#CAN WE HAVE HIP WINDOWS PLEASE

[redstrewn]

so about this

are you understanding

UNDERSTAND?????????????

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

[bi-writes]

can we have like a pov of like what MOB would do if something did happen to simon..? luv you!

mail-order bride

your tea is cold when you pick it up to drink it. it burns you, how cold it is, and you cough a little as you set it down, grimacing as you wipe your lips.

maybe it's just one of those days. the rain is hitting a little too hard against the window. the cats have been restless. the dark one shredded your yoga mat by clawing at it under a doorway, and the orange tabby managed to knock over all of simon's plants from the windowsill (which you frantically put back inside their little pots--would plant murder be his last straw?). you left a red shirt in when you washed the whites (you apologized to all of simon's white tees), and when you noticed holes in your favorite sweats in a pattern that matched a cat's claws, you called it a day and decided to make tea (another fail).

you rub your pounding head, taking a deep breath, but you aren't given long to count down from five when your phone begins to ring.

you pick it up, not recognizing the number, but you put it to your ear as you get up to boil more water.

"hello?"

a throat clears on the other end. "do i have mrs. riley 'ere?"

you frown, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter as you turn a burner on and put the kettle over it.

"uhm...yeah. this is she," you say finally. you look at the clock; it's late, much too late. "who is this?"

"this is john. ah...captain john price, ma'am."

you clench your jaw, closing your eyes. "um...i'm sorry, i...what can i do for you? simon's not--"

"we had to call for medevac," john says lowly. "ahh...should be headin' into surgery soon. i--"

"wait--what?" you cough a little, shutting the stove off, and you're scrambling as you make your way to the bedroom. he's talking again, you realize, but you can't hear what he's saying. your eyes are moving around the room, and you frantically start to pull drawers open, grabbing a sweater, jeans, actual clothes to put on. you shed your pajamas, hopping as you slide your jeans on, and he's still talking, but you still hear nothing.

you run into the dresser, the furniture rattling, and you let the phone go, realizing you can't see because there's tears blurring your vision. you wipe them away, looking around for your purse, and when you realize what this is, an emergency--right?--you head for the bookcase in simon's study.

you toss a few books down onto the floor, your hands shaking as your fingers curl around the spine of a leather bible. you set the book down on simon's desk, flipping through the pages before you find your prized paper nestled between the pages of the book of john.

you head back to the bedroom, picking up the phone again, and you shakily dial the number that's on the back of the card. you take a seat on the bed (because where would you go anyways?), and you close your eyes as you wait for someone to pick up.

it rings for too long. you gasp a little, clutching the phone tight, and you beg for someone to pick up, please, please, please--

"'ello?"

"johnny--" you hiccup, standing up. "johnny, he...he told me--"

"wha--who--" on the other end, johnny shouts at someone to get a move on, "--bleedin' christ, who is this?"

"it's me," you whisper. "i'm...simon's--"

"ach...fuckin' hell..." there's a long, deep sigh on the other end. "oi, lass, listen, he's alright--"

"he's...b-but someone said surgery."

"right, i..." he sighs again, and you hear a door shut on the other end. "ye sit tight, luv. i'll come get ye, okay?"

you sniffle, wiping your face, "just tell me he's gonna be okay. tell me i'm worrying for nothing."

johnny chuckles a bit, and the sound soothes you just enough. "gonna be alright. lad's fuckin' dramatic, i'll tell ye tha', big brick fuckin' stepped in front of--"

"okay, johnny, please don't tell me how simon almost killed himself and get your ass over here, okay?" you snap, and johnny halts his laughing.

"right, yeah, forgive me." you hear the rattle of keys. "'m coming."

"mrs. riley?"

your head lifts up. you blink the sleep out of your eyes, rubbing them gently, and there's a petite woman in scrubs smiling at you with her mask hanging around her neck. you have two sergeants at either side of you, captain price settled leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. you have a blanket around your shoulders, and when you slip it off, johnny takes it from you gently.

"you can see him now."

you get to your feet, and when you pass simon's captain, he tips his hat at you respectfully. you hurry and follow the doctor down the hall, and when you see simon's name scribbled on a makeshift sigh on the wall, you eagerly pick up the pace until the door is opened for you.

he looks peaceful laying there. the monitors beep quietly around him, little wires and tubes falling around him, and you let out a breath when you see him blink those dark eyes awake blearily.

"tha' an angel?"

you start to cry. "you're such an asshole."

you come close to the side of the bed, taking his outstretched hand, and you clutch his big hand to your chest. you curl his hand into a fist, pressing your face against the back of his hand, kissing his knuckles there gently. he uncurls his fingers and wipes at your tears gently, shaking his head.

"gave ya a right scare, didn't i?"

"yes, you dickhead," you sniffle, and simon chuckles lowly, wincing a little as he clutches his lower stomach. you use your foot to bring the chair behind you closer, taking a seat in it as you look up at him. he turns his head to face you, giving you a pained smile, and you let out the breath you've been holding since johnny came to get you. "what's the matter with you, simon?"

"shit happens."

you try not to roll your eyes, but the anger is not lost on simon. he squeezes your hand gently, his eyes flicking up to the clock, and he grimaces when he realizes it's nearly six in the morning. you must have been here all night, waiting for him.

"is this how it's gonna be?" you ask in a whisper. when he meets your eyes again, it's more difficult this time. what you're asking isn't predictable. it isn't a straight answer. and if he gives you anything that isn't the truth, it feels like a lie, and he can't do that to you. "w-waking up in the middle of the night? hoping that the call isn't...that...hoping that--"

"not that simple," simon interrupts gently.

"well, make it simple, simon," you say firmly. even through your tears, your voice doesn't shake this time. "make it very simple for me, then."

simon purses his lips, and for the first time since you've met your husband, he hesitates. he doesn't have an answer, at least a good one.

"don't wanna lie to ya, swee'eart," simon murmurs, and you stare right back at him.

"then don't."

he sucks on his teeth, looking away, and you tug on his hand, pulling his eyes back to you.

"look at me, simon," you say, and he looks sad. he's going to tell you something that you won't want to hear. he's going to tell you something that's been the truth since he enlisted, a reality that never bothered him until he realized he had a responsibility to keep a roof over your head. there's someone waiting inside of his house. there's a place that's waiting for him on one side of the bed he shares with you. there's someone else's shoes always next to his, and someone else's name that will always be beside his own.

family.

he has a family.

"i'll try and keep ya outta here," is all simon murmurs. you smile at that. it's a promise, but he won't lie to you. always honest, your husband. he tells you things as they are. he doesn't pretend. everything with simon is the truth as he presents it, and it's eerily comforting, even if the truth isn't one that you like.

"i love you, simon," you whisper, and when you touch his face finally, the sting of the gold of your wedding is a welcome distraction.

he vows to make this the last time you see him this way. nothing is worth seeing that face of yours like this--tired, disheveled, the angry crease in your brow. you're not meant for these things. for the waiting, the crying, the worry, it's not a life he meant to give you.

for a moment, he wonders if you'd ever ask him.

will you hang it up for me? will you leave for me?

the most terrifying part, he realizes, is that he isn't sure of what his answer would be. and he isn't sure of what you would do if he told you no.

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[yanluvr]

yan!shigaraki would pathetically fist his cock to pictures and videos he took of you when he believes you didn’t notice him. he follows you to your job, hangouts with your friends, and basically everywhere you go whenever he can; and if he can’t he’ll just sent one of the league members to watch you and report back to him. when shigaraki is playing his dating sims, he imagines the game’s love interest who is complimenting him is you. he only watches pornos if the person is a dom and shares some of the same figures as you.

shigaraki fantasizes about you pulling his hair and calling him names while also praising him and holding him close. he wants your lips to steal his first kiss, your hands and mouth to give him bruises and mark him as yours, and he wants you to have your way with him as you take his virginity.

when shigaraki sneaks inside your bedroom through your suspiciously open window, he goes to still whatever things he thinks you won’t notice are missing until he comes across a piece of paper that was being spot lit by your desk lamp. he walked towards the paper that was written in red ink spelling ‘surprise’. then out of nowhere you jump up from your hiding spot to tackle him onto your bed and put on quirk canceling handcuffs on him (where did you even get those?? he wondered).

you glared down at shigaraki like he was a useless insect, he really shouldn’t be turned on by this, but he is. your nonchalant expression turned sadistic as you watched your pathetic stalker try to blubber out excuses.

“well well well, the infamous leader of the league of villains stealing my clothes like a pathetic stalker. this is too funny. i should just call my many hero friends to take your dirty ass away… but fortunately for you, i pity you. so here’s what’s gonna happen.”

you run your hand down shigaraki’s twitching belly, unzipped the front of his pants, and slipped your fingers into his pre stained boxed to stroke his semi-hard cock into full hardness, all while he was whimpering pitifully and jerking his hips up along the movements of your hand. you watch his face like a hawk, grinning as you watch his expression change to lovesick and pleasure-filled.

“i’m going to give you the best fuck of your life, and in exchange: you’ll take me out on a date. we have a deal, stalker?”

shigaraki let out a shaky breath as he could feel the edge almost reach him, he nod his head and tried to resist kissing you right then and there. “y-yes, i’ll do whatever you want- oh god! f-fuck me, fuck me please!” he pleaded as his hands gripped onto your bedsheets for dear life.

oh you were gonna have so much fun with him.

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[imaginedisish]

Is It Casual Now? (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: So this one is a couple of requests rolled into one. I got some asks about dancing around feelings, and some others about a fight/make up sex...and this is what I came up with. This is (very obviously) inspired by "Casual" by the queen herself, Chappell Roan. (Gif is not mine--from a user called trashy on Pinterest). Enjoy!

Summary: I know baby nooo attachment, but we're...KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU'RE EATING ME OUT IS IT CASUAL NOW?

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cockwarming, so much smut, feelings, friends w/benefits/secret affair to lovers, Logan is afraid to love but goddammit he loves you, angsty asf, cursing, happy ending :), fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,405 short...not...

Over the course of his very long life, some of Logan’s memories have shifted, melded together. Days become nights and nights become days, an inescapable cycle with an indeterminate end. But Logan remembers the day he met you vividly. You tripped him up; sucked him out of the monotony of what at times felt like a meaningless existence. You changed everything. 

The summer air was hot and stuffy. He was standing in the hallway with Jean, Scott, Rogue, and Kurt. The door opened, sunlight filling the dark foyer. And then there you were, stepping inside, with Charles and Storm flanking you. 

Your eyes found his immediately. “My X-Men, this is our new recruit,” Charles had said, introducing you to the team. But you were only focused on the man in the middle. The man with the leather jacket and the dark black hair. 

“Hi,” you said shyly with a wave of your hand, eyes still focused on Logan. The rest of the team excitedly introduced themselves, but you weren’t listening. 

Logan smiled. “Hi,” he said back. He was all you could see. 

And he still is. But you’re dancing around your feelings—the both of you. You allow yourselves to give in, but only under the cover of darkness. Only in bed. Late at night. When the rest of the team is fast asleep. It’s always quiet; rushed steps down the hallway and soft taps on doors. Tripping into the darkness of a room to find the bed. A mess of limbs tangled together, moon high in the sky, cold light trickling through the curtains. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, the dawn creeping in through your window. Logan’s arm is wrapped around you, his hand holding your breast. It’s so domestic, so intimate. But you know he’s going to leave—one of you always leaves. Lately, it hurts worse every time the bed goes cold. 

“I should go,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. He tugs you closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’s still hard, his erection brushing against the curve of your ass. You push back into him teasingly. 

“Stay,” you beg, your hips rocking against him. 

He kisses your neck. “Can’t. You know we can’t.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know how much more of this arrangement you can take. The leaving. The hiding. The secretiveness. “Why?” You ask, separating from him. You roll over onto your other side to face him. “Why can’t we?”

“We just can’t,” he grunts, pushing himself up and out from under the covers. He finds his clothes on the ground and starts to dress himself. You sit up too, tears suddenly brimming behind your eyes. 

You shake your head. “That’s not an answer, Lo.” 

“Please,” he says, tugging his beater across his chest. He leans over you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You have to understand.” 

You nod, but you don’t understand. He kisses you once more before stepping quietly towards the door. His hand hovers over the doorknob, like part of him can’t take this either. Like he has to fight some demon deep inside him not to crawl back into bed and pull you close. You know him; you can see it in his face, in the way he stands.  

“See you later?” You ask, swallowing nervously. You need to hear him say it—need him to remind you that this isn’t over. You’re desperate for anything—desperate for him. 

Logan smiles. “Yeah,” he nods. “Come to my room tonight, okay?”

You fight back your tears, plastering a fake smile on your face. “Okay.”

And then he’s slipping out the door, softly shutting it behind him. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night…

His sheets are soft under your back. His arm holds you down, latched tightly over your hip, keeping your lower half glued to the mattress. His face is buried deep in your cunt. He’s lapping at you hungrily, needily. 

“Thought about you all day,” he mumbles against you, the bassy vibration of his voice sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. His fingers pump in and out of you, fast and hard. “Wanted to taste you so bad, pretty girl.” 

“Logan,” you whine as he takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. “F-feels so good.” 

Your walls flutter around him as he sinks his fingers deeper inside you. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a desperation you’re well acquainted with. You feel it whenever you’re around him, whenever he’s pressing himself closer to you, pushing himself inside of you. 

“Doing so good for me, darlin’,” he soothes, his thumb drawing circles into your hip. “Tastes so fucking good, so sweet.” His words are practically throwing you over the edge, destroying you, and then building you back up. 

He’s knuckle-deep inside you, lapping at you, watching your every reaction to see what makes you feel good. The sight of him is overwhelming—his mouth latched onto your clit, hair a mess, sweat on his brow, lust darkening his eyes. 

You throw your head back as he hits your sweet spot, his fingers scissoring inside you. “S-so close,” you stutter as he sinks into you. “Need you, Lo,” you whimper. 

“Need you too, beautiful,” he murmurs between laps. “More than you’ll ever know.” The words—their vulnerability and meaning—push you over, your orgasm crashing in waves. “That’s it,” he coos, plunging into you. “Give it to me.” He talks you through it, soft praises slipping from his lips as his tongue drags along your clit. Lemme taste you come, sweetheart. So good. So fucking beautiful. 

He pulls his fingers from your cunt long after you’ve finished. He licks one long stripe through your folds before crawling up your body and settling in between your legs. His lips find yours, and you can taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue, wearing you like a badge of honor, like proof of his commitment to you.

Commitment. Right.  

He made you feel so good that you almost let yourself forget. Your arrangement. This stupid, goddamn arrangement. 

No staying. No telling. You. Him. The moonlight. And then nothing. 

Logan’s face is buried in the crook of your neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot underneath your ear. 

“Lo,” you whisper. He hums against you, not stopping. “Logan,” you chide again. 

He pushes himself up, looking down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What is it, princess?” You swallow harshly, blinking back your tears. The expression on his face shifts as he recognizes the pain in your eyes. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head. “I want you,” is all you say. 

“I want you too,” he says back, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“N-no,” you choke. “I want you.”

He pulls up a bit, putting some space between the two of you. “You have me,” he says, confusion painted across his face. 

“No, I don’t,” you mutter, shutting your eyes. 

Logan rolls off of you and sits up against the headboard. “What are you talking about?” 

You open your eyes, looking up at him. “I can’t do this ‘sneaking around’ thing anymore,” you start, tears flooding your eyes as you struggle to hold them back. “I want—” you cut yourself off. You can’t play down your emotions anymore. “I need you, all of you. Always. I’m tired of leaving, of hiding, of this whole casual thing.”

“Casual?” His voice is harsh, accusatory. “This isn’t fucking casual to me. You think I don’t care about you?” He reaches out to touch you, but you turn away, swinging your legs around the side of the bed. You grab your clothes from the floor and dress quickly. 

You turn back to face him. “Why don’t you want to stay with me, then? Why are we only together when no one is looking?” You shake your head, your hands balling into fists. “Why don’t you want me all the time?”

He scoffs, standing from the bed and striding over to you. “You don’t get it. I do. I want you. I just can’t—”

“You can’t what?” You shout. You don’t care who can hear you. You’re not even thinking about the others right now. You’re only thinking about Logan. And then, the words shoot out your mouth, cold and angry. Empty. Strained. “Can’t love me like I love you?”

Your eyes widen, shocked at what you’ve just said. Your chest heaves, and you rush to the door. 

“Wait, please,” Logan calls, running to catch you before you leave. “Don’t go.” 

You twist the knob. “It’s too late now.” You open the door and slip out, trying to shove it closed in his face. But Logan pushes against you, keeping the door open and stepping out into the hallway. You turn around and storm down the corridor, ignoring his footsteps following behind. 

He grabs your wrist, and you yank it away. You’re in front of your bedroom door now. Logan is just a few feet away. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

His eyes search yours frantically. “No, let’s talk. Let’s—”

You cut him off. “I don’t want to anymore, Lo.” You open your door, ignoring his pleas, leaving him on the other side as you slam it shut behind you. You rest your back against the cold wood, sliding down to the floor. You pull your legs into your chest, your head resting on your knees. 

Your tears flow freely now, running down your cheeks. You sit like that for what feels like hours, sobs racking through your chest. But when your tears finally subside and you look up, you see the moon is still high in the sky. 

You force yourself to stand, your knees weak as you push yourself off the ground. Your throat is dry from all that time spent crying. You decide to go down to the kitchen, to get water, to calm down. But when you open the door, you’re met with him. 

Logan. He’s on the other side, his hand gripping the door frame, muscles flexing, towering over you. You try to slip under his arm, but he doesn’t let you, grabbing your waist and holding you in place. 

“We need to talk,” he mutters, backing you into the room and shutting the door with a kick. 

You cross your arms against your chest. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” But he isn’t standing down. Your thighs back into the edge of your bed as Logan leans down over you. You look up at him, doing your all not to give in to the voice that screams to touch him, to taste him. You take a deep breath. “We want different things. You don’t want me the way I want you, and that’s fine,” you lie; it isn’t fine at all. 

“I never said that,” he huffs, his fingertips tentatively stroking your arms. You can’t pull away as his eyes find yours. “I just…” he trails off, taking your hands in his. 

You scoff, shaking your head. “You can’t even tell me how you feel. You can’t even—” “Because it’s hard!” He says, his jaw working. “It’s hard when you lose everyone you love.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You don’t get it,” he murmurs, squeezing your hands, his chest heaving. 

“Logan—”

“You’re always around, always on my fucking mind.” He pauses, his eyes glossing over as the words fall from his lips. “I have never loved someone the way I love you. And if I lose you…if I can’t have you…” He trails off, pain clear on his face. “I will never be the same again. You changed me. And that’s terrifying. I felt safer keeping you at a distance but…” His breath catches in his throat. “I can’t go back to how I was before you.”

Your lips part as you stammer, searching for the right thing to say. “I-I didn’t know. I just assumed that you—” “That I was just fucking you?” He asks, tilting his head in disbelief. “This has never been just fucking.” He slots his knee between your legs, tugging you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you. Always have. From that first day.” 

You lean into his touch. “I love you, too,” you whisper. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “I can’t lose you,” he says. There’s a tremble in his voice. “It’s just you. It’s only ever gonna be you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you reassure. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

He nods against you. “I never meant to hurt you,” Logan husks. “Never meant to make you feel like I didn’t love you.”  

“Logan, it’s okay,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. You need him closer, and you know he needs you too. His hands slip underneath your shirt as his knee nudges against your center. “Always gonna need you.” You can’t help but grind down on him, the pressure relieving the building ache in your core. “N-need you now.”

“Need you too, pretty girl,” he soothes. He guides you down onto the mattress. His palms spread across your stomach, tracing over your ribs—just under your breasts. “Wanna make you feel good.” He cups your tits, squeezing softly, his thumbs ghosting over your nipples. 

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm, his knee still pressing into your all too-clothed cunt. He knows how much you need him—the way your hips roll against him, how you arch up to meet his touch. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, dragging your heat against him again. “Fuck me, please.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his erection hard against your thigh. You can feel his resolve slipping. “Gonna give you what you want, pretty girl,” he groans. “Give you anything you want.”

Everything is rushed, frantic, needy. He’s sitting up, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head, practically ripping it in the process. He hooks his thumbs into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs in one quick movement. 

He takes you in, his eyes flitting up and down your body. “So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, his hand squeezing your hip reverentially before tearing off his beater and throwing it to the floor. He slips his sweatpants down his legs, and then his boxers. 

Logan pushes you into the center of the bed as he climbs over you. He balances on his forearm while his free hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. 

You can tell he wants to shove himself inside, to take you greedily, but he doesn’t. He’s holding back; going slow like he’s remembering this so he can think about it later, when he needs it most—savoring the feeling of you against him. His tip slides through your folds, teasing your entrance. He nudges against your clit, spreading your arousal. 

But his composure quickly cracks. He’s suddenly sinking inside you deeply—down to the hilt—with no warning, taking up every inch you have to give him. He stretches you out, the size of him still no easier to take than that first time he fucked you. “Logan,” you whine, hands pawing at his back for support. 

He swallows your whimpers with a kiss. “I’m right here.” His voice is honeyed as he talks you through it. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Not going anywhere.” He pulls out and shoves himself back inside, deeper this time. His fingers are on your clit now, circling softly. “So fucking tight, so wet. Perfect pussy.”

His cock rubs your inner walls deliciously, pumping in and out. He’s on top of you, inside you, and he’s yours. He’s all yours. You wrap your legs around his waist as he rocks into you. He’s building his pace, letting himself go. 

“It’s s-so good.” You stumble over your words, already fucked out. “Y-you’re so good.” 

His thrusts are faster now, his hips snapping roughly into yours. “So soft,” he murmurs, biting your bottom lip and then licking away the sting he left behind. “So fucking soft and pretty. Taking me so good, darlin’.”

His words spark that fire in your belly. You can feel it spread down, down, down. The ache between your legs blooming, turning into something bigger. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him. He groans at the feeling as you take him deeper. All you want, all you need, is him. Logan. “Yours,” you whisper. “L-Logan I’m all yours. Not going anywhere.”

“Shit,” he curses, pounding into you, all the way hit after hit. “You’re all I need,” he confesses between thrusts, panting. He flicks your clit, pinching, circling hard. “Mine, all fucking mine. Never gonna let go.”

“Don’t,” you beg, his forehead pressing to yours. He’s all-consuming; he’s everywhere and he’s everything. “D-don’t let go,” you finish, your lips ghosting his. He takes the hint, and his lips crash down onto yours as he ruts into you. 

You can feel yourself cresting, ready to let go. “I know you’re getting close for me, beautiful,” Logan growls, pressing a kiss to that sweet spot under your ear. “Can feel you squeezing me.” Your walls clench around him, and he groans. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Feels so good.”

“L-Lo…” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought as he fucks into you, stroking your clit faster and harder. You’re falling apart underneath him, every thrust pushing you closer to that peak. You throw your head back, your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Eyes on me,” Logan demands, his voice thick and raspy. You listen, looking up at him. His eyes are locked on yours, lust-filled and dark. “Wanna see that pretty face when you come, darlin’.” 

You can feel his pace faltering—can feel him getting closer too. But he’s relentless as his hips roll against yours, fingers still working your clit. It’s too much. “Logan,” you whimper. “I-I’m gonna…” “I know, beautiful,” he says softly. “Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my cock.” 

He thrusts again, flicking your clit. And that’s all it takes for you to crumble. He watches closely as you come undone. You’re trembling underneath him, his fingers still circling your core. Your muscles contract around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. You moan his name like it’s a prayer, something holy. But this is beyond that. This is something more, something different. 

“L-love you, Lo,” you murmur, pleasure still coursing through your veins. 

Logan curses under his breath, your words unlocking something trapped inside him. His cock throbs against your walls, and you know he’s almost there. “Love you too, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Love you so fucking much.” He slides his hand up your body and under your back, pulling you closer. You need the contact, and so does he. 

“W-want you to come inside,” you whine, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“F-fuck, yeah?” He stutters. His cock twitches again. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart, give you what you need.” His lips find yours as he comes, kissing you hungrily. He’s warm inside you, painting your walls, filling you up just like he said he would. Logan’s head falls to your shoulder as his thrusts slow. He stalls inside you, staying there, not quite ready to slip out.

“Lo?” You call. He hums a yeah, sweetheart, into your shoulder. “D-don’t want you to pull out. Want you to stay inside.” 

He mutters a fuck and presses a kiss to your collarbone. He maneuvers the two of you under the covers, careful not to pull out. You’re a tangle of limbs, still connected, still together. He’s half hard inside you, and you know he’s not quite finished just yet. But there’s later, tomorrow, forever. Everything feels perfect—the way it was always meant to be. 

There’s one thing left to do; one thing left to ask. 

“Logan?” You call again. He smiles at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose. “Can you stay?”

His smile widens. “Always gonna stay,” he soothes, pulling you tighter to his chest, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “You never have to ask again.”

You hum, burying your head into the center of his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says against the crown of your head. “Always will. Always gonna stay.”

Always.

tags: @babygirl-4986

[luveline]

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 

“I’m so happy.” 

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 

“What’s the album?” he asks. 

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 

He stills. “They are?” 

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 

“Thank you for the cookie.” 

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 

[koosluvss]

“Say it” - jjk fic

—“Look how good we’d be together ____, we look so fuckin’ good together hmm? Say it baby..”

you always looks forward to having date night with your boyfriend Yejoon. You guys have been together for a little over and year and after him being so busy with work he finally takes you on a date. You’ve been spending most of your time with Jungkook, your best friend. Never in your whole life would you have ever thought that you’d be sitting at a table with your boyfriend while your best friends cum drips down your leg.

pairing :: bsf,jk!! + fem-oc!!

genre :: smut ‼️ (little angst if you really think about it when someone confesses 🤫)

wc :: 3.2k

warnings :: cheating oc!! lying, sorta public sex (?) confession, cursing, not choking but hand wrapped around throat, boob play, oral sex (f receiving) protected sex! (birth control), cumming inside ☺️

hello everyone! this is just a random story I wrote that I wanted to post on here. I hope you guys enjoy it and if you have any ask’s please feel free to ask me!

𖧐𐮚~~~~~~~~~~~~~~𖧐𐮚~~~~~~•

“Jungkook for the last fucking time I am not about to ditch Yejoon just to hang out with you” I said to the phone that is sitting on the edge of my vanity as I do some finishing touches to my makeup

“Come on ____! You know you wanna see me right now” I heard him say from the other side of the phone, his smile clearly being heard in his voice. I rolled my eyes and picked up the phone so that I could check if my boyfriend had texted me about our date

“I have to leave my house soon, Yejoon gonna pick me up in a bit” I said before tapping the facetime screen and seeing Jungkook look at me through the screen with a small pout on his face. “Get rid of the pout Jeon” I said and he rolled his eyes at me

“Pleasee ____? I haven’t seen you in so long” He said in his whiny tone, I shook my head at him before getting up from my vanity chair and picking up a pair of my black heels that will go with the black dress that I am wearing

“I have to go Jungkook, we can hang out some other day. Byee!” I said giving him a small wave before I hung up the call. I put on the heels that I chose out and I looked at myself through the body mirror that I have in my bathroom. As soon as I left the bathroom I heard a soft knock on my apartment door. I swung the door open and I was greeted with the sight of my boyfriend

“Hi baby” he said as a soft smile was placed upon his lips before he held out a bouquet of flowers for me. I quickly grabbed them and gave him a hug and placed a small kiss on his lips.

“I missed you” I said as my own smile started to form on my lips as I saw him look me up and down. He placed a hand on my hip before he led me out of my apartment and towards his car.

“You look so pretty tonight, I love this dress on you” I heard him say as he opened his car door for me like the gentleman he is. I quickly step in and he shuts the door when he sees that I'm in and about to buckle up. He gets into the car and starts to drive us to dinner, our car ride is filled with small talk and little giggles here and there. My eyes sparkle as I see the view of the beautiful restaurant that has a lake view behind it. Yejoon parks the car before he gets out and opens my door. He held his hand out and helped me get out before we both walked towards the restaurant. When we walk in Yejoon goes to talk to the waiter about the reservation that he’s made. Once we both get seated, I finally take in the beauty of this place. We sat next to the huge window which gives us access to the view of the lake that has the lights reflected over it.

“This place is so beautiful, Yejoon, thank you for taking me here” I said, giving him a soft smile before I looked over to the table next to us and saw another couple holding hands and looking at each other with love. Yejoon and I talk for a bit while our waiter comes up to us and gives us some wine and takes our orders before leaving us alone. I hear my phone vibrate next to me and I pick it up to look at who's texting me. ‘Jungkook- Go to the bathroom’ I look at my phone with a confused expression on my face. I excuse myself and Yejoon simply nods at me before I grab my bag and make my way to the bathroom. Once I get to the bathroom I simply stand in the hallway before I get my phone and right as I’m about to dial his number I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I jumped slightly before I turned around and was greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s warm smile

“Hi baby” he said mocking Yejoon’s voice as I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous behavior. Just as I’m about to say something to him I feel him drag me into the family bathroom. He locks the door behind himself before I turn around at stare at him

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked him as I placed my bag on the sleek marble counter, I crossed my arms before I continued to stare him down. He looks so fucking good right now, he always does. I would almost feel bad for the way I’m looking at my best friend while my boyfriend is outside waiting for me to join him at the table again. He walks toward me and leans against the counter giving me another one of his famous smiles that shout ‘you know you can’t be angry at me’

“I told you I missed you and I wanted to hang out no?” He said simply before he himself looks me up and down, I notice him briefly looking at my hips before he brings his eyes back up to mine

“Jungkook, I’m having dinner with my boyfriend right no-”

“No you’re not because I'm standing right here and I wasn’t at the table with you” he says, cutting me off. I feel my cheeks turn red as he says that and I look down at the floor. His finger hooks under my chin before he leans my head back up so I’m still looking at him. “What’s wrong? Got my baby all flustered for me?” I heard him say before giving me a slight smirk

“Why are you here?” I said pushing on his chest gently so that there could be some space in between both of our bodies. I see him tilt his head at me and a fake ass pout sat on top of his pretty pink lips that are decorated with two silver hoops on his lower lip

“Are you saying you didn’t miss me at all?” he says, stepping closer towards me so that the space between us is closed. Clearly not liking the distance between us

“No I didn’t, I was with Yejoon. Why would I think of you?” I say and I see him eyeing my lips before they make there way back up to my eyes

“That’s a shame because while you’re over here enjoying your night with your boyfriend I’m over here dying. You take up all my headspace, I was thinking about what you were wearing, what you would get, where he is going to take you, and why you are with such a shame of a man and not with me.” I heard him say while I felt his hand gently caress my cheek

“Jungkook, what?” I said with confusion written all over my face

“____ baby, you can’t possibly think that you should settle for him” he said while he looked in my eyes as he only saw pure confusion in them, “Wow you really are dumb”

“Excuse me?” I said before I felt his hand drop from my cheek to my hip. I know it’s wrong and I should probably tell him to stop and get his hands off me but at the moment everything just felt right. His hands on me and both of our bodies pressed together just felt right. I felt his breath gently brush against my lips and I just felt like melting in his hold. His hand grabbed mine and he placed it on top of his chest just enough so that I could feel the faint feeling of his heart beat.

“You feel this ____? This is because of you, I'm only for you. You have me whipped for you and I just have to sit back and watch as you blindly fall in love with this asshole. It hurts me because I have to see you fall in love with someone who isn’t me. I beg you to be by my side so often because it just feels so complete to me, you complete me” He said softly as I felt his heart beat on the palm of my hand quicken. I look at him in shock as he looks down at me with his soft brown eyes filled with pure emotion. “So please ____, choose me. Let me be the man who shows you love and affection. I’m sick of having to tell myself I can’t have you because I know I can and I will” He says, his hand lets go of mine and I feel him brush some hair out of my face.

“Jungkook, I can’t, and you know it too I love him” I said softly as I felt my heart ache as I heard his confession

“No you don’t” He simply says to me before he cups my face in his hands gently. “You can love me and you do it’s just you don’t want to tell yourself that”

“Jungkook, I love him” I said as I felt some tears fill my eyes. My own mind is filled with confusion as I keep thinking if I really see myself with Yejoon. As I think of him Jungkook is the only name thats pops up in my head

“If you truly loved him you wouldn’t let your bestfriend hold you and confess his love to you huh?” He said as I felt his face inch closer to me. He had me stuck, I didn’t know what to say. It was like I’m intoxicated with him. I feel his lips touch mine and that's all it took until my mind is completely made. I love my best friend, I always have. His hands dropped from my face down to holding my hips and my own arms snake up to wrap around his neck. I felt him let out a slight smile against my lips before he picked me up. My legs wrapped around his waist as I felt him place me on top of the marble counter, our kiss never breaking. His lips found their way down to my jawline then slowly trailed down to my neck, his hot breath hitting my neck felt like heaven to me

“Fuck kook” I breathed out as I felt him gently suck the sensative skin behind my ear. His hand trailed their way down from my hips so that they are now resting on both of my thighs. His fingers hook onto the bottom of my dress before he looks up at me to see if I was okay with him doing this. I let out a slow nod then I felt him lift my dress up enough so that my lacy panties were exposed to his eyes. He went on his knees before placing gentle kisses on the insides of my thighs causing me to bite my lip gently, I watched as he slowly made his way up to my covered pussy, my wetness was starting to leak out through the thin material of my panties. Jungkook let out a soft smile before he placed a soft kiss over my covered heat

“So wet for me hm?” He said softly against me before his finger moved my panties to the side so that he had full access to me. I felt him press a soft kiss against my clit which caused a soft moan to escape from my lips. His tongue dipped into my folds and I felt him suck my clit teasingly then letting his tongue fuck my pussy. My hands find their way to his head, I let my fingers get tangled in his hair before I bite my lip and I try to maintain my moans so that they are quiet enough not to be heard outside of the bathroom door. My head falls back as I feel Jungkook’s tongue lap in my pussy. I always knew Jungkook had a past of being so good at sex that he had girls begging and crying for him to come back to them, each and everyone getting rejected. I had even thought of what it would feel like to fuck him or even just have him eat me out. All those thoughts went away once I started to date Yejoon. (sort of)

Jungkook pulled away from my pussy, his chin glistening with my wetness and he smiled at me before he stood up. “Get off the counter, I’ve been waiting so long to be able to fuck you” He said as I jumped off the counter before he turned me around and fully took off my panties letting them fall to the floor. He lifts up my dress higher so that it wouldn’t get in our way. I feel him take his belt and black jeans off before I could feel the clear outline of his hard cock rubbing against my ass. “Shit, I don’t have any protection” He said from behind me

“We don’t need it, I'm on the pill” I said and looked at him through the mirror, a slick smirk placed upon his lips before I heard him take his boxers off. His hand held my waist while the other held his cock and aligned it with my entrance

“Baby if you ever want to stop just let me know, you’re in control” I heard him say while making eye contact with me through the mirror. He gave me a soft smile then he pushed his cock inside of me

“Oh shit” I moaned out once I felt him fully enter me. He lets out a soft groan while his grip on my hips tightens. My mouth fell open in ecstasy once I felt him thrust into me, it felt as if I was being brought into heaven

“Fuck ____, you’re so tight” He said while his head got thrown back as he continued to thrust into me at a erotic pace. I felt him bring the top of my dress down a little, enough so that my boobs spill out, Jungkook quickly grabbed one of my breasts and played with it in his tattooed hand. Quiet moans escaped my lips as He continued to fuck himself into me. His free hand wrapped around my throat before he pulled my body up so that I’m looking into the mirror. I could almost cum at the sight of him fucking himself into my pussy, his long fingers grabbing and playing with the sensitive skin of my breasts. “Look how good we’d be together ____, we look so fuckin’ good together hmm? Say it baby” He said before I felt his grip slightly tighten around my throat. I try to form a sentence but the only thoughts that come into my head are about how good he’s making me feel. I hear him chuckle in my ear with his deep sexy voice, his lips place soft kisses on my shoulder and up to my neck. “Awe, look at how pretty you look struggling to answer me, getting all brain dead while getting fucked with my dick” He said in my ear before he let go of my neck and let his hand fall down to my clit as he began to rub it slowly. “I want you to look at yourself while you cum for me hm?” I nodded at him before my back arched against his back, a louder moan escaped my lips as I felt a knot in my stomach form.

“Kook, im gonna-” I tried to warm him but I just couldn’t, I looked at myself and saw my face all sweaty and my cheeks a bright red color

“Cum baby, I wanna feel you cum around my dick” He said before letting out another soft groan as he continued to rub my clit. I do exactly as he says. After a few thrusts I come undone while he continues to thrust into me. My mouth fell open and my head fell back so that it was resting on his shoulder. Not so long after I felt his thrusts grow sloppy and he came inside of me. Once he pulled out he turned me around and placed a loving kiss to my lips. “God, I love you so much” He whispered against my lips before he helped me clean myself up

“Jungkook,” I said softly as I watched him put his clothes back on after he helped me fix myself so that Yejoon wouldn’t know anything about what just happened. He looked up at me, his soft eyes meeting mine again as he finished buckling his belt. “I love you, I don’t want this to end” I said and he smiled at me before walking towards me putting some hair behind my ear while placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“You think I’d just quit on you after I confessed to you? Hell no” He said before letting out a light laugh looking at me with admiration in his eyes. “We can talk about us when you go home later okay baby?” He said pulling away from me, I quickly nodded at him before I saw him exit the bathroom door. I felt a little piece of me disappear as I saw him walk away from me. I look at the mirror and quickly fix some of my makeup before I walk out to Yejoon again.

“Hey there you are! I thought you ran away from me” He says chuckling at me as he takes a bite of his steak. Damn we took so long that the food already came. I sat down in my chair and gave him a fake smile placing my bag down next to me

“Sorry my aunt was going through something and I needed to help her through it” I said laughing awkwardly before I took a bite out of my now cold food. I heard my phone ding, I picked it up and saw a notification from Jungkook. ‘Jungkook- Now that I think about it, you never answered me when I asked if we looked good together. Now I wanna hear you say it.’ I looked up and saw Jungkook standing near the exit looking down at his phone with a small smirk. I ignored his text and took another bite of my food. Ding. I let out a scoff before I opened my phone again and saw another text from him. ‘Jungkook- Don’t ignore me. Say it.’ I giggled quietly to his text before I typed back, ‘- Don’t be an idiot, of course we look amazing together.’ I typed back and I turned off my phone before I saw Yejoon looking at me

“Was that your aunt?” He asked

“Yeah she was just telling me some funny story of my uncle, I’ll tell you later” I said before taking another bite of my food

“I love you ____, you’re such a perfect woman I don’t know what I would do without you” he said smiling at me brightly

“Me too baby” I said, forcing another smile at him as I felt Jungkook's cum slowly make its way down my leg. “So much”

𖧐𐮚~~~~~~~~~~~~~~𖧐𐮚~~~~~~•

Okay guys thank you so much for reading. This was my first time writing smut so I really hope that I did okay 😓 like I’ve said before thank you so much for reading and I’ll post again soon!

- koosluvss

I

[vinvantae]

How the current F1 grid acts after going from your friend to lover

Some sections inspired by prompts from @me-writes-prompts

Some are longer than others just depending on how inspired I was, not playing favourites I swear!

Some are angsty, some are fluffy. Some are a lil sexy but they’re all basically just different post friends-to-lovers scenarios. Enjoy!

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#1 Max Verstappen

He relishes in your warm touch against his skin, but he was still so unfamiliar when it happened in front of his friends - even the soft press of your lips against his cheek had his cheeks turning the darkest shade of pink, his next words coming out as stammers. He would be annoyed by the way his friends - your friends - teased him about it but after years of pining - he was just glad he finally got to call you his, your soft giggles filling his ears as he proudly admitted that he was, in fact, a massive simp.

“You’re cute.” You whisper in his ear, laughing when somehow his cheeks darkened even more.

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#2 Logan Sargeant

You could see Logan watching you out of the corner of your eye as the two of you made lunch - you couldn’t help the smile that tugged your mouth. “You’re staring, Logan.” His cheeks flushed, but he approaches you nonetheless - his eyes sparkling. “Can…” He took a deep breath. “May… May I kiss you? Please.” A soft hum left your lips as you looped your arms over his shoulders, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to ask… I’m yours.”

He ducked his head to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to saying that.”

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#3 Daniel Ricciardo

The moment the two of you locked eyes, you burst into laughter - tears rolling down your cheeks as you lent into his hold, his cackles bouncing off of the walls as the people around you exchanged looks. “Did I say something funny?” You tried to explain but you couldn’t get a full sentence out without your own giggles cutting you off.

“Are you guys crazy or what?” Daniel managed to calm his laughter just for a moment - his brown eyes sparkling as he looked at you, his smile morphing from one of humour to one of fondness as you tried to calm yourself, wiping away a tear. Crazy in love, maybe.

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#4 Lando Norris

You were rudely awoken by a repeated clacking against your window - none other than Lando stood down on the ground, smiling up at you when you finally opened up the glass to look down. “What on earth are you doing?” You laughed. “You’re my boyfriend now, we don’t need to sneak around anymore.”

When you let him into your place, his hands were immediately on your hips - pressing a deep kiss to your lips. “I miss sneaking around.” He hummed, somehow hauling you even closer. “But I do have to admit… this is better. Showing off to everyone that you’re mine.”

“Yours, huh?” You purr. “Should make me scream loud enough that my neighbours know too.”

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#10 Pierre Gasly

Your breath catches in your throat as he presses you into the wall - his arms caged either side of your head as the music thumps loud in your ears. The smirk that toys on his lips has your heart pounding in your chest. He pressed his body against yours - the months of pining after you were finally over and he had you exactly where he wanted you. “I know exactly what you’re thinking…”

“Oh? You do?” You tease, letting your hands run up his chest. “And what are you gonna do about that, mon amour?”

His chuckle was dark, a thrill zipped up your spine - and as his eyes locked against yours, you knew you were in for a wild night.

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#14 Fernando Alonso

You couldn’t wrap your head around how often his hands were on you - before it was always just a ghostly hand on the small of your back or a gentle hand on your shoulder but now? He’d haul you onto your lap whenever he got the chance, his large hands finding purchase on your waist. Or he’d sweep you into a kiss in front of large crowds, not caring who was watching - and you couldn’t get enough.

“Nando, if I knew you were going to be like this… I would’ve confessed my feelings for you a whole lot sooner” You laughed, as he had practically run away from his PR agent to sweep you up into a massive hug.

“I don’t know how I managed to keep my hands to myself for all of those years, I’m just glad I don’t have to hold back anymore.”

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#16 Charles Leclerc

As his arms slipped around your middle, chin coming to rest on your shoulder - you felt content. After years of mutual pining, his touch felt more natural than ever. The two of you had always been close and the transitions from friends to lovers was so natural, his touches became more intentional, his hugs lasted longer - his hands lower. You turned in his hold so you could brush your lips together in a longing kiss, his stubbled cheeks in your hands. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, mon chou.” He hummed. “But unlike all the other times? I can show you just how much.” Your laughter was as light as air as he scooped you up into his arms to whisk you to the confines of your bedroom.

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#18 Lance Stroll

Things were still new, fresh, so you decided to keep the nature of your blossoming relationship between the two of you private. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances at each other across the garage whenever you could, struggling to hold back the smiles. He was brought back down to earth when an engineer nudged a shoulder against his- turning to be met with a teasing, raised brow.

“So, you two..?”

“We’re friends.”

“Just friends?”

He let his gaze fall back to you, unable to help the smile on his face as you gave him a knowing look.

“Yeah, just friends.”

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#20 Kevin Magnussen

Kevin wasn’t huge on PDA, sure - he was more than happy to hold your hand, but for the most part he kept his hands to himself, especially at work. But when it got busy, sardines packed into a small office space for some last minute announcement - he’d always find his way to your side, arm brushed right up against yours. As Ayao addressed the room, he leant in - his voice a whisper. “Fancy a distraction?”

“Depends what you have in mind, Kev.” You whispered back, eyes forward - trying your best to pay attention, but your cheeks instantly heated up as his hand ghosts over your rear.

“You have no idea, søde.”

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#22 Yuki Tsunoda

You’d fallen asleep on Yuki before - he used to freeze up, determined not to move an inch in order not to wake you. But this time, with your head on his chest - hand splayed across his shirt, he simply pulled the blanket off of the back of the sofa and laid it across you both.

He smiled softly as you grumbled and snuggled in closer, allowing him to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and close his own eyes - just enjoying the weight and warmth of your body on top of his.

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#23 Alex Albon

It was surprisingly warm as the two of you laid on a picnic blanket under the stars, your head rested on his chest - a strong arm tucked underneath you. This was the first real time you’d spent together alone since you’d both finally admitted your feelings and it felt so right. You let your eyes flicker across the stars, a soft gasp passing your lips as you witnessed a shooting star.

“I don’t think Greggs is open this late.”

“How on earth did you know I wished for a sausage roll?”

He chuckled softly. “I know you better than anyone else.”

“Do you though?”

His gaze flickered down to you as you propped your chin up on his chest to look up at him, the smile on his face fond. “Of course I do.”

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#24 Zhou Guanyu

“Open up.”

You opened your mouth, allowing his hand to guide the spoon between your lips - hand cupped beneath your chin to catch any potential dribbles. He watched with eager eyes as you swallowed, the flavours washing over your chin. “Oh my god, that’s delicious.”

“And to think, you doubted me.”

With a playful roll of the eyes, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve never cooked anything more than instant ramen in my presence. How was I supposed to know?”

“Cooking is my love language, so get used to it… gonna make sure you’re never hungry.”

“Oh, a boyfriend who’s my own personal chef? I am lucky.”

He grinned at that.

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#31 Esteban Ocon

You wobbled as you fished through the piles of jackets on the bed, trying to fish out your jacket as Esteban leant against the doorframe with a playful smile on his face. “You should just stay here, mon ange.”

A soft whine left your lips. “Estie, I shouldn’t.”

He approached you, his hands wrapping around your middle - pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay. I insist… it’s cold out, I’ll keep you warm.”

After a moment of protest, you looped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

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#44 Lewis Hamilton

Although you were more than friends, you were still yet to let him put a label on it. Too scared that saying you were more than just two people screwing, would open yourself up to heartbreak.

But it was different this time, his eyes full of want as his fingers brushed across the skin of your jaw. You wanted to be his, you lent in to kiss him but his grip on your face stopped you, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Lew, please.”

“You know exactly what I want, sweetheart.” He whispered, lips brushing lightly over yours. “I need you to say it. I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours, Lewis. Always… Now, kiss me.”

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#55 Carlos Sainz

It was crowded and loud, shoulders bumping against yours - throat burning from having to shout loud enough for anyone to hear you. You swirled your drink in your glass, chin propped up on your hand as you lent against the bar. Carlos could see the scowl on your face from across the room, so he politely excused himself from his friends to approach you.

“Mi vida.” Somehow you managed to hear his low purr over the music. “You look bored.”

You looked up to him, his brown eyes boring into yours. “So bored.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a deep kiss to your lips - stealing your breath. “We should definitely get out of here? Don’t you think so?”

It was almost comical how fast you nodded, letting him haul you out of the club.

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#63 George Russell

“Stop walking away from me!” He practically yelled, halting you in your tracks - you turned to face him, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You’re my best friend, I just.. I just can’t lose you.”

You scowled. “God, I hate that word.”

“Lose?”

“Friend.” You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “George, we’re not just friends, we’ve not been just friends for a long time…”

He stepped closer, taking your hands away from your face - linking your fingers together by your side. “I know, this is all just so new to me. I care about you endlessly… I want this, us, to work.”

You smiled softly, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. “We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?”

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#77 Valtteri Bottas

“You look tired.”

You looked up from your coffee as Valtteri stepped into the room - his mullet messy from sleep as he stepped around the kitchen counter to give you a kiss. The two of you had been roommates for two years, but had recently found yourselves falling comfortably in a relationship - his bedroom long since abandoned.

“I did not know you had the ability to snore that loud, Val.”

He let out a snort of a chuckle. “Well, it wasn’t like I knew that you sleep with a hundred stuffed animals either.”

You giggled, placing your mug on the counter so you could pull him closer. “You wanna go back to your own room?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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#81 Oscar Piastri

“This was a terrible idea.”

Oscar laughed as he stood just ahead of you on the ice - you were holding onto the railing for dear life as you shuffled your skates towards him. He rolled his eyes and effortlessly skated over. “You’ll never get better if you don’t let go. I won’t let you fall.”

With a huff you finally relinquished your grip and made an attempt to skate, for a moment - it feels like you have it, but a second later you’re crashing face first into Oscar’s chest - the two of you falling back onto the ice.

“Oh my god, Osc. I’m so sorry!” You squeaked. “You okay?”

“I got you flowers for our first date and you gave me a concussion, that doesn’t seem like a fair deal.” He teased. “A kiss would make it better.”

With a playful roll of the eyes you lent down to kiss him - definitely a first date to remember.

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A lil bit of everything for everyone! Hope you enjoyed x

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the bosses daughter part two

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of past hookups, semi public sex, almost caught, golfer!rafe

part one / part two

“who are you looking at?” your dad questions, pressing his face to the window, but there's too many people mulling around to realize who your eyes are on.

“jesus.” you groan and pull the curtains shut. “no one! i was just looking outside at the storm coming in.”

“i don't believe you!” your dad calls as you stomp away. it's telling enough how often you've been at the club, and it's only a matter of time for him to realize that your drop ins are lining up with a certain instructors schedule.

you pull out your phone as you take a seat on the couch, navigating to rafes number. you exchanged it after your third hookup and have been texting nonstop since.

you quickly type out a message, knowing rafe will read it once he's done with his lesson.

supposed to storm soon. dad will notice if any carts are still out. meet you in the storage closet?

you wait for your dad to leave, probably heading back to his office or to scold some employee before you head towards the storage closet, knowing rafe is aware of the one you're talking about.

you sit down at the bench in the hallway, waiting until you hear the familiar footsteps of rafe walking down the hall.

“hi.” you stand up with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips despite not being fully concealed, not too worried about the risk in the isolated area of the country club.

“hey gorgeous.” rafe opens the door and pulls you inside, listening to the chorus of your giggles.

“how was your lesson?” you ask as you both undress, ashamed that this will have to be another quickie, but knowing you need each other's bodies too bad to wait a moment longer.

“good.” rafe hums. “braxtons almost got his swing down.”

“aw, good for him.”

the moment all of your clothes are piled on the floor, the conversation stops abruptly as your lips meet each other's, kissing passionately.

“come here baby.” rafe presses your back to the door, hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you, getting so easily lost in your lips.

“come on.” you giggle, pulling away after a couple minutes of kissing. “we can't take too long. dad almost caught me watching you.”

“mmm, you just can't get enough can you?” rafe laughs, hands reaching under your thighs to pull you up. your legs lock around his hips, feeling his cock already hard and pressing against your stomach.

rafes lips are on yours again to swallow your moans as he angles his hips then pushes inside of you, cock feeling just right now that it's at home in your pussy.

“quiet.” rafe reminds you as he pulls away. sure, the likelihood of anyone walking down the hallway is incredibly rare, but he doesn't want to risk not being able to fuck you anymore.

rafe waits for you to nod before beginning to pump his hips forward, the only sounds being what escapes through your clenched lips and the sound of skin slapping together.

“so good and tight for me baby.” rafe whispers, burying his head in your neck. his lips quickly find the spot that he knows drives you wild, sucking a spot that will be hidden from view underneath your shirt collar, adding to his previous collection of hickeys left from past encounters.

“fff… faster.” you manage to say in a soft voice. 

rafe responds instantly, increasing his pace as you begin to bring your hips up and down, bouncing the best you can while still being hoisted in the air.

“that's it, baby.” rafe praises your effort. 

“god, your cock is just-” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust. “so perfect.”

“wait.” rafe pauses suddenly with his cock buried as deep inside of you as he can get it.

he presses his ear to the wood of the door, waiting and listening as footsteps make their way down the hallway. “shit.” rafe whispers.

“keep moving.” you whine in rafes ear. “please.”

“baby, shh.” rafe places a hand over your mouth, but you're not satisfied, hips pushing forward and back to force rafes cock to continue moving, needing to cum.

“you're gonna get us caught, dirty girl.” rafe whispers harshly in your ear, but he begins to help you bounce on his cock.

rafe listens carefully as the footsteps pass by the storage room and make their way out the rarely used back door.

“they're gone.” rafe says, slamming you hard against the door, hips pounding punishingly hard inside of you, cock swelling inside of you, a tell tale sign of his high approaching.

“harder.” you squeal. rafe isn't sure he can push himself any more, but he is willing to try for you, glad when your back arches forward, chest pressing into his as you cum with a not so quiet moan.

the pulsating squeezing of your cunt around his cock has rafe cumming hard, letting out low groans himself as he finishes off with a few pumps, riding out your orgasms together.

“fuck, you almost got us caught.” rafe laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips as he eases you off his cock carefully, hands staying on your hips until your feet are firmly on the floor.

“just can't resist you.” you giggle, grabbing your clothes and starting to get redressed. “i do hate all this sneaking around though.”

“you know…” rafe says, tugging his shirt over his head. “i say fuck it. let's just ask your dad if we can date. as much as i love fucking you after every shift, id like to also take you out and not just settle for texting you.”

“i guess it doesn't hurt to ask.” you shrug.

--

“dad…” you step into his office, rafe close behind you. “we wanted to talk to you about something.”

your dad stands up from behind his desk, his height imposing as his face twists to a sour one.

“and what would that be?” he looks past you at rafe.

“sir, i wanted to ask your permission to take your daughter out on a date. i will have her home by 10 pm.”

your dad's eyebrows raise up before he quickly wipes the surprised look off his face.

“fine.” he grunts out, eyes flickering between the two of you as you smile widely. “only because you're doing this the right way by asking me first.”

you attempt to disguise your laugh with a cough.

[pucksandpower]

No Nut November

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando made a bet with his friends to give No Nut November a try but, as his girlfriend, you have other plans

Warnings: 18+ content and Lando shaving his head

You can’t believe Lando is actually going through with this. When he first told you about his silly bet with the other Quadrant guys to see who can go the longest without “nutting” in November, you thought he was joking.

But no, he insists he has to see it through now.

You roll your eyes in exasperation, “Babe, this is ridiculous. You know I have needs too.”

Lando just laughs and pulls you into a hug. “It’s just a month, love. We’ll be fine.”

“A whole month though? I’ll explode!” You whine dramatically.

He kisses your forehead. “You can manage, I believe in you.”

The first week actually goes smoothly enough. You figure you can handle this if you really try. Maybe it will even be good for your relationship, taking a break from the physical stuff for a bit.

But soon the desire starts creeping up on you more and more. Laying in bed one night, you roll over and start kissing Lando’s neck. He makes a small noise of protest and scoots away. “Come on, Y/N, you know we can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “But Lando, I need you.” Your hands start to wander under the sheets.

He catches your wrist gently. “Nuh uh, that’s against the rules.”

“Screw the rules!” You cry in exasperation.

Lando just shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile. “Stay strong, love. Only three more weeks to go.”

As the days pass, you get more and more worked up. Everything Lando does seems to turn you on now — the way he bites his lip in concentration, the flex of muscles when he lifts weights, even just the sound of his laugh.

One day after his workout, you’re waiting when he gets out of the shower, wearing his favorite lingerie set.

His eyes widen at the sight, but he steels himself. “That’s not going to work but I appreciate the effort,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You let out a dramatic wail. “Lando, please, I’m losing my mind here!”

He just keeps teasingly shaking his head as you continue your onslaught of pleading and temptation. You try every trick and tactic you can think of but he refuses to give in.

As November drags on, you’re utterly frustrated. At this point, it’s become a game and you’re determined not to lose. There’s no way Lando can hold out for the whole month when you look this damn good!

One evening, you decide to pull out all the stops. As Lando’s cooking dinner, you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Standing on your tiptoes, you begin kissing his neck the way you know drives him crazy.

He tenses up immediately. “Y/N ...” he says warningly.

“Shhh ...” You whisper. “Just focus on cooking. I’ll stop if you really want me to.” Even as you say it, your hands drift lower, teasing along the waistband of his shorts.

Lando’s breath hitches but he keeps stirring the pasta valiantly. You continue with your ministrations, feathering kisses across his shoulders. When you nip his earlobe, he lets out a low groan.

“That’s it baby, you know you want this,” you purr. Your fingers dip below the elastic of his briefs to tease along his hip bones.

Lando curses under his breath, his resolve clearly weakening. You seize the opportunity to deepen the kisses, sucking at the sensitive spot on his neck. Your other hand trails up his chest, fingertips circling over his shirt.

“Y/N, please—” he gasps out. The pasta is now dangerously close to boiling over but neither of you care anymore.

Grinning in triumph, you spin Lando around and crash your lips to his in a searing kiss. He kisses you back feverishly, his hands coming up to cup your face as he walks you backward toward the bedroom.

***

Lando kicks the bedroom door shut behind you as his lips meet yours again hungrily. All thoughts of No Nut November are clearly out the window now.

Your hands fumble urgently with the hem of his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug it over his head. He returns the favor, peeling off your top and bra in one smooth motion.

Skin pressing against skin, you both groan at the contact you’ve been craving. Lando’s hands grip your hips, steering you toward the bed until the back of your legs hit the mattress. You let yourself fall backward, pulling him down on top of you.

Your lips find each other again as your hands explore eagerly. Lando kisses down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking in a way that makes you squirm against him.

“God I’ve missed this,” you breathe out as his fingers trail over your breast.

He hums in agreement, his touch lighting sparks across your skin. Your back arches off the bed as his mouth closes over your nipple.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you guide him lower, gasping when his lips reach the waistband of your leggings. He looks up at you questioningly and you nod eagerly.

In one smooth motion he tugs them off, followed swiftly by your underwear. You’re completely bare before him now and trembling in anticipation.

Lando’s eyes drink you in hungrily. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls before diving in.

You cry out as his tongue finds your clit, gripping the sheets tightly. He works you expertly, ramping up the pressure until you are writhing and moaning. Your orgasm builds fast and hard, his name tumbling from your lips.

“Yes, yes Lando! Don’t stop!” You pant out. Your climax crashes over you powerfully, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

Lando works you through it gently before moving back up to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you impossibly more turned on.

Reaching for his belt, you make quick work of the rest of his clothes. Taking him in your hand, you stroke him firmly as he groans into your mouth.

“Need you ... now,” you gasp out urgently.

Lando lines himself up at your entrance, his eyes questioning. You nod eagerly and he pushes inside you slowly. You both moan long and low at the feeling of him filling you up.

He sets a steady rhythm, rocking into you deeply. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. The coil in your core starts building again right away.

“Faster, Lando, please,” you beg. He obliges, snapping his hips quicker. You drag your nails down his back making him shudder.

The sound of skin slapping on skin and your mingled moans fill the room. You can tell Lando is getting close by the way he tenses and swells inside you.

Reaching down between you, he circles your clit rapidly. “Come on baby, come with me,” you urge him on. Your words send him over the edge with a choked groan.

His release triggers your second powerful orgasm, your walls contracting around him.

You cling to each other, riding out the aftershocks together. Lando collapses on top of you, nuzzling into your neck. You stroke his hair gently, holding him close.

“Guess you lost the bet,” you tease after a moment.

He chuckles against your skin. “So worth it.”

You tilt his chin up to kiss him softly, filled with love and contentment. Who cares about some silly internet challenge anyway? You and Lando have all you need right here.

***

The next morning, you wake up tangled in Lando’s arms, smiling at the memories of last night. Stretching contentedly, you roll over to face him.

“Good morning,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him.

He kisses you back softly. “Morning, love.”

You run your fingers through his curls. “I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated your hair more than I did last night,” you say with a grin.

Lando laughs but then his expression turns serious. “About that ... there’s something I should tell you about the bet.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Part of the deal was that the first one to fail No Nut November has to shave their head,” he admits.

“What? No!” You gasp, clutching protectively at his hair. “You are not shaving these beautiful curls, I forbid it!”

He sighs. “I don’t want to but I made a deal. The lads will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t follow through.”

You pout dramatically. “Can’t you just lie and say you succeeded? They never need to know!”

Lando shakes his head. “They’d see right through me. I’m rubbish at lying.”

“But your hair ...” you whine sadly.

“It will grow back,” he assures you, though he doesn’t look happy about it either.

You bite your lip, thinking hard. “What if you just don’t tell them we had sex? Then as far as they know, you’re still in the running and you don’t have to shave your head! Don’t think of it as lying … think of it as omitting the truth.”

He considers this. “I guess that could work as long as they don’t find out somehow.”

“Exactly! Our secret is safe with me,” you swear solemnly. Crisis averted!

Later that day when Lando hops on stream with the Quadrant guys, you make yourself scarce to avoid any accidental slip-ups.

Lando greets his friends cheerfully. “Alright mates, how’s everyone holding up?”

“Still going strong,” Max Fewtrell reports. “You?”

“Yep, all good here,” Lando lies smoothly.

You listen from the other room, praying they don’t notice anything amiss. But a few minutes later, you hear Max exclaim “Lando, what’s that on your neck?”

Lando sounds flustered. “What? Nothing!”

“That’s definitely a hickey! He’s got hickies all over!” Max crows. “You broke, didn’t you Norris?”

You gasp, realizing in horror that you must have left marks last night.

Lando tries to deny it but eventually crumbles under their interrogation. “Alright fine, I gave in. But don’t tell Y/N that I told you!”

Raucous laughter ensues, followed by teasing demands that he shave his head immediately.

You rush in frantically. “No, stop! It was my fault, I seduced him!” You blurt out.

More laughter. “Wow mate, she’s really got you wrapped around her finger!”

Lando rubs his neck ruefully. “Yeah, couldn’t resist her even with the bet.” He winks at you.

You bite your lip guiltily. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

He just smiles and pulls you into his lap. “I’d lose every bet in the world for you.”

Ignoring his cheering friends, he kisses you tenderly. You sigh happily, running your fingers through his curls one last time.

If this bet means sacrificing his lovely locks, you’re definitely making up for it tonight.

***

Despite your pleas and protests, Lando is determined to go through with the bet.

“I gave my word, love. Gotta shave it off,” he says, giving you an apologetic look.

You pout sadly. “I can’t believe I’m losing your beautiful curls because of my lack of self-control.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him. “Hey, no blaming yourself. I’m the idiot who made the bet in the first place.”

Lando retrieves his electric razor while you perch on the bathroom counter’s edge, watching mournfully. Taking a deep breath, he turns it on and brings it to his head.

You gasp as the first patch of hair falls away. “No, wait!” You cry, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Your lower lip quivers. “I can’t watch this. It’s too traumatic!”

Lando laughs and wraps you in a hug. “Oh darling, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

You cling to him dramatically. “But I love your hair so much!” Running your hands through his soft curls one last time, you sigh. “At least let me help, so I can savor every last strand.”

He smiles and hands you the razor. With a heavy heart, you get to work shaving off his glorious locks. You go slowly, offering up little eulogies along the way.

“Goodbye right sideburn, you always looked so sharp.”

“Farewell beautiful crown curls, so bouncy and free!”

Lando tries not to laugh at your antics. “It’s not dying, love, it’s just hair.”

“Shush, let me mourn in peace,” you sniffle.

As the last section of hair falls away, you set down the razor with a forlorn sigh. Lando runs his hand over his newly bare head and checks himself in the mirror.

“Well, what do you think?” He asks.

You bite your lip, holding back a groan. He looks so ... bald.

Lando frowns at your expression. “That bad, huh?”

“No, no!” You assure him. “Just different. I’ll get used to it.” You manage a weak smile.

He grins and pulls you close. “Don’t worry, I’m still the same Lando underneath.” To demonstrate, he begins trailing kisses down your neck.

You shudder involuntarily. “But ... what will I hold onto now when you’re going down on me?” You ask with distress.

Lando barks out a laugh. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he promises, nipping at your earlobe.

Despite your mood, you can’t help but melt under his touch. You supposed you could get used to your bald Lando, though you already miss tugging on those luscious curls.

Later that night, Lando makes good on his promise to prove he can still drive you wild, hair or no hair. And as you lay tangled up afterward, blissfully sated, you have to admit — he still has some serious skills.

Running your hand over his stubbly head, you grin mischievously. “Well done, Mr. Worldwide.”

He gives you a confused look. “What?”

“You know, like Pitbull!” You laugh. “The bald head reminds me of him. I’ll have to come up with more bald nicknames now.”

Lando groans playfully. “What have I gotten myself into?” But he’s smiling as he pulls you in for another deep kiss.

***

It’s the morning of the Las Vegas Grand Prix and you’re with Lando in the paddock for his pre-race interviews. He’s got a cap pulled down over his head but it’s not enough to stop the questions.

“Lando, you’re looking a bit different today,” the reporter remarks with a wry smile. “What’s with the new hairstyle?”

Lando tugs the cap lower, laughing awkwardly. “Oh you know, just felt like a change.”

“A pretty drastic change though, no? Don’t think we’ve ever seen you with a shaved head before.” The reporter presses further.

“Ah, well ...” Lando trails off, glancing at you sheepishly. You give him an encouraging nod, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Let’s just say I lost a bet and leave it at that,” Lando finally mutters.

The reporter looks like he wants to inquire further but Lando steers the conversation to the race ahead. You let out a relieved breath, glad the subject seems to have been dropped.

But after the interview, a boisterous voice rings out behind you. “Oi, Lando! Heard you lost No Nut November!”

You and Lando whirl around to see Daniel Ricciardo sauntering over, his eyes glinting with mirth.

Lando groans. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdie named Max Verstappen who heard from Alex who heard from George,” Daniel chuckles. “So come on, give us the details! Was it the work of this lovely lady here?” He winks at you exaggeratedly.

You know your face must be scarlet now. Lando just stammers helplessly, which makes Daniel laugh harder.

“No need to be shy! Happens to all of us.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Though gotta say mate, I’m impressed you even made it close to halfway. If I had a girl like that waiting at home? Wouldn’t last a week!”

“Daniel!” Lando blurts out but he’s fighting back laughter now too. You bury your face in Lando’s shoulder, torn between embarrassment and amusement.

“In fact ...” Daniel taps his chin thoughtfully. “Reckon you deserve a prize for making it through 14 days. Most blokes wouldn’t make it past five! Here ...”

He reaches up and plops his AlphaTauri cap onto Lando’s head. “A trophy for your noble efforts!”

Lando swats him away, snickering. “Piss off, mate.”

“Just spreading the love!” Daniel calls over his shoulder as he saunters off. “And remember — November is for nutting, not for nothing!”

Lando shakes his head, still chuckling. “Unbelievable. Remind me why I’m friends with him again?”

You finally lift your flushed face from his shoulder. “Because he’s ridiculous in the best way and makes everything fun?” You offer with a giggle.

“Too right, love.” Lando smiles and pulls you into a quick kiss. “Now wish me luck today, yeah? I’m off to claim my real trophy!”

You smoothe down his new AlphaTauri cap and kiss him again for extra luck. Even through your lingering embarrassment, Daniel’s antics have lifted the mood. And Lando does look pretty darn cute in that cap. Time to go get that podium!

***

By some miracle, Lando takes the chequered flag in Vegas, earning his first ever Formula 1 race win.

The team is ecstatic, mobbing him in the pits and spraying champagne everywhere. You’re jumping up and down, screaming yourself hoarse.

As he pulls into parc fermé, Lando yanks off his helmet and balaclava, his shiny bald head gleaming with sweat. Fisting the air triumphantly, he looks like the happiest man alive.

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a blur of joyful chaos. Lando can’t stop beaming, gazing at the trophy in his hands like he can’t believe it’s real.

Finally you get him alone in his driver’s room, immediately jumping into his arms and kissing him fiercely. “You did it!” You shout gleefully.

Lando laughs, spinning you around. “I actually did it! This is the best day ever!”

You cup his face in your hands. “I’m so proud of you.” Kissing him again, you murmur, “Now it’s time for us to celebrate properly.”

A grin spreads across Lando’s face. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

In response, you lead him toward the couch, peeling off his race suit and fireproofs along the way. You push him down on the leather, straddling his waist and capturing his lips hungrily.

Lando responds eagerly, his hands roaming your body. As you move together, his touches feel extra electrifying in the wake of his triumph.

Afterward, you lay wrapped in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow. Lando presses soft kisses to your hair. “You were right, this is the perfect way to celebrate.”

You laugh, snuggling closer. “Mmhmm, I’m full of good ideas.”

He runs a hand over his head contemplatively. “You know, I think this new aerodynamic look might actually be my good luck charm. Maybe I should keep it?”

You bolt upright, glaring down at him in horror. “Don’t you dare! This is a temporary tragedy we must endure but the curls will return.”

Lando chuckles at your reaction. “Relax, love. I’m only joking.” He tugs you back down, nuzzling your neck. “Trust me, I miss my hair as much as you do. The second November ends, the curls are coming back.”

“Good,” you huff. “Bald is a very sexy look on some people but on you it’s just ... wrong.” You place a hand on his cheek. “I miss running my fingers through those soft locks. Your hair has always been one of my favorite things about you.”

Lando smiles up at you tenderly. “Don’t worry, I promise you’ll have your handsy little mitts full of my curls again before you know it.”

“I better,” you threaten playfully. “And you’ll look as dashing as ever.”

You kiss him again, conveying all the pride and affection overflowing from your heart. No matter what hairstyle he’s rocking, Lando is your champion. Though you can’t wait to see those luscious honey-brown curls again.

[paranoiddreams]

Hi, I don’t know if you’re accepting requests, but you could write something about JK where his girlfriend is accompanying them on tour and he keeps sneaking away without the managers and boys coming to sleep with her or take her to his bunk bed on the tour bus or to his hotel room... smuttt pls

OH MAMI✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

✧ idol!Jungkook x gn!reader

✧ WC!! - 1.42k

✧ Warnings!! - unprotected sex, jk is kinda mean!!!, he hitting it from the back😜, voyeurism(?), they almost get caught, or do they…, explicit language, idky but there’s smth going on with Yoongi, degradation, use of ‘slut’ once,

✧ A/n!! - I really hope you enjoy this, I hope it’s what you wanted! I love this request, and had so much fun writing it😻 The title is the song I thought fit this vibe ig, so if you want to check it out it’s by Chase Atlantic. Hope you all enjoy!! <3

“J-Jungkook, they’re right outside!”

Your sweet, caring, often naive, boyfriend Jungkook currently has you bent over the small, flimsy table in the tour bus he and the rest of the band are traveling the world in. 

When he invited you to come with him on tour, you immediately said yes, because all of the times he was gone in the past felt like whole life times; It’s no secret you and Jungkook are inseparable. So, this year being a more laid back one, management decided it was okay for you to come this time. Although that decision in hindsight might not have been the best one to make. 

Jimin and Taehyung can’t count the amount of times he thought he was talking to Jungkook walking behind him, only to turn around and see him glued to his phone, texting you about where to meet in the next few minutes. Namjoon swears he’s going to damage his voice from how much he’s been scolding the youngest for disappearing suddenly and coming back 20 minutes later with flushed cheeks and ruffled hair. Most of all, the whole band, including the staff, are annoyed by the obvious trips you and Jungkook take to the nearest utility closet at any hotel room before every concert. 

But they’re not the only one’s slightly annoyed. You’ve told your insatiable boyfriend many times that he needs to control himself, but of course, he’s as stubborn as a dog. But then again, even if you’re vehemently opposed to his ‘adventurous’ rendezvous, you still always end up in this position. 

Currently, you’re bent over the flimsy table of the tour bus, and Jungkook ramming his cock into you from behind while everyone is out stretching their legs; something you can’t help but be hyperaware of. 

“J-Jungkook, they’re right outside!”

Your sweet, caring, often naive, boyfriend Jungkook is no where to be seen. When you look over your shoulder, you see his face contorted in blinding euphoria, his brows furrowed as he lets out low grunts of pleasure. He seems to not notice everyone right outside of the curtain-covered window he’s fucking you in front of, and if he does, he doesn’t pay any mind at all. You can barely hear a few voices underneath the sound of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, making every little sound you or Jungkook let out seem 10x louder.

“W-We need to be quiet!” You stammer out in a hushed tone. 

Although your mind is only occupied with trying not to get caught, your body is completely under the control of Jungkook’s rough thrusts. You’re clenching around him, dripping down your thighs  and his cock to the carpeted floor of the tour bus while his fingers dig into the pliant skin of your hips. 

“Yeah?” He growls condescendingly. “Better be quiet then, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart hammering in your ears as his growled words send shivers down your spine. You slam your palms down onto the table you’re bent over, your fingers turning white as you hold on for dear life from the pleasure ripping through your body. 

“J-Jungkook! Please, you’re g-going too fast!” You manage to cry out through breathless pants. But your boyfriend only laughs in return, his warm breath hitting your shoulder. 

He lifts his hands from your hips, his pelvis pressing against your ass as he slides himself all the way into you, staying there as he reaches around to grab both of your wrists. He holds them behind your back with one hand, using the other to cover your mouth. His chin rests on your shoulder as he turns his head to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. 

“I told you to be quiet,” he says in a low chiding tone, “do you want the others to walk in on us? To know how much of a fucking slut you are when they leave?”

A guttural, almost animalistic mewl leaves your lips, muffled by his palm, as he speaks into your ear. You feel him continue his brutal pace, slow but hard as he rams into your sore entrance. The thought of his words, to your surprise, send a rush of arousing embarrassment through your body, your thighs clenching together as you’re barely able to hold yourself up anymore. 

Noticing this, Jungkook pulls out of you suddenly with a low hiss, uncovering your mouth and releasing your hands to grab your waist and flip you around. You barely even have time to gasp out his name before he’s lifting you up onto the table, pushing your thighs apart roughly. 

“N-No! Don’t—!“ you start to protest, but cut yourself off with a strangled moan when he slams his leaking cock back inside of you, his hands hooked under your thighs to push them apart further. 

“Look at you, making such a mess,” he whispers, looking into your eyes with an almost unrecognizable lust. Your eyes flicker down, catching a glimpse of his glistening cock pushing in and out of you, your combined fluid dripping onto the table beneath you. Your face flushes with heat, and you feel your second—maybe third?—orgasm starting to wash over you. 

“Oh, fuck yes, baby,” he pants out, his dominant tone turning more desperate as he chases his own oncoming high, “god, you’re so tight when you cum around my cock…”

Your thighs shake as he holds them open, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and untimed as you pulsate and gush around him. As your euphoric high clouds your mind, and your judgment, you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him deep inside of you. Then you feel his warm cum spill into you. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he whines when he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. His hips rock softly into you a few more times as you suck him in and milk him completely. When he’s done, he goes slightly limp as he catches his breath, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. 

“You let me cum inside…” he whispers after a few moments, still a little delirious from his climax. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, realizing what you did as the fog of lust clears in your mind, “I did…but only so we won’t have too much to clean up.”

Jungkook laughs adorably, as if he weren’t covered in your cum, his softening dick still buried deep inside of you. “Oh really? You made quite the mess too—“

Both you and Jungkook stop suddenly when the door to the tour bus jiggles, your eyes going wide. 

In a moment of panic, Jungkook pulls himself out of you, tugging his jeans back on from around his ankles as you hop down to the ground to find your shorts. By the time you do find them under the table, the door opens, and Yoongi walks in. 

“Yah—where’s y/n/n?” He asks in his usual grumpy tone, holding a bag of snacks from the gas station in his hands. 

Jungkook flinches, determined to keep his eyes on Yoongi’s and not under the table where you’re trying to shimmy on your shorts as quietly as possible. 

“Oh! Uh, she’s—uhm, she’s in the bathroom,” he stammers out, practically jumping to stand in front of the table, leaning against it to hide the obvious mess while he keeps his eyes on Yoongi. 

After buttoning your shorts you freeze under the table, looking between Jungkook’s legs at Yoongi in front of him, the tour bus deadly silent. 

“Okay,” he finally says after a few moments, “well when she comes back tell her I got those chips she likes.”

Jungkook nods with a painfully forced smile, holding a thumbs up for emphasis as he watches Yoongi walk towards the back of the tour bus. “Yup! I will!” He says, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Once Yoongi is out of sight, Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief and squats down to look at you under the table. 

“Are you okay?!” He asks with those big doe eyes you can never seem to stay mad at. 

“Yeah, but now these shorts are ruined,” you grumble as you crawl out from under the table, cringing at the feeling of your and Jungkook’s combined cum sticking to your thighs. 

Once you stand, Jungkook lets out an incredulous giggle, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you against his chest. You stand there for a moment, basking in his warmth, until you both jump at the sound of Yoongi calling out from the back of the bus:

“Make sure to clean up the mess you both left!”

Seems like you’ll both need to work on your sneaking-around skills more.

Thank you to the lovely @kloserpeenguintiljk for requesting! I hope you enjoyed <3

[rainydayathogwarts]

Just the tip - Ex!Peter Parker

summary: just the tip with ex!peter parker cw: SMUT, kind of pushy/manipulative peter but everything is consensual. wc: 2k

When Peter fell through the open window of your bedroom, you had let out a loud gasp, spinning around in your desk chair, only clad in your exposing pyjamas. At the sight of your ex boyfriend, you put your hands on your hips, instantly abandoning the homework laid out on your desk. Standing up, you walked towards the hopeful boy, watching as he approached you, a pleading look in his eyes. “So we’re normalising breaking into our ex’s apartments now?” Peter opened his mouth, putting both hands on your hips desperately. “Peter just because you’re spider-man-” “Please.” Peter whispered, his eyes tearing up slightly. “I miss you.” He said, making you drop your hands flatly by your sides. One of your hands came up to cup Peter’s face, thumb caressing his cheek softly. Peter leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes as he savoured the moment.

You looked at Peter with concern; this wasn’t the first time he had come back to you, longing to be held. Things had always escalated to more despite telling yourself that you wouldn’t allow it to happen again. “Can you hold me, please?” Peter asked, ducking his head down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck. Obediently, you snaked the hand on Peter’s face around his neck and over his shoulder, the other one wrapping around his torso. Peter sighed, his own arms enveloping around the curve of your waist. You held him for a moment, inhaling his familiar scent as you gently stroked his back. From where Peter’s head is pressed up in the pocket of your neck, he slowly presses a soft kiss to your skin. You took in a sharp breath, jumping slightly at the sudden movement. Peter kissed your neck again, but you didn’t have the heart to pull away from him. “We can’t keep doing this Pete.” You mumbled instead, a hand finding its way in Peter’s soft locks. “Just this once. It’ll be the last time I promise.” You vividly recall him uttering similar words to you last time.

Sighing, you stepped away from Peter, unravelling your arms from around him. As though he knew what you were thinking, Peter added “Baby, please.” You let your head drop to the side, crossing your arms over your chest in an unconvinced manner. “Peter, we broke up. Exes don’t keep going back to each other like this.” At your words, Peter dropped to his knees in front of you, both hands landing on your thighs, softly grasping them. He looked up at you with his signature begging, puppy eyes, leaning his chin on your exposed abdomen. “You broke up with me. I’d never leave you. Just one night. Let me spend one night with you.” You uncrossed your arms from your chest, returning your hand to Peter’s hair, softly scratching at his skull. Peter never broke eye contact with you, leaning just slightly forward to press a kiss on your bare stomach. You tugged your short tank top down, hoping to stop the tickle from Peter’s kisses, until you finally gave in, telling the boy to stand up.

Peter followed you to your bed, chanting quietly “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You tossed the covers off the corner of your bed for you to climb in, patting the empty space next to you for Peter to join you. He immediately climbed in next to you, allowing you to cover him up with the soft blanket before cuddling into you. You turned on your side, facing Peter and watching as he pressed his face directly against your breasts, both hands coming to your hips to pull you closer to him before his arm settled over your waist. Sighing melancholically, you threw a leg over one of Peter’s, tangling your body with his as you leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his forehead. Peter laid still as you played with his hair and kissed along with hairline, treasuring the intimate moment. It had been so long since he had felt loved like this. In fact, the last time he felt cared for was the previous time he had been in your arms, despite your complaints about these reoccurring meetings.

Finally taking his opportunity, Peter shuffled upwards on the bed so that he was face to face with you, nose nudging against yours. With Peter’s intentions clear, you had enough time to pull away if you wanted to, but you felt bad, or at least that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t want consider that the way Peter’s eyes flickered down to your lips made you feel engrossed in him, or that his lips also looked soft. You didn’t want to consider the fact that maybe Peter wanting you so badly drew you closer to him. But he was your ex, and the furthest you would go is a kiss. So when Peter leaned ever so closer to you to press his lips against yours, you didn’t pull away, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Peter’s lips moulded against yours, his lips separating slightly so his tongue could shoot out to lips your bottom lip, a silent request for access into your mouth. When your mouth dipped open, allowing Peter’s tongue to press against yours, his hand came up, cupping your jaw to pull you closer to him. Peter pushed himself up on one of his forearms, using the height over you to press you deeper into the mattress as he deepened the kiss, his tongue licking deeper into your mouth. You gasped, pushing Peter away by his chest as you panted in attempt to catch your breath. Peter’s mouth latched onto your neck, immediately suckling at the sensitive skin as he moved his weight over you. Peter held the leg you had on top of his to pull it over his waist, testing your limits as he experimentally thrusted his hips between your spread legs. You immediately gasped, pushing Peter’s mouth off your neck and sitting up straight. Peter fell on the bed next to you, a guilty look on his features. “I thought-” “Peter, exes don’t have sex. If we have sex, we’re official again.” Peter furrowed his eyebrows at your words, the same sentence echoing in his mind over and over again. But I want us to be official again.

“Let me put the tip in. Just the tip.” You looked unconvinced, leaning over to take a sip of water from your bedside table. Peter scanned your legs, your cotton shorts riding up with each movement you did. When you sat up straight again, you readjusted the straps of your tank top and crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly aware of the way your nipples were constraining against the fabric of your top. “Just the tip isn’t sex.” Peter pushed, adding a pleading “Please.” “You’re really going to get off on just putting the tip in?” You questioned, eyeing Peter down. He felt himself harden when your gaze landed on his covered cock. “Just want to feel warm.” He weakly argued.

You rolled your eyes, reaching your hand out to grasp the cotton of Peter’s t-shirt, roughly pulling him towards you so you could slam your lips against his. Peter moaned, softly holding your face, but you broke the kiss as quickly as you started it. Peter froze, awaiting further instruction from you. “Just the tip.” You warned, laying back on your bed. Peter instantly jumped up, as though he had to act before you changed your mind. He tripped over his trousers twice before finally tossing them somewhere in our room, and his boxers went next, carefully watching the way your eyes widened slightly in reminiscence. Peter climbed over you, his knees on either side of your legs as he hooked his fingers through both your shorts and panties. He slowly tugged them down your smooth legs, leaning down to press a single kiss on your mound. Peter climbed off you, manhandling your body to lay on your side and settling himself flush against your back. You gasped, feeling Peter’s hard cock poking against your hip. Peter wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you back to stay put against him while his second hand guided his cock towards your entrance.

Peter’s dick nudged your tight hole and you shut your eyes tightly, listening to the immediate moan that ripped from Peter’s chest. You cursed, seriously considering to tell Peter to push all the way in as you felt his swollen tip dip into your entrance. Peter whined, pulling his dick out of you and you sighed disappointedly. Peter bit his lip so hard it almost bled, his thighs shaking in attempt not to push himself all the way in. He needed to abide by your rules if you were going to let this happen again. “Just the tip.” You mumbled absentmindedly, drool gathering in your mouth as you pushed your ass out for Peter to put it back in. Peter panted, trying to control himself as he put the tip back in your entrance, rocking slowly back and forth. “Just the tip.” Peter repeated, but quickly found himself losing control over his actions, and suddenly, he had half his dick inside you.

The both of you moaned in unison, and Peter brought a hand to the arch of your back, caressing your skin. He needed to take a moment or else he'd instantly be coming inside you. You reached a hand behind you, landing halfway on Peter’s cheek. Peter kissed your hand, pushing himself up to press kisses on your cheek and jaw. You whined in pleasure, rolling your hips back to take as much of Peter’s dick as possible. “Fuck, just put it in baby!” You cried, finally letting your put-together front crumble down. Peter chanted a string of ‘thank you’s, finally snapping his hips all the way in so his cock fully sheathed himself in your folds. Wrapping an arm over your hips, Peter shifted his weight to switch your positions, landing you laying on your stomach with him on top of you.

Whining, you pushed yourself on your knees, chest touching the mattress as Peter kneeled, gripping both your hips tightly before setting an unforgiving pace on your cunt. Your moans immediately increased, small sounds escaping you with each push of Peter’s cock closer to your cervix. Peter relentlessly whimpered, feeling his orgasm building up quickly, but he needed to make you cum. He needed to make you cum or you’d never let him fuck you ever again. Desperately, Peter snaked his fingers around your body, concentrating hard on finding your clit while keeping up the pace and brutality of his thrusts. You whined impatiently, your own hand finding Peter’s to guide him to your clit. When his fingers finally made contact with your clit, your toes were immediately curling, a high pitched moan escaping you. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, feeling your pussy clench around his dick. “Come on baby, cum for me.” He begged, rubbing harsh circles on your clit as his thrusts became sloppy. You couldn’t help your bodily reaction to how pathetic Peter sounded, your cunt clamping on his dick as you came, causing a string of curse words to leave Peter’s mouth as his own orgasm was triggered. “Shit, shit, shit.” He mumbled, whimpering softly as he emptied his loud into you, your sounds of ecstasy ringing in his ears.

Peter softly rocked his hips into yours, hoping to ride out your orgasm, but you whined at the overstimulation, and Peter knew it was time to pull out. You immediately slumped against the bed when Peter pulled out with a groan, sitting next to you to rub a hand over your back. You turned onto your back, looking up at Peter tiredly, and gesturing for him to get closer to you. With a hand on his jaw, you pulled him into another kiss, engrossed in the fact that this would be the last time you two had sex. “Last time Peter. Yeah?” Peter nodded, mumbling “I’m happy with that, yeah.”

But his words sounded so familiar you refused to believe them.

[rafesslxt]

neglected | mattheo riddle

summary: Theodore completly ignores you and doesnt take it serious that you miss him while he flirts with another girl at a party.. so his best friend has to help you filling up that hole inside your … chest.

warning: cheating? but is it if he does it first?, mattheo eating out the reader, fingering, nipple play, teasing, dirty talk, getting caught, he‘s a munch don‘t fight with me over this -

note: i do not support cheating, this is just for the story

— monday —

I don‘t know how many times I already begged but from time to time.. i felt more and more neglected.

"Theo, please just this one weekend! You had been busy with your friends and studying the last 3 weeks!" Yeah, 3 weeks since my boyfriend went on a date with me, had some quality time or touched me.

"Y/n I told you I don‘t have time. I already promised the boys I‘d come to the party. We‘ll see us there, I have to go study now, with Lydia." Before I could even say a word he left his dorm. I hear a chuckle coming from the other side of the room, making me turn my head in it’s direction.

"Told you you deserve better baby." Mattheo, Theodore‘s best friend said, sitting on his bed. They share a dorm and every now and then he would see Theo and me arguing.

I huff and leave the room, a aching feeling in my body.

— the next day —

"Theo please, I need you. You didn‘t touch me once the last few weeks." I whine into his ear, sitting next to him. He just groans, but not the way I want him to and gets up with his book in his hands. "Don‘t you see that you‘re distracting me?" Irritated he leaves the room, probably walking off to the library again.

Ugh.. i let myself fall back down onto the mattress and cross my arms over my face. Is it my fault? Did my body change somehow? Why the hell won‘t he touch me? But before I could continue my thoughts, I hear the door again, my head shooting up, hoping it is Theo who changed his mind but no, it‘s Mattheo. I groan frustrated and let my head fall back.

"Wow nice to see you too baby, but I think you‘re laying on the wrong bed." he says, teasing me.

"Sometimes I think like that too." I mumble into my arms and more to myself.

"What was that?" he asks. "Nothing."

— two days later —

Patiently I wait on Theo‘s bed, dressed all up.. or down, in his favorite lingerie set and a pair of black knee socks. When we got together half a year ago he told me he loved them on me, made my legs look even longer.

As the door opens my heart starts beating faster and I look up, shrieking and pulling the blanket over my body as I see who it is. "Damn mami is that for me?" Mattheo asks as he stand in front of Theo‘s bed with a smirk on his face, his mouth wide open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked furious, not wanting him to see me like that. What If Theo comes in and would see us, what would he think?

"Last time I checked this is my room, sweetcheeks." "But you‘re supposed to have quidditch practice!" I whine and look for my clothes.

He chuckles and steps a bit closer as I stand up from the bed. "Could you turn around? I wanna get dressed." "No." "You are such a pain in the ass!" I roll my eyes at him and take my wand, mumbling "Colloportus“. and holding it towards the door so no one can come inside.

I let go of the blanket, thinking fuck it, and grab my skirt, pulling it over my legs and then my hips. "Did your cute little boyfriend leave you unsatisfied again?" he grins and takes a step closer. "You know.. I could help you with that." he says in a suggestive tone. "He’s your best friend Mattheo, stop this shit." "I can’t princess. Hurts me to see that pretty little body of yours, knowing how desperate it must be after all these weeks." he whispers the last part as he lets his fingers slowly brush over my arm, sending shivers down my spine. "See? It’s so hot for just a little attention." "No, it is cold, thats why." I say, swallowing down the clump in my throat as i nod towards the opened window.

Just as I wanted to reach down for my top, I see Mattheo getting down on his knees in front of me. He looks up and licks his lips. Damn.. something about a men on his knees for me made me feel slme type of way.

"Please let me touch your legs, please. Need to know how soft these pretty thighs feel." I could feel his warm breath against my skin, again, sending shivers down my… spine. wet pussy

"Mattheo get the fuck up I swear to god!" i hiss at him. Yes I closed the door with a spell but it wasn‘t really hard for everyone above first years to open it with a spell.

"Please, I swear If you let me just touch it I‘m gonna leave you alone for the rest of the week!" he pleads, looking at my face and then my legs. I sigh as I think about letting him. Damn was I really thinking about it? Am I really going to let my boyfriends best friend touch my thighs?

But I mean.. nothing’s wrong If I don‘t feel anything for it, right? Plus he would just leave me alone for a bit. "Fine." I press out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel his big warm hands on my thighs. "Shit.." he mumbles as he lets them wander up and down my legs. He slighty squeezes them, making me sigh in relief.

I feel his curls against my skin before I can look down and see him kissing my flesh, grabbing it with a bit more strengh now. I had to bite my bottom lip as he starts massaging them. Completly lost in thoughts, I realize too late what he was doing.

Suddenly he stands up and kisses my cheek "Thank you, doll.", before leaving the dorm and leaving me breathless in the middle of the room. As I slowly come back from the dizzy feeling inside my head I again, stretch over to get my top but gasp with shaky breathing as I see what Mattheo left on my skin.

A hickey. And a bite mark. I didn‘t even notice him biting my leg. Shit.

— Saturday —

To say i was pissed, while sitting on a chair in some corner of the common room, was a big understatement. Theodore and I arrived at the party he talked about a few days ago.. 2hours ago. I saw him drinking with his friends and playing truth or dare in a little group, always walking away from me as soon as I approached him. So I decided to stop chasing him.

"What are you doing here all alone sweetcheeks?" I look to my right and see Mattheo. Of course it was him. "Leave me alone." I say, rolling my eyes and looking back to my boyfriend, sitting beside this girl named Lydia. She was a year under us I think.

Mattheo followed my gaze and shakes his head. "Well , the deal was I would leave you alone till end of the week. The week is over." I don‘t even answer him, not in the mood to argue.

"Yeah thanks for the hickey and the mark between." i say sarcastically. "Yeah it‘s not like your boyfriend would see, right?"

I roll my eyes again and look back at Theodore, to see him standing up. What was he going to do? Suddenly I see him taking Lydia‘s hand, pulling her up with him and kissing her. In shock I opened my mouth, but instead of crying like i normally would, my face got red in anger.

I tried everything and here he stands sucking of the face of that stupid thot. In the middle of the common room? With the girl he "studys" all the time? I bet that’s not the first time they kiss. Mattheo seems to see it too and looks at me more serious now. "Hey.. are you okay? I mean he‘s not worth it If you - " but before he can continue I grab him at the collor of his shirt and drag him with me to his dorm.

— 30 minutes later —

"Oh fuck yes, Mattheo!" I moan into the air, pushing his head against me while his lips suck on my clit, his fingers pumping inside me. "Shit who would have known that you go this feral for my tounge huh?" he smiles and mumbles against my skin.

"Stop talking and continue!" I whine and push his head back. I hear him chuckle before he laps at my throbbing clit again. God If I would have known how good this feels I would have had ended things with Theo way sooner.

His free hand slides across my body up to my left boob where he started to tease my nipple. I gasp and push my hips up, arching my back. My body was so sensitive I wanted to cry out of pleasure everytime he touched me somewhere.

It didn‘t took me long before my body starts trembling and shaking, Mattheo licking everything up as I come on his tounge.

"I could get drunk on your pussy." he groans before kissing me, making me taste myself on his lips.

"I hope you‘re ready cause that pussy screams for me." he whispers against my lips before going down on me again.

A few minutes in I hear someone yell. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

My head shot up and I looked to the door where Theo stood, looking ag us with an angry face.

I saw Mattheo looking at him over his shoulder, smiling at him with glistening lips. "Hey men, hope you don‘t mind? We got the impression you were busy.. never mind – bro how could you not eat that pussy like.. all day?"

"I‘m gonna kill you, Riddle!"

shorter than usual but I liked it 🌼

thanks for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

[sanguineterrain]

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked."