suggests, then leans down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples.

Your lips part at the sudden difference in temperature on your chest. Seungcheol’s warm mouth feels so good.

Your hands move to play with his hair, fingers tugging on the strands occasionally.

Seungcheol pulls you closer to him as his eyes flutter close. He’s licking and sucking your nipple like it’s his favorite way to pass time. The sight itself makes you moan.

You can feel Seungcheol’s bulge press against your core, which makes your arousal pool in your underwear more. Hesitantly, you start grinding your hips against him. Though when Seungcheol hums against your chest and pulls away with a soft pop, you stop moving. Your hands fall away from his hair to land on his shoulders.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Make yourself feel good,” he reassures, giving your lips a quick kiss for encouragement.

“I-Is this right?” you question, moving your hips again albeit a bit slower.

He grins. “Whatever makes you feel good is right. Do you feel good right now?”

“I—kinda.”

“Kinda? Is there something else you want?” he asks, carefully pulling your shirt down and cupping your face.

Your eyes dart away from his brown ones. It seems you used all your bold moves earlier.

Seungcheol begins to glide his thumb across your cheeks lovingly.

“Show me what you want,” he instructs gently and offers one of his hands.

You glance at it. Seungcheol has used this tactic several times in the past. It’s a way for you to take charge in your own way. It isn’t that he makes you uncomfortable, but it takes time to get used to things you’ve never experienced before.

You’re grateful Seungcheol is so understanding. Some of your exes became exes for being the opposite.

Taking his hand, you push it down until it rests against his crotch.

Seungcheol smiles. “My good girl just wants to get to the main course, hm?”

His light attitude lessens your nervousness.

“Need to feel you,” you murmur.

“I need to feel you too, baby girl,” he agrees and leans up to capture your lips.

You lax at the feeling of his plush lips, hands sliding down his arms to play with his shirt. Seungcheol eases your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside as he grabs your wrists. He guides your hands under his shirt slowly. You feel his abs tense momentarily at the cool touch of your skin.

Once your hands are settled against his chest, he releases you. You take the opportunity to rub your hands along his torso, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles beneath your palms.

After a while, you finally pull away with a gasp.

“You give the best kisses,” Seungcheol compliments.

You grin. “I’ve gotten better?”

“You were never bad to begin with,” he chuckles. “But yes, you have improved.”

Your smile grows at his words.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he huffs as if it’s too much for him to bear.

“Now, we better hurry before help arrives,” he says and gently lays you back on the car seats.

The blankets get tangled, but Seungcheol pulls them away and leaves them on the floorboard. You supposed you don’t need them at the moment anyway.

Seungcheol nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and starts kissing your skin. His hands grab ahold of your sweatpants and pull them down. Before you can complain about the coldness, one of his hands slither between your legs to circle your clit.

“Gotta’ prep you a bit, okay? Then I’ll give you want, angel.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Seungcheol continues to pepper kisses against your neck, but you can tell his attention is elsewhere.

His fingers glide down and slip between your folds.

“I could slide in so easily right now with how wet you are,” he moans.

“T-then do it,” you say,

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Carefully, he slides one finger inside your dripping hole.

You bite your lip and remind yourself to relax.

Seungcheol stops kissing and simply rests his head against your shoulder. His eyes are closed as he pumps the single digit a few times before adding a second. You moan softly, legs spreading a little wider despite the small space.

“Doing okay?” he asks after a while.

“Yes,” you reply. “More, please.”

Seungcheol nods and slips in a third finger. However, not long after, he adds a fourth. He moves them slowly, not seeing the need to speed up when he’s saving that for later.

A gasp escapes at the stretch. It feels good, but each pump of his fingers makes you eager for his cock.

“Cheol,” you beg.

“Okay,” he says and removes his fingers. He brings them to his mouth and licks up your arousal. The lewd sight makes you want to look away, but you’re also mesmerized by how satisfied Seungcheol looks.

“When we get to the hotel, I’m going to eat you out for hours. You taste so fucking good,” he groans, then pushes his sweatpants down.

You turn your head and bite your lip. Seungcheol laughs and leans over you, arms caging you in.

“That a yes, princess?”

You peep at him and nod. “Yes.”

“That a girl,” he praises and pecks your lips.

“Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” he asks while aligning his tip to your entrance.

You nod, used to him saying that, but you know he means it.

Seungcheol waits for a second before easing inside. He slides in smoothly from how soaked you are. A small mewl comes from you. Although he prepped you, he’s still big and stretches you more than his fingers did.

As usual, the first few seconds are… indescribable. It doesn’t hurt as much, but you still need to get used to his size. The stretch is a mix of pleasure and pain—though the pleasure is more prominent.

“Oh, fuck,” Seungcheol curses while pushing more of his length inside.

“Feels good, Cheol,” you moan when he presses himself fully against you.

Seungcheol eyes flicker from where you’re connected to your eyes.

“Tell me when,” he instructs and rests his forehead on yours.

A minute ticks by until you tell him he can move. Seungcheol doesn’t waste another second and starts slowly gliding in and out of you. The sensation causes you to fill the car with your whimpers.

The coldness in the car seems to fade away with each thrust. The windows are fogging up and it’s getting a little stuffy; however, your focus is solely on Seungcheol’s cock rubbing against your walls heavenly.

His pace eventually increases as you relax more. He continues for some time until a certain sharp snap of his hips has you crying out.

“Shit, I—” Seungcheol begins to apologize.

“Again, Cheol. Please. Again.”

“A-are you sure? Did I hurt you?” he questions.

“No,” you beg with a cry. “Need that again.”

“Fuck, okay, baby,” he rasps.

Seungcheol pulls out most of the way then slams his hips forward. You gasp his name and clench around him. It’s a sight he wants to capture in his mind forever.

The heat in the car has increased and sweat beads are forming on both of your bodies.

You tug off your shirt and bra to get some air.

Seungcheol moans at the sight of your exposed breasts and moves a hand to grip one. He massages it in his hand and continues to snap his hips. He feels like he’s losing his mind slowly at how good you feel wrapped around him, but he wants to try something different.

“Come here, angel,” he huffs and pulls out.

Your lips dip down as you whine at the emptiness. Seungcheol coos at you, adjusting positions so he’s sat with you above him. He discarded both of your sweatpants fully in the process. He then guides his hard cock between your legs and slowly eases you down.

You moan loudly as your pussy gets filled once more. Your hands clutch his shoulders for stability and try not to get nervous at the new position. It’s not often you’re on top.

Sensing your worry, Seungcheol gives you a reassuring massage on your hips.

“I’ll guide you, okay?”

You nod.

Seungcheol smiles, lifting you until his tip remains then pushing you back down carefully.

Your eyes drift from his face to where you both connect. Seeing how his cock disappears makes you clench around him. The sight is arousing, and a sense of pride fills your chest seeing how much easier you can take him now.

Without realizing it, your hips begin to move. You start with the pace Seungcheol has set but gradually move faster. You become addicted to the feel of his cock against your walls and need to feel it more.

It’s not until your thighs start to burn that you slow in realization.

“Don’t slow down,” Seungcheol groans, eyes hooded as he rests his head back on the seat. “Fucking me so good, baby. I knew you could do it.”

“A-are you close?” you question, a little shy.

He hums while nodding.

“Keep moving,” he says, guiding your hips up and down. Seeing how fucked out he is spurs your movements to quicken. Eventually, Seungcheol’s hands relax on your body while he watches you bounce on his cock.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, eyes taking in your body above his. Your tits look so good and your pussy feels so tight.

Unable to stop himself, he grips your hips firmly and starts thrusting upwards.

You gasp, mouth hanging open as he chases his high. The sound of skin slapping skin feels loud in your ears, but part of you loves it. You love hearing and feeling how fast he’s sliding his cock in you. You love knowing you’re making him feel so good.

Seungcheol slams into your once more, a guttural groan escaping his mouth as his cum fills your insides. He gives you a few more shallow thrusts before he stills completely. His breathing is labored, and his eyes are shut as he floats back down.

You try not to move, but your orgasm is near, and you need a release.

Seungcheol’s eyes peel open after a few more seconds.

“You need help, angel?” he asks when he sees you trying not to squirm.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth and nod.

Seungcheol plants a kiss on your forehead, then adjusts your bodies. He leans against one of the doors while sitting you between his legs, back to his chest. He hooks one of your legs over his to spread you open. You’re so focused on Seungcheol that it doesn’t cross your mind how exposing the position is from the opposing window’s view.

Seungcheol runs his hands down your body, briefly squeezing your breasts before he slides them between your legs. He circles your clit with one hand and uses the other to slide into your dripping hole. He pumps his fingers a few times before pulling out to look at his hand.

His digits are covered with a mix of your arousal and his cum. The sight makes you squeeze your legs and for Seungcheol to moan deeply behind you.

“So messy just for me,” he murmurs, then plunges his fingers back into your cunt.

He moves both his hands quickly, bringing forth your impending orgasm.

“Play with your tits, baby,” Seungcheol rasps. “Don’t forget to make yourself feel good.”

You adhere to his request and bring your hands to squeeze your breasts. Your head falls back against his chest, moans spilling out of you nonstop as you pinch and fondle yourself while Seungcheol continues to circle and pump his fingers.

Seungcheol’s name falls from your mouth incoherently as you climax, your body slightly jerking in his hold as pleasure washes over your body.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praises in your ear. His fingers still move quickly until he feels you start to relax.

Seungcheol angles your face so he can kiss you. He holds you close, one hand pressing against your tummy while the other keeps your head in place. The kiss is sloppy, but neither of you care.

“You still cold?” he teases after he pulls away.

“No,” you mumble, hiding your face from him.

He laughs and leans down to grab your clothes. “If you are, we can go another round.”

“M-maybe we should wait. The towing people should be here soon,” you say.

Seungcheol nudges you and mumbles, “Arms.”

You comply, lifting your arms slightly so he can put on your clothes. He kisses your shoulder blade after he’s done. You both slide on your sweatpants again, then cuddle once more.

About fifteen minutes pass when bright lights shine nearby.

The worker eyes you both—taking in the fogged windows and disheveled clothing. It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Nevertheless, they say nothing and get started with trying to fix the vehicle.

Maybe the road trip didn’t go as planned, and maybe you’ll miss the festival, but at least you had some fun nonetheless.

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

taglist (tbh i forgot abt this but i will start doing it now! sorry!): @cheolcherries, @oncloudvii23, @mystikhal-blog, @lithelust, @doom-fics

[readwritealldayallnight]

A Stranger is a Friend You Haven’t Met Yet… (Part 2)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 5.5k words

(18+ mdni) warnings/tags: kinda barely enemies to lovers, tension, grinding, dry humping, finishing with clothes on, Ghost does not do feelings™️, mask stays on (for now)

‘Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst’.

That was something something you told yourself often, working as a woman in close contact with the military. Especially so when starting new assignments for the first time, landing on a new base, meeting new faces. More often than not the grand majority of those faces were men. Large, intimidating, burly men. Some of whom sometimes held certain feelings about a woman being brought in to work alongside them.

The first time you’d met Captain Price on yet another new base for yet another new assignment, shaking hands with the tall man, you’d once again repeated the familiar phrase to yourself. If only you could have known there was no real way to prepare for meeting the 141.

He walked you through numerous zig zagging hallway and corridors that made up the heart of the base, leading you towards the briefing room where you’d be meeting the rest of the task force your employer turned friend Laswell had assigned you to assist. Your work as a highly skilled translator meant that your unique credentials made you a vital asset to anyone you worked for. You were only a year out of finishing your degree when Laswell had scooped you up, seeing the potential in you.

As your mind shifted to her, you halted your steps, cursing yourself silently. You’d promised Laswell you would text her and let her know when you’d made it to your hotel safe last night. After the chaos of being left out in the dark, pouring rain at the wrong address following a 10 hour flight where they put your luggage on the wrong flight, being unable to find reception walking along a sketchy, desolate road in search of a way of calling a cab, being rescued by a large, mysterious, enticing stranger on a motorcycle, you’d forgotten to text Laswell before you crashed on the hotel bed that night.

It had equally slipped your mind the next morning when you woke up in a panic, only a few hours later due to the early start time of the briefing, shoving your still wet clothes into the questionable hotel dryer, hoping it would be good enough in time for your mad dash to the base. All this to say, the last 24 hours had left you frazzled, and you’d completely forgotten to get back to her.

“I’m so sorry Captain, I-”

“You’re welcome to call me Price, if you’d like. You’ll find we’re not always so formal ‘round here.” The older man replied, also pausing his foot steps so as to not leave you behind, offering a kind smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes.

“Price,” you corrected, offering him back the best smile you could muster up at that moment. “You’ll have to forgive me, I just need 60 seconds to contact Laswell, that’s all. I was supposed to-”

“Say no more.” He interrupts, holding his hands up as if in a display of mock surrender, taking one small step back towards the door to the briefing room. “If it’s Laswell, I don’t want to held responsible for upsettin’ her. Used up enough favours with her already to finally have her send you over our way.”

You offer him a genuine chuckle at that last comment, knowing that Kate is in fact more often than not bombarded with requests for your skills, and that the head of the 141 was one of those little birdies often chirping in her ear.

“I’ll give you a few minutes. Come in when you’re ready.” He kindly offers you before excusing himself into the briefing room. You take a steadying breath, pulling out your phone and quickly typing out a message to your friend, not wanting to cause a worse first impression than you might already be currently doing. The soft whoosh sound of your text being sent has barely touched your ears before you’re hiding your phone away, ready to get this show on the road.

Your hand is reaching out to twist the door handle, catching the tail end of Price’s deep voice telling someone that he’s “been tryin’ to get ahold of her for a long feckin’ time now.” before an excited Scottish accent adds “So it is a lass??”

‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ you thought one last time before opening the door and walking in to meet the 141.

“Last time I checked, yes, I’m still a ‘lass’.”

To your utter surprise, the transition into working alongside the 141 had been the easiest, dare you even say, the most fun, you’ve had in a long, long time. Price is a kind and fair leader, always looking out for his teammates. You, Soap and Gaz have gotten along with ease from the get go, the Sergeants taking an immediate liking to you.

“Is it really 11?” Gaz had asked you during that very first briefing between the five of you, a playful smiling stretching across his young, handsome face. Soap was gazing at you beside him with equal, genuine curiosity across his features.

“Yes, it’s 11.” You confirmed for them, used to the question at this point. It was a fair question, and you knew that. It wasn’t every day that they met someone who was perfectly fluent in six languages, fairly fluent in 3, and knew enough to effectively translate in another 2 languages. Sometimes, if you stayed on with a team for long enough, you forgot how ‘odd’ your work was, seeing people’s reactions for the first time, raving about how they wish they had your ‘gift’.

In actuality, your knowledge felt like the furthest thing from a gift, some days. Your skills were the result of hard work, blood, sweat and tears. You’d been raised in a household where 3 languages were spoken on a daily basis, and so though you did have that advantage early on in life, when you chose your path after high school graduation and decided to learn more than the 3 you already knew, you’d dedicated more effort to your pursuits than you ever had before.

Discovering your love for learning languages, your nose was never not in a book. This is how one of your first every contracts gifted you with the nickname that stuck with you to this day. Though you weren’t technically military, only working with them, the call sign was deemed too perfect not to be yours. This was something Soap was very curious about upon meeting you, and wasn’t shy to hide it.

“And the wee call sign? How’d a sweet lass like you end up being called that?” He questioned, earning a sideways glance from his superior, who was beginning to open his mouth to probably scold him before you laughed and reassured him it was fine.

“I was just starting to study Russian when I’d landed on what would be my longest job at the time. And Russian is really hard to learn, let me tell you. 33 letters in their alphabet, I was working more so had less time to study, anyways I was just reading a lot, always had my nose in a book.” You explained to the men, a familiar story you’d recounted countless times now. “Eventually that got me the nickname bookworm, which over time got shortened to, what it is now… worm.”

“Ach, nowhere near as fun as I’d been hopin’.” The Scot huffs out as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thought maybe you’da been forced to eat a worm at some point or-”

“Sergeant MacTavish!”

That first meeting had been a few weeks ago now, and you were pleasantly surprised at how well things were going. Well, almost everything. Because as kind as Price was, and as friendly as Soap was, and as inviting as Gaz was, those men only made up 3/4 of the task force. There was one other member of the 141, and the issue wasn’t that he’d been missing from that initial briefing, it was that he hadn’t said one goddamn word to you.

The entire time, the massive, intimidating, beast of a man sat in the corner of the room, eyes hidden by the shadows that the skull plated mask he wore cast over where his eyes should be, almost giving off the impression as if the figure behind were not alive. Price had introduced him as simply, Ghost, the Lieutenant. And that’s exactly what he was, a ghost hovering in the space, listening in on the stories that those alive and well were sharing around the table, never saying a word, never making a sound, never even moving.

It wasn’t until the briefing finally ended, Price explaining that he would show you towards the room that would now be yours for the indeterminate future, that you finally saw any sign of life from him, as he took no hesitation in standing to his feet and swiftly leaving the room, all without a word or look of acknowledgement in your direction.

“Don’t you be worryin’ yourself over him, wormie.” Soap had insisted one evening as he helped you spar in the gym. You were by no means a soldier, and were not expected to fight. However more and more often you work was requiring you to be on at the heart of the chaos, translating for your team on the spot in tense, increasingly dangerous situations. It was vital, no, necessary, to Price that they go over what sort of self defence you knew so that they could judge for themselves what was adequate and what needed improving before he deemed you fit to be defending yourself from more than your colleagues.

“It isn’t just you, he act this way with anyone new.” Gaz added as well from where he was stood on the edge of the mats, observing your progress (or the lack thereof rather). “Takes him time to warm up, ya see. He just doesn’t know ya yet.”

“He’s still warmin’ up to me, even now! If you’ll believe me, bonnie!” Soap had joked, wanting to squash your concerns.

The days dragged on however, and the Lieutenant’s behaviour became increasingly odd. He still would not speak to you, and so you never tried initiating contact, reading his message loud and clear. But there were times where you’d be holding multiple folders, if not boxes, of files and information on the way to a briefing, and you would run across none other than Ghost.

Rather than continuing to ignore your presence and continuing his way to the briefing room, he’d wordlessly pluck the items from your hands, carrying them in your place, pace quickening as if to leave you behind. Another time, you were practicing strapping on gear that you’d apparently be expected to wear at times depending on the climate and the situation, intent on heading straight to the gym afterwards to practice sparring, as per his idea to have you practice in actual equipment.

You knew Ghost was somewhere in the room as well, polishing some weapon or another, but you were focused on your task. That’s part of why you were so caught off guard when you stood up, thinking you’d finished gearing up correctly, and found your path to the door blocked suddenly by the Lieutenant’s immense frame taking up your line of sight.

You’d gasped in surprise at his unexpected closeness, finding your mouth gone dry when his large gloved hands reached out to your front, adjusting the straps of your tactical vest without a word. As quickly as he had appeared before you, he’d completed his task and disappeared, leaving you spinning from the interaction.

The next time, you were in the mess hall, standing awkwardly as you tried to leave a conversation but didn’t know how to do so politely. The young Sergeant had suddenly introduced himself to you as you were walking out, and the man had yet to take a single breath to allow you to speak and excuse yourself. Something apparently caught in his throat however, when he quickly clammed up, eyes going wide, gaze trained over your shoulder, before he suddenly had to be somewhere and dashed out of sight.

When you’d turned around, you’d barely caught enough of a glimpse, but you were certain it was Ghost you saw turning the corner, confusing you even further. You couldn’t make any sense of his behaviour, unsure of what to make of the situation. Things came to a head however, when Price decided it was time for the Lieutenant to begin handling your training.

Ghost casts a quick glance around the gym as he walks in, finding that he’s the first to arrive this morning, something he’s thankful for. He’s still not sure how he’s going to go about this. When Price had approached him, saying that he believed the sergeants were going too easy on you in your training and that he wanted him to take over, he knew he was not in any position to refuse.

After all, how was he meant to explain to his captain that he’d rather not be left alone with you. Not when he’d been trying to avoid you at every cost, realizing that out of the dark and the rain, wearing his usual Ghost mask that had been absent from his face the night he met you on his motorcycle, you hadn’t recognized him. And why would you? The only identifying feature you might remember from that night, was his voice, and he’d been making every effort to avoid speaking you thus far.

At first, he wasn’t sure why he was going to such lengths to avoid you, a complete 180 to the way he’d gone out of his way to help you previously. Deep down though, he knew why.

You’d called him a good man.

He’d gone back to base and touched himself, relieved himself, came all over his first like a damn teenager, all to the thought of you, the thought of your sweet voice calling him just that, a good man.

But you had only called him that because you didn’t know him, not really. Your idea of that hero riding in on a steel steed, saving you when you needed it, was not something he wanted to taint, to ruin, with the revelation that that man was actually him, the farthest thing from good there could ever be.

Realistically, he knew he couldn’t avoid you forever, not when you’d apparently be working together. God, what a shock that had been to see you stepping into the briefing room. His intention wasn’t to ignore you completely, at least not indefinitely. He only wanted to buy himself some time, give himself a chance to think of what he might say should you somehow recognize him. But then every time you were in his line of sight, the only thing he could think of was his exit strategy, how to get as far from you as possible.

And yet, even as the days turned into weeks, Simon’s avoidance of you couldn’t hide the growing affection that beginning to take form in the recesses of his heart. Any time he was within hearing range, his ears were tuned in to every word that left your mouth. When your back was turned to him, his eyes were following your every move. Even his own body was beginning to fight against his mind at times, taking initiative before he could realize that he was adjusting the straps to your tactical vest, the thought of you being in a high risk situation without being properly secured leaving a foul taste in his mouth, finding his hands relieving you of the load of whatever paperwork you were bringing to the briefing that day.

Or worse, he finds himself intimidating any man whose eyes land on your figure for a fraction of a second too long for his liking, or who has the balls to actually speak to you. Acting as though he had any right to act as your protector, to involve himself in your life like this without having ever even had the courtesy to speak to you. He really was going about this all wrong, wasn’t he?

Any further self destructive ideas Ghost might had come up with are instead cut short when he hears the hinges of the gym door squeaking open once more. His head swivels in the direction of the noise, eyes landing on none other than you. He’s seen you in your sparring sessions with the sergeants, seen you walk in full of energy, enthusiastic about proving your abilities and learning how to improve them. This morning however, you appear almost timid, trying to make yourself appear smaller as the loud thud of the door slamming shut behind you resonates out, only further emphasizing how alone you and Ghost are now.

He knows he has to be the one making you feel this way, and you aren’t without good reason. Clearing his throat, Ghost acknowledges he’s stalled as long as he can, if you’re going to recognize him, it’s just going to happen.

“Alright?” His deep, gravelly voice rings out in the space. You nearly jump in surprise but manage to school your expression. You wonder if his voice always sounds so rough, or if its a by product of the early morning hour. Whereas Soap and Gaz, ever the gentleman, had asked you what time you’d prefer to train, leading to late night sparring sessions, Price had informed you that Ghost would be meeting you in the gym before the sun had even come up. Damn military men and their early wake up times.

“I’m alright, yeah. How uh- how are you? Sir.” You reply, slowly stepping towards the training mats where Ghost is stood, muscular arms crossed over his huge chest. You tack on the ‘sir’ at the end, not wanting to get on his bad side before you even have a chance to begin training.

“Ghost will do.” He corrects you, ignoring your question otherwise. Ghost finds himself feeling antsy, almost out of his element, he doesn’t like that you’re messing with his head so much already. He’d rather get this over with. The less chit chat (and the less odds of you recognizing him by his voice), the better. “You ready?”

“Yes, I stretched before coming so, should be ready.” You answer him, finally stepping near enough that you’re within reaching distance of one another. Fuck, he’s suddenly extremely thankful you chose to do that before coming here, he’s not sure how he would’ve managed watching you bend over every which way to stretch.

“Right. Let’s see what the sergeants have taught you then.”

All in all, you’re actually not as bad as he might have expected, for someone who wasn’t a soldier. Obviously, he was going easier on you than he would’ve if it were Garrick or MacTavish he were sparring with, but he wasn’t completely letting you win either. You were fast on your feet, slippery in his grasps (maybe that’s why they should’ve named you worm), quick to think and to dodge his movements. He finds himself actually surprisingly quite pleased with you.

What he isn’t enjoying as much, or rather is probably enjoying too much and that’s the issue, are the fucking noises you keep making. Your small grunts of exertion, your puffs of breath drenched in effort, the groans you let out every time he lands a soft blow on you, not nearly as hard as he’d hit an enemy, but with enough force you knock the wind out of you each time. He’s also noticing the way the sweat drips down your neck, across your collarbone, sneaking into the heaving valley between your breasts.

There’s stirring happening in Ghost’s sweatpants and suddenly he needs this session to be over with sooner rather than later. He’s about to call it good enough for today when you open your pretty little mouth and say:

“Why are going easy me?” You’re panting, cheeks reddened with the blood pumping through you and his continues to gather somewhere it really shouldn’t be right now.

“What?” He grunts out, turning his back to you. He reaches a hand behind his neck with a towel, wiping at whatever sweaty skin his balaclava exposes.

“Look I’m not trying to pick a fight with you-” He’s cursing himself silently already at your words. “But not even Garrick or MacTavish treat me like I’m that weak. And they don’t have any issues with me being here.”

“Don’t have any issues with you.” He attempts to reply coolly, still not facing you, though he’s finding himself standing up straighter.

“With all due respect, that’s pure shit.” You retort. At this, he swings around to look at you, eyes narrowing. So she’s got some bite to her. “You’ve had an issue since I arrived, and that’s fine. I don’t need you to like me. But if you’re the one who’s apparently going to be training me now, I’d appreciate if you didn’t treat me like a kid. I’m here to do my job, and do it right. Can I expect the same from you, Lieutenant?”

If you were anyone else, he’d have you running laps around the entire base by now for talking back to him like this. Except you’re not anyone else, you’re you. And now you’re stepping closer to his space, this small thing daring to get into his face over him not training you hard enough? If harder is what you want, then harder is what you’ll get, little worm.

“You want me to go harder on you, s’that it?” He questions, taking the final step forward until your chests are now touching, and you’re having to crane your neck back to maintain eye contact. He’s close enough he sees you swallow at his question, but you don’t dare back down. Good girl. “Treat you like a big girl, s’that right?”

Suddenly struggling to find your voice, you manage what you hope is a confident nod. He’s never been so close to you before, and you’re noticing that the scent of him, even covered in sweat and likely morning breath behind his balaclava, is dizzying. Nearly intoxicating. He smells like a pure man, and you’re internally berating yourself to stay focused.

“Careful what ya wish for.” He says, barely allowing a second to pass before he’s suddenly throwing you onto the mat, flipping you onto your back, both of your hands pinned above your head in one of his large palms, his large, heavy body holding you in place underneath him, all in the blink of an eye. “What now, little worm? How are ya wrigglin’ your way out this?” He presses his mask covered mouth next to your ear, feeling a shiver go through your body at his words.

He’s careful to keep his now raging erection away from you, leaning his hips back but still pressing enough weight on you to keep you from budging. To your credit, you do try to get out from underneath him, but it’s a losing battle from the start, you’re no match for his size, especially with both hands above your head like this. Your cheeks are reddening in a mix of effort and embarrassment, and Ghost finds himself enjoying this view far too much.

“See, I was actually bein’ quite nice to ya,” He adds, barely tightening his grip on your hands, as if to remind you that he’s not even using his full strength with you. “But out there, wormie. They’re not gon’ be so kind-”

Whatever Ghost was going to say is cut off by a genuine, ragged gasp erupting from behind his mask. In your effort to free yourself, you’ve lifted your hips, unknowingly rubbing yourself against the bulge straining in the front of his sweatpants. Shocked by his reaction, you stay frozen in place, still pressed against what you can now tell is his throbbing member. And from what you can fell, it’s huge.

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his reaction to you. You weren’t exactly expecting… this. But his delicious, masculine odor is filling your nostrils, it feels as if every inch of you is pinned down by every inch of him, you can feel every twitch of his muscles and can practically count the steady beating of his heart through his cock pressing intro your thigh. And though you’ve always prided yourself on thinking first, acting second, you can’t exactly explain why you find yourself slowly beginning to rock your hips forward.

“This is you bein’ nice, Lieutenant?” You attempt to ask coyly, though you can’t hide the breathy way your voice comes across. Before you can pull your hips back anymore however, Ghost is suddenly releasing you from his grasp, standing to full height and dashing out of the room before you have a chance to even sit up.

Well, that went well.

The birds have only just begun to chirp when there’s a loud banging at your door early the next morning. You’re confused, prepared to tell whoever is on the other side of the door that it had better be a matter of life or death, when you come face to face with none other than a Ghost.

“What are-”

“If training starts at 0500, then you are to be in the gym at 0500. Understood?” His gravelly voice demands. A quick glance to your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past 5 in the morning. You had been certain after yesterdays debacle that Ghost would never want to train with you again, assuming that he’d speak with Price about handing you back over to the sergeants somehow.

So why does the sight of this gigantic masked man standing in your doorway, so large he blocks most of the light coming in from the hall, someone who’s done nothing but piss you off so far, arriving in absolute insistence that you continue sparring together, have your thighs suddenly clenching together?

“I thought that-” You cut yourself off as you watch him tilt his head, almost as if daring you to finish that sentence. “Yes sir.”

“Get changed. You’ve got 60 seconds.” He informs you before reach to shut your door for you.

That’s how you find yourselves alone in the gym a short time later, training resuming. To his credit, Ghost does not go as easy on you this time as he did yesterday, genuinely challenging your abilities in self-defence and close quarters combat, teaching you moves that Soap and Gaz had apparently not considered necessary.

“If you’re ever in a situation where it’s your life on the line,” he had said between clenched teeth as he taught you to dodge his blows more effectively, as if the thought of you in actual danger enraged him enough to chip a tooth. “I want you doing anything necessary, to get out o’ there. Understood? You make it out.”

By the end of the session, Ghost himself is panting with exertion, the both of you having put in more energy than you would have, were you sparring with anyone else. You watch him, hands on his hips as he catches his breath, head tilted slightly to the ceiling, and you decide it’s as a good opportunity as any to try and catch him off guard, feeling confident in yourself.

Foolishly confident.

Before you even manage to land a finger on him, he’s flipping you into the very same position as you found yourselves in yesterday, you on your back with him above you, one of his hands pinning the both of yours above your head as his other is planted by your waist, warm breaths meeting in the middle.

“That, I never want to see you do again.”

“Was worth a try.”

“Was it?”

You slowly raise your hips, unsurprised when you make contact with his steel hard cock above you, teasingly rubbing yourself against his length.

“Maybe.” You whisper, eyes searching his glazed over expression. You find his pupils have darkened to the point they eclipse almost all colour, specks of black eye paint smudged around his eyes have caught onto his eyelashes. He’s so close to you, you’re able to make them out as blond. Something about being near enough to the mysterious, alluring Ghost to know that he’s blond under that mask causes the blush on your cheeks to darken further.

As caught up as you are in the obvious want you find behind his eyes, there’s something about them that almost, somehow seem familiar. As if you’ve looked into these eyes before, in a different place, a different context, a different time.

Any rational thoughts are cut off however, when you both hear and feel Ghost growl, the hand that was planted at your side now coming to sneak between your back and the floor, pulling your front somehow even closer to his muscular chest. There isn’t an inch of space between the two of you now, your heads falling beside each other, temple to temple, as his grip on the situation finally slips, his resolves breaks, and he begins to grind against you.

You let out a gasp, the feeling of his pulsing member rubbing against your centre, even with all the layers of clothing, is sinfully delicious. You suspect he’s feeling the same way, because his grip on your waist tightens, hips bucking already with more insistence. His grunts are music to your ears, as are the small moans and whimpers you let out into his neck. You’ve wrapped one leg behind him, widening your hips as far as they’ll allow, granting him as much access to your core as his large frame needs. Having released your hands to allow himself to explore the soft squeeze of your breasts through your workout shirt, your fingers in turn are roaming up and down his back, across his shoulders, fingers nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost knows he’s not going to last long. When he’d gone to get you this morning for your sparring session, he was determined not to let yesterday’s events get in the way of his professionalism. You were right, after all. You both had a job to do, and he would ensure you could do it right. He would sleep better at night anyways, knowing you were properly trained in how to defend yourself. Trained by him, and his hands. He hadn’t intended for the session to end the way yesterday’s had, with you laying beneath his raging erection on the sweaty training mats, though he wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t hoped for it in some small part.

He knows he’s not going to last long because he’s finally, somehow, got you here underneath him, and your small sounds of pleasure are better than anything his twisted imagination could have ever conjured up. He shouldn’t take it any farther than this. This is already going too far, humping you into the ground of the gym fully clothed like a pair of teenagers who can’t keep their hands to themselves. But that’s exactly what you make him feel like though, isn’t it?

No, he won’t go farther than this, won’t allow himself to take more than this. This alone is more than he feels he deserves. God, how he wishes he could give you what you deserve though. Releasing your breasts from his continued groping, he snakes his hands down your stomach, meeting the hem of your pants, allowing his digits to slip beneath the band of your underwear, fingers instantly finding your pulsating clit between your soaked folds. Your moans only grow louder as he begins to quickly bring you closer to your peak, one of your hands coming to cover your mouth should anyone happen to be walking by.

It feels as if the two of you are caught in a raging storm, two inevitable waves colliding with one another in a fury likened only to mother nature’s doing. You’re both reaching your peaks together, tumbling over the edge into pure, mind numbing bliss, as you continue to hold onto one another, as though you’re life preservers in the sea, seeing each other through to the end of the end of the fall.

Ghost can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the fact that he’s cum in his pants. Not when he’s searing your blissed out expression into his mind forever. You’re both panting now, coming back to your senses, remembering your surroundings, as well as the fact that with the time that’s passed, it’s becoming increasingly likely for anyone to walk in.

Taking one last look at you, squeezing your side with what might just be affection, Ghost begrudgingly rolls himself off of you, coming to stand, readjusting the front of his now wet sweatpants. He turns himself around, extending a hand out to you, which you accept, allowing him to pull you up.

Only you don’t let go of his hand right away. Instead, you tighten your grip on his palm, pull him closer to you, narrowing your eyes at him, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“So,” you say, licking your lips. “Same time tomorrow?”

Longest chapter ever and first time writing sort of smut! Feel like I’m earning my place on tumblr lol

Reader gets a call sign and a bit of a back story! Hope it wasn’t too long or boring to read, it’s literally only because I really wanted to justify naming reader as ‘worm’ because there is absolutely definitely without a question eventually going to be a chapter where worm is drunk and crying about how the boys are saying they wouldn’t love her if she turned into a worm thank you that is all

- M 🫶🏻

[evieolo]

Hey you should do an angst one where Matt and Y/n get into a fight while in the car and then y/n gets mad and then gets out of the car at a stop light and walkd home in the rain like crying and all that fun jazz, sorry if that's a little confusing.

Rain — Matt Sturniolo x Reader

A/N: @sturniolo-fav-matt you’re the best for putting up with the insane amount of time it took me to write this 💋 | It’s hard to write arguments where the characters don’t both bitch about it, so Matt and Y/N are both in the wrong here (more so Matt though)

Contains: Arguments/Big disagreement/hurt comfort (I think idk if this is sad in the slightest)

Date night hadn’t started well. Quite the opposite. Matt made a dinner reservation for nine. The dinner was supposed to be after he, Chris, and Nick filmed their latest car video, but filming ran late after the camera malfunctioned. So Matt shows up to your date forty minutes late to find you sitting on a park bench outside of the restaurant, arms crossed over your chest.

A light drizzle fell from the sky, dampening your hair and satin dress. Matt hurriedly shuffles over to the bench where you’re seated and frowns when he sees that you’re definitely not happy with him.

“Look who decided to show up,” you quip with a not-so-happy expression on your face.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says, sympathy laced in his expression. You nod, accepting his candor, and wrap your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss on his lips before speaking. “We lost our dinner reservation,” you say and purse your lips slightly.

Matt nods with a sigh, “Why didn’t you just wait at the table?”

You laugh dryly. “Alone - looking like I got stood up for forty minutes? No thanks.”

Matt smiles accordingly - he loves your witty remarks. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, kissing your forehead. You giggle lightly as his hands rub your hips, feeling butterflies arise in your stomach because you know he hates P.D.A., but he’s touchy like there’s nothing more important than you.

“You’re forgiven,” you say, giving him one more long peck on the lips before pulling back.

You stand silently for a moment before Matt speaks, “I heard a nice ice cream shop opened up a block from here. Want to go?” he questions, looking forward to your response.

You raise a brow, “Ice cream before dinner? You know me so well.”

The second you and Matt enter the shop, a gasp is elicited from the other side of the room, followed by a couple of gaping stares from what looks to be a group of fifteen-year-olds, and an, “Oh my god, is that Matt Sturniolo?”

Matt doesn’t notice this as quickly as you do and makes his way to the front desk, ordering for both you and himself before he’s bombarded with requests for photos. You stand back as he obliges, taking selfie after selfie with awestruck girls. You can’t say it happens a lot, but there have been a definite one or two times, meaning you had a “routine” for the situation; that being, awkwardly waiting in whatever corner of the room you were in for the fangirls to clear.

The clerk holds two cups of ice cream in hand and scoots them over the counter. You recognize them as the flavors Matt ordered and go to pick them up, though, not avoiding the “Matt” that falls from the clerk's tongue, signaling that the orders are ready. You thank the man, grabbing two spoons before taking the two cups of ice cream.

“Um, Mr. Sturniolo,” a girl coughs out, awkwardly tapping Matt's shoulder. Matt lets out an acknowledging hum, and the girl points to you. “That girl took your ice cream,” she says.

Matt laughs, pointing a smile at you. “That’s Nick's friend,” he says with nonchalance, “She’s just grabbing it for me.”

Your stomach drops. You knew he was just saying it because your relationship was off the media, but Nick's friend? He couldn’t have gone as far as to say you were his friend?

Matt finishes taking photos and walks towards the door where you are standing. You pivot to walk out the second he’s next to you, handing him his cup of ice cream and opening the door without a word. Matt doesn’t pick up on your mood change. “It’s so cool to run into fans,” he smiles, “It’s still weird to me, and did you hear how she called me Mr. Sturniolo? That was hilarious,” Matt gushes, spooning a generous amount of ice cream into his mouth.

You nod, giving him a dry, “Yeah,” before stepping past the shop’s awning, momentarily forgetting it was raining. You're snapped back to reality when a large raindrop falls directly on your forehead, dripping down your nose.

“Is your car close?” You ask. Matt nods.

༯ ༯ ༯

“Will you ever want to go public?” You ask once you're situated in the car, strapping your seatbelt over your torso as you speak.

Matt pauses for a second before he speaks, giving you time to get used to the pattering of rain on the windshield. “Maybe,” he mutters, with no clarity in his answer whatsoever.

“I just think we should revisit the conversation, Matt. I don’t want to always have to act like one of your ‘bros,’” you press, looking at him intently. Your harsh expression doesn’t waver when he speaks.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Y/N.”

Your heart aches, but you continue. “You never want to talk about this, Matt.”

Matt grips the steering wheel harder, and his knuckles turn white where the most pressure is applied. “You're getting on my nerves," he spits, looking not at you, but at the road.

“Matt…”

“Stop,” he grits his teeth, “just shut up! I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

Your jaw tightens with anger. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it, Matthew. You’re acting like a child. You have six - six million followers! And I have to act like I'm some celebrity hiding from the paparazzi because you can’t deal with the fact that you have a girlfriend who wants to be seen with you?”

This is a blow to Matt’s confidence, and he takes it as an insult to both his career and him. “You’re unreasonable,” Matt mutters, taking a harsh breath.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the only unreasonable one here, Matthew,” you spit, throwing your hands down against your thighs in frustration.

Matt doesn't respond to this. The only sounds in the car are the acceleration of the engine and the occasional clicking of the blinkers.

You sit in silence for minutes before your anxiousness has you spitting out a question. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

Matt shakes his head ‘No,’ but he’s still angry. “It’s not a big deal if we’re public if we’re both happy in this relationship,” he says with a sternness in his voice that says don’t push it.

“But-“

“But? Are you not happy?” Matt raises a brow with a question.

“Obviously I'm not happy, Matt! I’m not your fuck buddy; I’m your girlfriend. I shouldn’t have to act like I’m in the shadows all the time. I don’t want to be in your videos or anything! I just want you to acknowledge me as your girlfriend!” you claim lightly, your voice emotionally raising in pitch because everything you say, Matt ignores.

Matt ignores this too, further frustrating you. You know he’s paying attention to your words too, because of the way his face changes and the way his grip on the steering wheel is constantly tight.

He doesn’t respond, just lets out a deep sigh.

You feel a wave of emotions crashing over you, hitting you like a bus, and a fat tear rolls down your cheek in silence.

Matt notices this.

“Y/N…” he moves his hand from the steering wheel to your thigh, rubbing up and down soothingly while keeping his other hand occupied with steering.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me now,” you say, voice wobbling with emotion.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

”Can we go public?”

“Y/N,”

You cut him off, “Then you're not sorry.”

“That’s not fair.”

The argument is futile. Both of you know this, so you don’t continue because the streetlights start blurring in your eyes and the stereo becomes too much, making your chest tight with emotion.

You don’t want to be in the car anymore. The car with him.

“Matt let me out,” you say, feeling the car come to a halt at a stoplight. “What are you on about?” Matt questions, gritting his teeth, leaning back momentarily against the car’s seat.

“I don’t want to be in here with you anymore,” your voice wavers.

“It’s raining, Y/N.”

“Let me out.”

Matt begrudgingly complies, clicking the locked door open. You snap your seatbelt off and step out of the car, immediately feeling the wetness of rain droplets against your head. You walk out of the road, heels clanking on the pavement as you do so.

When the stoplight turns green, you watch Matt drive away. It’s not his fault, you try to tell yourself. You insisted on getting out. But still, your emotions overtake your mind, and inevitable tears slip from your eyes.

You wish you and Matt didn’t argue. No. You wish you had his jacket, but also that you didn’t fight. So instead of standing still, you start your trek to your apartment. A twenty-minute walk in your not-so-impervious satin dress.

༯ ༯ ༯

When you get home, the sadness hits you. Was the argument worth it? What if he’s so mad he breaks up with you?

Your negative thoughts only have you crying harder, so you trek to your room, strip off your rain-ridden clothes, and take a warm shower, washing the salt of rain off your body as you tremble with sobs.

You shower for far too long, running your hands through your wet hair as a silky comfort and washing the repentance of the day off your physical form. Not your mental form.

When you step out of the shower, the tile is cold. You throw on a robe and make a beeline for your dresser where you left your phone, needing to talk to Matt.

To Matt Sturniolo: I’m sorry for getting mad

To Matt Sturniolo: I miss you

To Matt Sturniolo: I’m sorry I’m not mad anymore

You take a second, typing anxiously as you wait for his read receipt to show up. When it does, he texts back instantaneously.

From Matt Sturniolo: Are you okay? I’m coming over.

Matt’s at yours in minutes, shortening the drive after making half a dozen illegal turns.

You’re waiting at the door when he knocks, opening the front before his fist can meet the door a second time. When the door creaks open, you're met with a wet, worried Matt. His hair is damp, clinging to his forehead after only the walk from the parking lot to your door. His eyes scan your body as you awkwardly stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice sad. Matt takes note of this and steps closer to you, closing your apartment door behind you and pulling you into his chest.

He runs a thumb over your cheek, wiping off the remnants of stray tears, and sighs, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

“It's not your fault, baby. I was being a dick,” Matt says apologetically. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist, embracing yourself in the hug and sniffling against him.

“I am happy in our relationship. I lied,” you mutter.

“I know, but you could be happier,” Matt hums, pulling away from the hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling his phone out. He swipes for a bit before turning it to you.

“You like this picture?” he asks. It's a picture of both of your eyes that you’d taken in a moment of pure happiness, right after you’d complimented how his irises looked in the sun. You nod, unsure of what he’s doing but smile out a ‘yeah.’

He’s on his phone for another two minutes before he clicks it off. “Check my Instagram,” he says. You pull your phone out of your back pocket and open the app, viewing Matt's most recent post.

From Matt Sturniolo:

[beah388love]

Too quiet…?

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Daddy!Thor x Little!Reader

Summary: someone says you’re too quiet for Thor and too different to be together

Warnings: crying,insults,mean comments,age regression!!!(please tell me if I missed any!!!)

You was picking flowers with one of the servants.

“God you’re so quiet..” she huffed as they sat on the floor picking the grass.

“Do you talk at all?” She scoffed

“I talk..” you mumbled but he didn’t hear you.

“Why’s the son of Odin even with you? He’s an extrovert, like a golden retriever” she sighed annoyingly, you could feel tears brimming your eyes.

“I’d be a better girlfriend to him than you.” She muttered but you heard.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Stay here!” She spat at you and you nodded. As she walked away she stood on your flower pile, crushing them.

As soon as she left you cried. Your flowers all ruined.

Maybe she was right? Why was he with you?

You were the complete opposite of him?

You ran back into the palace, you rushed past the guards and servants as you covered your face.

And you ran straight to the place you always went to.

The greenhouse. Your favourite place, it was quiet,empty and had your favourite things…

Flowers.

You sat in the corner of the room, holding your legs up to your chest, resting your chin in your knees as you tried to stop your tears.

Your thoughts were racing so quickly you didn’t even hear Thor walk into the room.

“Little one?” He said softly but it still made you flinch.

“Buttercup? Why are the tears?” He asked you worriedly as he knelt down in front of you and you sobbed harder.

“Buttercup?” Thor repeated giving you a soft kiss on the temple. Hoping your favourite nickname would calm you.

Your favourite flower.

“W-why are you with me?” You asked wiping your tears and he physically jumped a little.

“Why are you asking me this?” He asked you confused and you pouted.

“S-she was sayin- we was too different t-to like eachother- and she’d be a better girlfriend for you-“ you stuttered out through cries and he pulled you into a tight hug, embracing you in his warmth, all you could smell and feel was him.

“That is entirely and completely untrue! We are so alike, we both like popcorn and the rain! And..Miss bunny!” Thor said making you smile at the mention of your stuffie,

“And we like colouring! And ice cream!” You beamed making him nod with a chuckle.

“Who is this woman anyway?” He asked you and you huffed.

“Buttercup?” He asked again and you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“M’ not sure she’s new…” you said and he nodded as he rubbed your back up and down softly.

“Did she do anything else?” Thor asked as he tried to hide his anger.

“She stepped on my flowers…” you said sadly when you remembered.

“What?” He said through gritted teeth and he was even more mad as he looked at your puffy face and wet eyelashes, he stood up with you in his arms.

“Daddy-“

“Shh..it’s okay just rest” he said stroking your hair as you rested your head back down in the crack of his neck.

“I want all servants lined up here now!” Thor shouted covering your ears but you still jumped a little.

Everyone flinched and lined up panicked

“Buttercup? Tell me if you see her?” Thor whispered to you and you nodded, hesitantly removing your face from thors neck as he walked down the line of terrified servants.

And you looked down when you saw her, catching thors attention.

“Is this her?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Is it true you said that were to different? To be together?” He asked and she looked down nodding her head reluctantly.

“Is it true you said you’d be a better girlfriend for me than Her?” He asked and she nodded her head as she sniffled.

“Y-yes s-sir”

“Well you are wrong, you could never be a better girlfriend than her, she’s the best anyone could ever have” he said giving you a kiss on the hand.

“And is it true…you stepped on her flowers?” He asked and she nodded sobbing.

“Y-yes..”

“Guards take her away!” Thor shouted and she sobbed as they dragged her away.

Thor put you back on the floor and held your hand, bending down a bit from the height difference.

“C’mon buttercup, let’s make another flower bouquet” he said making you squeal, and he couldn’t hold back a smile.

You went back to the flower garden and made a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers.

“Look! A buttercup!” You beamed catching thors attention.

He picked it and held it under your chin, the yellow tint glowing under your chin “you like butter” he said you gasped “I do!” You agreed making him laugh.

“Your so cute little one” he smiled as he pulled you on top of him, laying on the grass together.

You forgot all about what she said, because you both were indeed made for each other.

[desideriumwriter]

could you do a like a gryfinndor luna lovegood type of reader with george?? like really ditzy or even reader being lunas older sister but she’s and being all silly weird girl like her?? <33

suchhhh a cutecutecute idea, ugh i love it. george and a "weird" ditzy girl is so perfect. ty for the request! apologizes for any mistakes, it's late and im too tired to proofread but too eager to wait and pf in the morning

wc: 1153

navi | g.w. masterlist

Occasionally George liked to practice on the Quidditch field by himself. Usually Sundays since everyone else was too tired to go out.

The field was especially empty today due to the rain; it was pouring down hard but George decided to take this as an opportunity to get used to games in the rain. He was still a bit mad over losing to Hufflepuff when Harry fainted in the rain last year.

George watched as the bludger's attention turned from him to what looked like another student walking around the field. He was confused as to why you were walking around in the pouring rain. 

His eyes widened in terror as he watched the ball go hurling towards you, panicking and flying down towards it.

He casted a stunning spell to keep the bludger from moving any more as he flew down.

He got up off his broom immediately once he got his feet on the grass, leaving it behind as he ran over to you, who was still looking at the bludger.

“I hope you didn’t do that because you thought I was an opponent.” Your eyes looked from the ball to George, seeming completely unbothered.

“No! No! I didn’t mean to do that at all! It was an accident! I swear I didn’t even realize you were there.”

“Most people don’t.” There was no sadness in your tone, you were just stating a fact. You were an awfully quiet walker. 

Though, George knew who you were, knew of you. And your “weird girl” reputation.

“Oh, um, well what are you doing in the middle of the pitch anyways?” He cleared his throat.

“Looking for my slippers.” George gave you a small, confused nod. 

“You think your slippers would be in the Quidditch pitch?” He let out an amused chuckle as he slid his goggles off his eyes, letting them sit on his forehead.

“Possibly, I have a problem with sleepwalking.”

“So, you came out here while it’s pouring?” 

“I’d rather not wait, I don’t mind the rain.” He watched as your stare tightened as you looked him up and down, “Your uniform is soaked.”

“So are your robes.” He gestured and you looked down at your school uniform. Your hood was up but no longer doing any help to keep from the rain. You were soaked head to toe, your hair sticking to your face.

You didn’t say anything as you grabbed George’s hand, your hold on his hand was light but you were able to pull him with you to the stand underneath the awnings.

“There, now we’re both clear from the rain.” You gave him such a kind smile, the kind that made him want to melt into the grass. Your hand was still wrapped around his in a loose grip.

Bringing his hand up closer and tracing your finger over his palm, he watched with knit brows as you stared again. 

“You have quite a lot of calluses.” You spoke blankly, turning his hand in yours.

“Thanks.” The way he said it made it sound more like a question rather than a response. 

“I have a moisturizer that could help. I’m surprised you haven’t thought of something like that with you and your brother's products.” You placed his hand nicely down at his side, treating it as if he couldn’t do it by himself. He found it cute.

“You know me?- You know about our shop?” He pointed to his chest, not sure how to figure out how’d you react. Most people were predictable when it came to the twins or their products. But you were terrifyingly hard to read with how nonchalant you were. 

“I once watched a kid eat one of those sweets you sell and his nose started bleeding a minute later in Flitwick's class.” You shrugged. George really wanted to repeat his first question since he’s never seen you before. Maybe once in the common room. But not on occasion.

“Good to know they’re working.” He hummed. Cold wind moved through the air, making the ends of your robe flutter. “I think you should go back to the castle, it’s only gonna get worse from here on. Do you need me to walk you back?” You nodded appreciatively before turning and already going on the move. 

You were walking surprisingly quick to the point George had to jog a small bit to catch up with you.

“You, uh, you never told me your name?” He said as he caught up, his face lit up once he heard you say your last name.

A Lovegood. Makes sense. George thought to himself.

“I’m surprised you haven’t pulled a prank on me yet.” You looked down at his shoes, watching as your feet moved in sync with each other.

“I’m not sure I know you well enough to do that yet. It’d be rude if I did.” He gave you an amused laugh. You gave him a small hum and you both continued to walk, no longer speaking.

Even though George had just met you after watching you nearly get taken out by a bludger and you having a very peculiar personality, the silence was comfortable. He didn’t feel super awkward, you were nice, you had a warming presence to him. You were pretty too.

A small gasp leaving your lips made his eyes immediately shoot in your direction, you stopped for a second before running over to a boulder, your slippers sitting neatly together in front of it.

“I knew they would show up eventually!” You cheered, this is the loudest George has heard you, yet your voice was barely near the height of a shout.

You grinned as you picked them up then grimaced at their dirtiness, George couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hm. They’re quite gross now. I was hoping the rain would wash them off.” You frowned as you saw the mud caked underneath them. “I guess I’ll have to find a spell to fix them myself.” George couldn’t stop staring at you, you were so pretty, yet so strange. He loved it.

As you reached a roofed entrance to one of the corridors you stopped and turned to George.

“Thank you for walking me back, George. I’d like to be your friend.” You said as you rocked back and forth on your feet.

“Oh, I’d like to be your friend too.” He stammered out, there was no lie behind his words.

“Great. Well, I think I should go wash myself off. I feel gross.” You waved as you began to step backwards into the hallway.

“See you, strange girl.” He waved back before you fully turned the opposite direction, immediately feeling bad for calling you that, until he saw the way your grin grew bigger at the name. You nodded and turned away, skipping down the hallway.

George let out a small laugh to himself, he definitely would be seeing you again.

tell me what you thought! <3 feedback is always appreciated!

[saturnmosaic]

succulent berries nestled in the yard.

pairing : ellie williams x female reader

synopsis : ellie, your wife, gives your cat away, out of envy or circumstance, you can't tell. leaving behind the past, you and your wife move into a new home. but with a relationship on the brink of ravage, the house seems to harbor sinister forces. and with the insatiable hunger for berries you discovered in the yard, things crumble rather fast.

warnings : pussy eating, mentions of miscarriage, animal deaths, blood, cannibalistic yearning, figures/ creatures sorta?? haunted house.

wc : 1.8k

a/n : um yeah...it's kinda bad and not executed well but i wrote this during the week of my exams, can you blame me? also i got kinda lazy during sum bits sooo

betrayal lingers in the car, stirring amidst the crisp air of the AC. the tapping of the rain against the mist covered windows, like the rhythmic pumping of your ruptured heart, does no good to the gnawing feeling inside you. how could she have given away your blythe. the tiny creature always so nimble on her feet at the call of her name, so fond of seeking slumber on your lap.

you’d found her on a similar day like this— grey hues enveloping the sky, water droplets crashing the tender and moist earth with all their might, and the rumbling of thunder in the distance. amidst all that chaos, her meek meow had stood out. her black fur was sleek with the heavy rain, and her belly was smeared plum dark.

you’d taken her home on an impulse. time and medical care healed her. and she had healed you. a lovely year spent with her, reminiscent of a lilac bloom in the summer. but now she was gone, taken away from you by your own wife. your own wife! a blasphemy.

"are you still mad at me? we had no other choice." aventurine eyes dart away from the distorted road to get a glimpse of you. your eyes still bleary and bloodshot, hair ever so tousled, and the silk of your dress embracing your petal-like skin. a bittersweet sight.

"don't say we." not even a glance spared her way, the face you’d seek for in every room you entered, now a face foreign and surreal.

"oh come on, she was sick anyway. it was only a matter of days before she died!" her temper, planted in her like a tempting hydrangea, speaks before her rationale can articulate words, knuckles gripping the charcoal leather of the driving wheel.

"she was not sick."

she sighs, the guilt of her deed looming over her like a sickly, withered willow. “baby, we both know she was and i’m really sorry but we can’t do anything about it. we’re moving to a new town, a new house. bringing her with us would be..a burden. besides i’d rather you not witness her death, i don’t wanna see you suffer like that.”

“i’m already suffering, aren’t i?”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh? i’m just trying to do what’s right. a-and it’s like i’m always second to that cat!”

the confession, lays bare like an ornate scroll, and makes you ponder if envy was the cause of it. but was what she said entirely fallacious? maybe you had been giving blythe more attention that she’d felt frivolous in your eyes.

“just- i’m sorry, okay? but i promise jesse will take good care of her.”

silence ensues, and soon the quaint house surfaces into your eyesight. the rain and dusk obscured it's intricacy but from what you could make out, it was painted in warm whites and browns, with ivy weaving up the sides and windows curtained in white lace.

…

a house is a body, your mom used to tell you. a haven meant to be worshipped in return for solace and warmth. this house became your body. its walls were alive in the daylight, screeching and beckoning for something while ellie was at work. it fed on your sorrow and resentment like a famished beast, stripping them away to procure life. your heart was indented in these walls.

the house would foist bad omens on whoever visited. aunt daphne had a miscarriage, the frail thing of a baby was bled out on the black and white tiles of your bathroom. it stirred memories of your own miscarriage, and ellie thought that was the reason you leaned so heavily on blythe, loving her as though she were your own child. when uncle luke visited, his golden retriever was found dead in the yard, leaves sitting idly on its fur like an atonement.

ellie wasn't one to believe in curses or anything remotely superficial, but she'd felt something innately sinister residing in the hollow of the house. she wanted to move, but moving away meant leaving behind your body, so you stayed, which compelled her to stay rooted to the house too.

…

on a sunny morning, beads of sweat kissing your skin, damp hair heavy under the sun’s gaze, you’d been lead to the brambles in the yard by the house itself. the raspberries were glistening and plump with saccharine juice.

they might’ve been tainted with fox piss, so you gather them in a dainty basket and slip back into the confines of your home to wash them. the water from the tap cascades down onto the fruits in your hand, ridding them of the insect debris and other dirt.

a tatted arm snakes its way around your waist and a head heavy with sleep rests on your shoulder. it had almost slipped out of your mind that it was a weekend.

ellie's other arm reaches out to turn the tap off and put the dampened raspberries away from your hand. without warning, pearly whites bite down on your neck and her tongue flicks out to languidly soothe the bruised splotch.

a carnal desire courses through your veins. ever since you moved here, and ever since blythe was no longer in your gentle arms, words barely existed anymore. and sometimes silence felt like a human presence, mocking the insubstantial souls around it. without words, sex was your salvation.

she turns you around to hoist you up on the counter, shadows smudged under her eyes. she'd come back from work late last night, you figure.

her calloused hands are on your thighs, pushing them apart with a fervor. a similar fervor that'd paint itself on her whenever you showed her a hint of normalcy. your hands still in her tousled hair, as the velvety pads of her fingertips tug your underwear off.

her knees hit the marble tiles, warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen windows, as she lifts the fabric of your dress up, a gentle rustle against the morning ambience, revealing your slick folds.

her tongue teases your weeping cunt, one hand clutching the dress up and the other resting on your thigh. you whimper in desperation, pushing her head further.

“ellie..”

she pats your thigh in response, fucking you with her warm muscle, feeling your insides devour it with a hanker. noises flow out of your mouth as smoothly as the tranquil descent of a waterfall, as your fingers dig into her scalp.

a sultry moan muffles into your hole, and she pulls back, the taste of you lingering on her tongue.

“what the fuck? why’d you-” your whine is silenced by the solace of her lips. her tongue slides into your mouth and presses against your own, slick and insistent. your own taste dissolves into your mouth, mending with your saliva.

you bite the soft pillow of her lower lip, drawing crimson liquid and earning a throaty noise from her. somewhere between a moan and a grunt.

“babe..” she lowers her gaze in an attempt to catch sight of the fresh blood. before she can wipe it away with the pad of her thumb, you lick the red off her pillowy cushion of flesh.

the taste is seraphic as it sits on your taste buds, a pure bliss, like thyme on a wound. the sensation of her tongue back inside your clenching walls heightened this feeling, if not subdued it wholly. but the taste still lingered.

her fingers soothe your swollen clit, circling around it as if afraid it’ll be seized from her grasp someday.

she laps at every drop of juice that manifests, like she’d done to your tears, as a fatuous inside joke, a long while ago. so long, she can’t remember if it was a hazy dream.

“fuck. i’m so close.”

her mouth pulls away when you reach your pleasant climax, her fingers still on your clit, helping you through your high. your hands go limp in her hair, and she languidly wipes the glistening slick from her mouth and chin with the back of the hand that releases your bunched dress.

...

the berries stay forgotten until the next morning, when it’s delicacy is withered and rotten away under the exposure to air and temperature. you throw the shrivelled fruits away and pick several more.

the new ripe ones sit snug in a ceramic bowl, alluring and tender. you feast on ten, eleven, twelve, and then the count numbs in your brain. the fluid so grossly alike to ellie’s blood, makes you delirious. it’s utterly enthralling, the juice dripping down your chin, its sticky residue settling on your skin. your teeth and lips and hands stained in a crimson hue, a crimson hue reminiscent of ellie’s blood. ellie’s blood. they chant themselves on the tip of your tongue.

spindled figures, engraved on the floors, long limbs and pulsing eyes, they seem to close in on you. the bowl is emptied, raspberries already in the pit of your stomach. the yearning grows in agony, an animalistic desire surging through the ivory of your bones.

you feel light like you’re meandering through the air, though you can feel the faces of the figures underneath your feet, something metallic making its home in your hand.

you blink and you're standing in your bedroom, ellie coddling her apatosaurus plushie, as her eyes stay fluttered. a vulnerability so immensely coating the room. the knife glides down her supple skin, the smell of meat stirring your senses. was her heart the sweetest part of her body?

"what the fuck are you doing?" her raspy voice cuts through your trance and suddenly the object in your hand feels foreign. with a sharp yank to your arm, the metal clanks on the marble floor.

"what is wrong with you?" ellie's gripping your arms, her face contorted with disbelief, shock and wrath.

"n-nothing." but something is. you both know. tears gush through your eyes, the salty pearls melding with the sweet smear of berries on your skin.

"god, it's this fucking house! we should've moved. fuck!" her grasp on your arms are gone, her hands fumbling for her phone. frustration envelopes her like a smothering blanket as she talks to demolition contractors.

your pleas fall on deaf ear, your mere presence as measly as a lamb. you let yourself be escorted out of the house, eyes sodden, red flickering in them, as you watch- watch the house your body collapse to the ground.

the berries come retching out of your mouth, along with a hideous flow of blood. the walls crumble and the world around you dances like an uncanny painting. sirens wail in the distance and layers of black pierce through your eyes, shutting them for slumber.