#I didn't knew that it wasn't this I really did thought it was something else because of how things usually are

[cheyisagirlkisser]

a concept : abby's first time with a woman. maybe her first partnered orgasm too cause we all know owen ain't shit lol.

i'm so in love with this request. @powderpinkandsweeet did this concept too and it was delicious please go read hers here!!

warnings: owen.. fingering (a! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), afab / fem reader, body worship because Abby deserves it.

a/n: I wrote Abby to be mostly bisexual in this fic, but you can interpret her feelings for men as possibly comphet or something similar. Either way, it's clear she discovers her preference for women.

Sex means a variety of things to people. In Abby's life, sex with men was mostly about love. She did feel attraction to men and she had relationships with them, last one being her ex-boyfriend Owen. It was never about the pleasure itself. Sure, there were moments when she felt physically nice during sex, but it didn't last. She was only halfway there by the time Owen was coming down from his orgasm. He didn't offer to finish her off, and aftercare was the sound of his breathless laughter accompanied by a "thanks, babe."

Abby didn't ever judge her friends who liked to have sex for less emotional reasons. At least, she didn't think there was much emotion behind it. Abby just knew more about sex within relationships. The fact that men were incapable of actually making her cum was overshadowed by feelings. Things changed when she caught a glimpse of Mel's contact in Owen's phone, though. Things changed for the better.

You were much different than Owen in ways that Abby could not grapple with. First of all, you weren't a man. Abby never really considered women as an option for her (though she had lingering thoughts about what it would be like to be with one), but seeing you at a small party, you being a friend of a friend, she wasn't exactly opposed to the idea of being involved with one.

Conversations led to observations. Whereas Owen was condescendingly sarcastic, you liked to be gentle with Abby. You never said a joke that made Abby feel bad about being a stronger woman; in fact, you told her you liked her physique. You asked about her workout routine, and you made her feel feminine. That was simply something Owen could not do. Owen was also a blind optimist. He turned away from issues in the pursuit of "ignorance is bliss." With you, it felt like you articulated your views in a way that made her question her own, even. You were clearly a thoughtful person, and you took time to educate yourself about human rights, something that should be the bare minimum but clearly Owen lacked education on. Abby could never talk to him about topics like feminist issues like she was able to with you. And lastly, a more physical observation, you made her realize that actually feeling pleasure during sex can make the sex 100 times more emotional.

You took her home with you the night you met. Abby told you about the break-up and how she was still processing it, and you didn't expect anything more from her than what she was comfortable giving. But fuck, the sex made her feel things. How was she ever supposed to feel this way with anyone else?

You had her laid on your bed, and you only kissed her for a little while. Even your kisses were like sugar, and Abby wanted so much more. Every moment of contact your lips made with hers reminded her of an artist's brushstroke onto a canvas, painting over it a masterpiece that simply cannot be undone.

Your fingers traced over her sides, heightening the pants she spills from her lips, and increasing a neediness deep within her that feels like pressure building up in a small space, needing to be let go. She was a little worried that you'd get her all worked up and not make her cum.

You noticed the way she retracted ever so slightly, and cupped her face. "Hey, what's wrong?" You asked so softly, patiently.

Abby swallowed, struggling to articulate her own feelings. She wasn't used to even speaking during sex. It never lasted long enough for her to be able to.

"We can stop if you want to." You offer, giving her a reassuring smile. Your thumb caressed her cheek, and it gave both a red warmth.

"No, it's not that-" she sighed, almost feeling annoyed with herself for making things awkward, "I just got really worked up, I guess. I've never..done this with another woman before, and men are probably different."

You nodded knowingly. "Do you want me to take care of you?"

Abby didn't know exactly what that entailed, but something in her had a pre-established trust for you, just knew that you'd stop if she needed you to. It made her want you even more.

After both of you had enough touchy-feely, Abby helped you pull her shirt and sports bra off. You admired each freckle-plastered inch of her body, from the peak of her nipples to her firm biceps. You took your time with her, and she loved it.

You used your hands first, your soft skin meeting hers. You trailed fingers over her arms, squeezing. Abby let out a soft sigh, and you took that as encouragement to lean in and plant adoration-filled kisses onto the muscle. "You're so pretty." The words were slightly muffled with your mouth on her skin, but she surely heard. It made her pulse beat faster.

You simply touched her for a while, at first warming her up and kissing her skin, mouth becoming steadily more explicit. When your mouth gently latched onto one of Abby's nipples, she couldn't keep herself from making a needy sound. Your tongue swirled over the pink bud, and Abby melted back into the bed.

Not longer after, you weren't surprised to find a pair of soaked panties worn by yours truly. Abby was laid out on your bed, legs parted for you. She was a little embarrassed that you had her so needy before even touching her.

"Fuck," is all she could manage when she felt a warm finger spread her folds open, sliding up to massage her clit.

"You like that, baby?"

"God, yes-" she breathlessly let out, trying not to completely lose it.

The way you touched her was much different from how Owen did. When he (rarely) used his fingers on her, it felt like he was trying to stab her vagina. He couldn't find a clit if it was bright red and glowing. You, however, both teased her and lavished attention on where her body knew it needed it. Your finger teased her hole before slightly stretching it, earning soft sounds from Abby.

You kissed over the firm muscles on her arms as you fucked her, careful to slip another finger into her and give her a good stretch. Abby was incoherent and so messy that her neediness was soaking your knuckles, trickling down your hand. You didn't complain or joke about it, even letting out sweet, approving hums onto her skin.

Your fingers didn't drill in and out of her like a screwdriver, much like Owen's, but rather plunging within her to press into her g-spot and curling upward. You kept your thumb on her clit, making sure she had that extra stimulation.

"Do you like it?" You asked, eyes peering up to meet hazy pair.

Abby eagerly nodded, not trusting herself to speak a sensical sentence. You smiled and carefully shifted to kiss her. This time, it wasn't as soft, rather sloppy but it was exactly what Abby needed. Everything you did made her head spin. You had her tongue between your lips, sucking on it and occasionally letting her invade your mouth and taste the sweetness of whatever was once there. Just the soft little nibbles you gave her bottom lip made her moan, a sound that would've been much louder if not swallowed by your mouth.

Best part was, you knew how to multi-task. The desperation she felt was slowly fed with the steady pace of your hand working on her pussy, and your lips made her feel what she didn't understand before: you made her realize that the physical part of sex, the part that she didn't quite like to explore with men, could be just as important as the romantic aspect.

You found a pace that Abby particularly liked, causing her to whine and tangle her fingers into the sheets.

"Fuck, right here. I'm gonna cum." She pleaded, as if so desperate to get to cum. She wanted it so badly, and it only made you more needy to give it to her.

"Yeah? You wanna cum all over my fingers for me?" You cooed, lips brushing against hers. Your short breath sent warmth onto her lips, and she wanted to always feel it. It sent heat throughout her.

"I wanna cum for you!!" Her moans were louder, but you didn't shush her. You instead leaned down to kiss her, fingers pumping into her pussy, thumb rubbing circles down onto her clit.

She felt the final seconds of chasing her orgasm, hips lifting to meet your hand, and she thanked a higher power that you weren't a man who was giving her sloppy thrusts that would never get her over the edge.

You made her feel like she was on cloud nine. She probably cried out your name a couple dozen times, grasped onto your face to kiss your lips just to feel that connection as you fucked her. She never expected to feel such emotion during an orgasm, never was she able to feel this way during masturbation or with guys. It was all because of you that her pussy was sloppy and leaking onto your sheets, making a mess.

When she came down, you let her catch her breath, soothing her with kisses on her shoulders and allowing your cheek to rest on her chest. You listened to her heartbeat, waiting for it to grow steady.

Abby felt content and safe with you, but something was still nagging her. You made her cum, but she hadn't made an effort to touch you yet. She didn't ever want to make you feel the way that Owen made her feel.

She hesitantly but gently tapped your upper back, and you sat up.

"Are you okay?" You asked with a moderate amount of concern present, wanting to make sure you didn't do anything wrong.

"Of course, but..I wanna touch you. If that's okay."

You nodded. "Have you ever touched a woman before? At all?"

Abby shook her head, cheeks a little red. She was a bit nervous, but her eagerness made up for it. You didn't seem hesitant in letting her touch you, and that made her feel more confident.

"I've honestly always wondered what it'd be like to like, go down on a girl." Abby admitted with a sheepish laugh.

You smiled and began to strip, your tank-top and bra leaving your body first. For the first time, Abby felt truly overwhelmed with seeing someone naked. You looked so soft and touchable, and she found herself wondering how you'd taste, feel, and sound like when she made you feel good. She hoped she could make you feel good.

You laid down next to where she was previously laying, and Abby situated herself in front of you. You parted your thighs, and she sworn she felt herself drooling from the sight of your glistening pussy, begging to be eaten like a savory meal.

Abby found it most comfortable to lay on her stomach, face between your legs. She wanted to make you feel appreciated (and she loved your thighs), so she planted kisses along your thighs, frequently peeking up to make sure you were comfortable. When her mouth was near your pussy, she paused.

"Can you guide me? Sorry, I know it's awkward as hell, but I have no clue how to do this and I want to make it nice for you." She could hear the shakiness in her own voice, making her slightly cringe.

Abby felt one of your hands stroke through her hair, fingers carding through the blonde. "Just do what you think would feel good, you know? You're a woman, so try to imagine it on you. I'll tell you what feels good and what doesn't." Abby let herself imagine it for a moment and nodded, knowing that the best way to learn is to just practice and listen to your moans and what you tell her you don't want.

She gave herself a second to calm her nerves, and gave an experimental lick to your clit. You made a soft sound, encouraging more.

As Abby worked, she knew she wasn't physically skilled at this, at least not yet. However, she was enthusiastic about it. She tried to make up for the lack of experience as best she could. Thankfully, you also tugged her head closer and ground your pussy against her mouth, making it easier for you to feel pleasure while she figured out what worked well for you. You seemed to like when she slipped her tongue into you and worked at your clit with her nose, your moans less steady and increasingly broken as she tasted your gummy walls.

She found that to get you to your orgasm, it took much longer than it took Owen. She enjoyed that more than she'd expected to, savoring being able to just taste you. She craved feeling the way your hips stuttered when she gave your clit a firm lick, or hear you cry out when you finally got close to an orgasm.

Abby initially didn't know whether to speed up or continue, but the rhythm of your hips helped guide her until she finally had you cumming on her tongue. You were pretty with your eyes half-lidded and brows knit tightly together, thighs pressing against her face, it made her want to just take a mental snapshot of this moment and keep it with her forever. She didn't know what she loved more, the process of eating pussy or the aftermath.

When you were stable again, Abby moved to mimic your previous action, letting her ear press against your heartbeat. You had to stifle a giggle at how cute it was, but you were probably too out of breath to even get a steady laugh out. She didn't leave sexual, sloppy kisses onto your tits, but rather gentle, loving pecks.

Abby didn't know when exactly she fell asleep, but she woke up with her chest pressed against your back, cuddling you tightly against her. It was probably early in the morning, and her body was still a bit sore, but she smiled and planted a kiss onto the back of your neck, holding your bare form close to hers as she drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

[ay4tou]

miniskirt | gun park x reader 🔞 MDNI

summary: you wear a miniskirt to work one day. all eyes are on you, but... why does it seem like gun's thе only one who doesn't notice?

author's note: my first time writing smut im scared. not proofread (im too lazy) 🙏 anyway miniskirt by aoa is kinda trending on tiktok and i have never felt the urge to write gun with this song so bad 😫 (best read while listening to the song!) | masterlist

contains: smut, afab!reader, blowjob, oral (f and m receiving and giving), cunnilingus, degradation, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, creampie

You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to wear the miniskirt today. You hadn’t initially planned for this to be the day you’d do it.

Maybe it was a burst of impulsive confidence or maybe it was just your growing frustration with Gun's complete lack of acknowledgment of you.

Gun wasn’t like the others in HNH. His tall figure, sharp jawline and slicked-back black hair, the faint scar tracing between his eyes only added to his allure. And his smug smirk was to die for.

You knew what he was.

He was your exact type.

Then you found out he just works as a bodyguard. You were devastated because you were hoping he would be your boss. But right after heaven gives you a miracle because you found out he's your coworker for reasons unknown.

But why was he working in an office? Wasn't his job as a personal bodyguard not making enough money for him already? You never asked, but you never complained either so it's a win in your book.

So every damn day, he drove you insane.

He was the reason you now found yourself walking into the office wearing a skirt that was shorter than anything you’d usually consider professional.

When you walked into the office, you felt the shift immediately.

People whispered, exchanged glances, and a few bold ones even gave approving nods. For once, you were the center of attention. Heck, even Goo commented on your appearance!

Except for the one person who mattered.

Gun didn’t even look up from his desk. He remained glued to his screen, typing on his keyboard. You walked past his office deliberately, letting your heels echo a little louder than usual.

Nothing.

Frowning, you dropped a file on his desk with a bit more force than necessary. “Here’s the report you asked for, Mr. Park.” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Thanks.” he replied without looking at you, his tone as casual as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, willing him to glance up. He didn’t.

You left his office fuming, and spent the rest of the day stewing in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

Was he really that oblivious? Or worse... was he purposefully ignoring you?

But you didn't give up because you actually caught a few subtle shifts from him — his jaw tightening when you leaned over another coworker’s desk, the fleeting flicker of his gaze in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking.

But he gave you nothing else.

By the end of the day, you were ready to throw in the towel. As you packed up your things, you told yourself this was the last time you’d try. Clearly, Gun was either oblivious or uninterested, and you weren’t about to humiliate yourself further.

Then, just as you were about to leave, your screen pinged with a message.

Gun Park: My office. Now.

Your stomach flipped. His messages were always cold, but something about this one felt different. You stood, smoothing your skirt and trying not to overthink as you made your way to his office.

When you stepped inside, Gun was leaning back in his chair, his arms resting on the armrests, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Close the door."

You did as he asked, the quiet click of the lock unnervingly loud.

“Lock it.” he added, his tone so demanding it sent a shiver down your spine.

When you turned back, his gaze was on you for the first time all day.

“You’ve been trying to get my attention all day.” he said, his voice smooth and steady, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Why?”

Before you could respond, he stood, his towering frame making the office feel smaller. He closed the distance between you, his hand grazing your waist as he backed you against the door.

The intensity of his stare made your heart race, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, almost testing, before he deepened it, his hand sliding to the back of your neck.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless.

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Let’s see what you do with it.”

You kiss him back rough and demanding while his hands grip your hips tightly. He pulls you closer, pressing his hard bulge against you as he messily bites your lip.

He brings you to his table and stands in front of you. "Turn around."

You turn away from him, facing the desk.

Gun looks at your back and then slowly lets his gaze travel down, taking in the length of your legs and the way the skirt hugs your curves. He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt.

"Fuck..." he mutters under his breath.

"What are you doing?" you asked, flustered.

He doesn't respond, too focused on his sudden urge to touch you. Gun's fingers slowly lift the hem of your skirt, exposing a pair of black thigh-high stockings and a hidden garter belt. "Shit." He whispers, his breath hitching in his throat. "What are you wearing?"

"I thought it would be a good idea."

"Wearing this underneath since this morning..." His voice trails off as he imagines every moment you've been bending over, walking across the office. "Christ. Were you trying this hard to impress me?"

Gun's breath catches in his throat as the thought alone sends electricity through his body. He thinks to himself, "Me? Gun Park? The Gun Park? Being a pervert?"

Whatever.

"You know what?" He pauses, his professional demeanor cracking as desire takes over. "Bend over the desk."

His eyes lock onto the lace panties that are now stretched across your backside. He steps closer, his knees hitting the back of your thighs and spreading them wider. "Lift your skirt."

As you lift your skirt higher, revealing more of your thighs, he can't hold back a low groan. He runs his hands up your thighs possessively.

"C'mon, spread your legs wider."

His hands grip your thighs as you spread your legs wider, giving him an even better view of the lace that's now stretched obscenely across your backside. Gun can feel his pants tightening.

Without another word, he reaches between your legs and grasps the fabric of your panties, tearing them clean off your body, and discards the ruined lace to the side.

"Shit... I'm so hard..." Gun mutters, his gaze fixated on your bare, pink flesh.

His hands dig into your thighs as he holds you down while kneeling, his mouth and tongue working furiously between your thighs.

He can feel you trying to squirm and close your legs, but he keeps them spread wide open, his face buried between them as he devours you like a starving man.

Gun hooks his arms under your thighs and wraps them around his shoulders, pulling your legs up higher and opening you up even more. He plunges his tongue inside you, curling it upwards to hit that spot that makes you whimper and try to pull away. "Stay."

Without breaking contact, he stands up and spins you around, bending you forward over the table.

Your bare ass is now on full display, your pussy glistening with your arousal and his saliva. He unbuckles his belt and pants quickly, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

Pulling your hips back against his stomach, he rubs his large, thick head between your wet folds before aligning himself and slamming inside you without warning, filling you up completely and stretching you wide open.

"Ngh- Ah! You could've warned me first!"

"Not when you look so pretty like this."

He leans forward, pressing his muscular chest against your body as he continues to fuck you.

One hand releases your hip to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly as he speaks in your ear. "You're so tight..."

Gun growls in your ear, hand tightening around your throat as he speeds up his thrusts. "Pathetic. Look how tiny you are."

Suddenly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. He grabs his office chair, spinning it around so the backrest is facing you. Gun sits down, and pats his lap, smirking. "Come here, and sit on my cock."

His eyes darken with desire and amusement as he watches you hesitantly move towards him. He spreads his legs wider, giving you room to sit.

As soon as you're close enough, he grabs your hips roughly and lifts you up, settling you onto his length.

"Ngh..." He groans in satisfaction as he feels your tight, warm pussy envelop his cock.

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you in place as he starts bouncing you up and down on his lap, the chair creaking under the force of his movements. "I love this position."

Gun's hands splay across your stomach, pulling you down onto him harder and faster.

He looks down between your bodies, watching as his thick, veined length disappears inside you over and over. He wraps his fingers in your hair, tugging sharply to pull your head back and arch your back, forcing you to sit up straighter on his lap.

He uses his hold on your hair to control your movements, pulling you down onto him brutally as he thrusts his hips up to meet you.

*knock *knock*

Well shit.

Freezing, his hand still grips your hair tightly, and whispers in your ear.

"Don't move. And don't say a word." His free hand moves to cover your mouth as footsteps approach the door.

"Yes?"

The knocking persists, and a muffled voice calls out, "Sir, I have those important files you requested. Can I come in and leave them on your desk?"

Gun reluctantly disentangles himself from you, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. In swift movements, he helps you off his lap and starts hastily buttoning his shirt. "Damn paperwork... Always ruining my fun."

He quickly ushers you towards the small bathroom right next to his office, his voice barely audible. "Hide in here." As you scramble inside, he straightens his rumpled shirt and strides to the door.

Opening the door, Gun greets the assistant with a strained smile, one hand subtly adjusting his slightly disheveled appearance. "You're fast, I'll give you that. Come in, lay them on the desk."

After ensuring the assistant has left, Gun lets out a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to the files.

Once he's finished reviewing them, he calls out to you in a low tone. "It's clear, you can come out now."

As you emerge from the bathroom door, embarrassed, his frown lessens as he stacks the files neatly. "Work is giving me a headache today. I can't concentrate on anything with this constant stress."

He leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an impending migraine.

"You know, I could really use something to relieve this stress." He says, a mischievous glint emerging in his tired eyes. "Any ideas?"

Suddenly, a light bulb turns on in your head. The cogs in your head started turning, forming an idea.

"I have a great idea."

Gun smirks widely as he sees you kneeling before him, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

A very great idea indeed.

He had never seen a woman this ambitious and hot both at the same time before all his life. He shifts slightly in his chair, already growing hard again at the sight of you.

He lifts his hips to help you remove his pants and boxers. "Well... I suppose that is one very effective stress-relief technique."

As you free his length from his pants, Gun lets out a low sigh of relief, his eyes drifting shut as you begin to stroke him. "Fuck, that feels good." He groans, his hand reaching out to run his fingers through your hair.

His breathing quickens as you speed up, his other hand gripping the armrest. "Just like that..." He pushes his hips forward slightly, matching your rhythm. "You're going to make me cum..."

Gun inhales sharply as you suddenly bury your face into his cock, sending jolts of intense pleasure through his body. "Shit!" He gasps, hands gripping your hair as you begin to bob your head.

Groaning, Gun throws his head back.

His hips buck instinctively, fucking your face with increasing urgency as he races towards his impending orgasm.

With a final thrust, he comes undone, his hot, thick cum spilling onto your waiting tongue and down your throat. "Ngh..."

Gun shudders violently, his fingers tangled in your hair as he rides out his intense orgasm.

Still panting heavily, Gun scoops you up into his arms and kisses you deeply, his tongue swirling with yours as he feels the lingering warmth of his cum on your tongue. "I need you so bad." He murmurs against your lips before gently adjusting you to enter his still-hard cock.

"W-wait... I need time to prepare..."

"You're already so wet and stretched out for me."

Without missing a beat, he sheathes himself fully inside you, the sensation exquisite as your wet heat envelops him once more. "Mhmmm..." you groan. Pulling you closer, his hands grip your hips firmly.

Gun starts thrusting vigorously, his thick cock pounding into you relentlessly as if driven by renewed vigor. He grunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down onto his lap.

"I'm gonna fill you up until you can't walk straight."

He maintains his relentless pace, sweat beading on his forehead as he fucks you.

With a growl, Gun suddenly stands, taking you with him. "Hands on the desk." He commands roughly, bending you over the desk again. "I need to fuck you deeper."

He enters you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounds into you faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"Fuck! Do you like it rough like this, baby?" He curses under his breath, slamming into you with all his strength.

His rhythm gets messy until his seed spills into you once more as he moans, hands tightening painfully on your hips. Gun pants, pulling out slightly before slamming back in, trying to go even deeper. "I can't stop..."

"Mr. Park, I think- Ngh~ I think we need to stop... I need to- Ah~ to go... home..." You attempted to form a coherent sentence as Gun rams you inside out. "Please..!"

"Just one more."

He pants heavily, slowly pulling out until just the tip remains inside before slamming back in. "I swear, this is the last time. But your pussy is too good to stop."

Quickly setting you sideways, his pace becomes frantic, hips slamming against yours as he chases his release.

Gun buries himself deep inside you, semen pumping out aggressively.

His muscles tense, and he slowly withdraws, watching in satisfaction as his cum leaks out around your entrance and onto the table.

"Look at that mess..."

Gun watches the cum drip with a look of pure satisfaction, taking in your used but satiated expression.

His hands move teasingly over your folds, mixing his cum around.

"Sir. I really need to go home now."

A bit startled by your response, Gun helps you sit up, wrapping his arms around your waist to support you as you wobble slightly due to the aftershocks and his excessive release inside you.

"Damn, you really look wrecked... Can you walk straight?"

"Uhh... yeah. I think I can."

He gently wipes down your sweaty form with a towel, making sure you're at least cleaned up enough for travel.

"Let me drive you. You're in no state to drive safely." He helps you get dressed, acting surprisingly tender for someone who just fucked you so hard.

As you stepped out of the office, your cheeks still warm and your shirt slightly rumpled, you quickly tried to fix your hair and smooth your skirt. The worst part was that you felt there was still fluid coming out of your pussy and onto the underwear Gun made you borrow.

In front of you, your boss walked ahead, looking far too composed for someone whose belt was now crooked, the top button of his shirt undone, and his sleeves slightly rolled.

The moment some of your coworkers caught sight of you, their eyes widened, and sly grins began to spread across their faces.

You tried to keep your head down, but it was impossible to ignore.

As you both stepped outside, you dared a glance at the disheveled man, but Gun's face remained impassive, his usual unreadable calm in place. He walked ahead to his car, unlocking it with a press of a button before holding the door open for you like nothing had happened.

As he pulls up to your apartment building, he turns to you, his hand resting on the steering wheel. "Are you going to be able to stand up straight without collapsing?"

"Yeah... nope."

Gun lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head, getting out of the car and coming around to your side to help you out.

He supports your weight as you enter the building, helping you to the elevator.

"Which floor?"

"21st."

He helps you out of the elevator and supports you as you stumble down the hallway to your apartment door.

He waits for you to unlock the door before helping you inside and kicking the door shut behind you. "Okay, bed. Now."

"Can you carry me?"

Taken aback by your request, Gun half-carries, half-drags you to your bedroom, his arms wrapped around your waist.

As he lowers you onto the bed, he accidentally ends up on top of you, his large frame sprawled over your smaller one. "Damn it, you're too light."

Gun looks down at you, his face inches from yours. His eyes drift over your messy hair and flushed skin, a spark of something dangerous flicking in his gaze.

"Fuck, you look- nevermind. Too tired for this shit."

His large hands roam over your sides possessively as he tries to shift off of you, but his body seems to have other ideas.

"Damn it, I really need to leave."

Despite his words, Gun's body lingers atop yours, his muscular form pressing you into the mattress. He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "You gonna be alright like this?"

"Mhmm, I guess so."

"Okay. I'm leaving."

"No... Stay. I still want you."

A dark smirk spreads across his face as he realizes what you've said. "What was that? I don't think I heard you clearly."

His hands slip under your shirt, slowly pushing it up. "You want me to stay or are you too tired?"

"Stay. Pretty please?"

His fingers trace the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a moment before he decides to ignore your silence.

"Fuck it. I'll stay." He pushes your shirt up further, revealing your stomach. "But just because I want to, not because you asked nicely."

His smirk grows wider as he helps you out of your shirt completely. "Not so chatty now, huh?"

His lips trail along your collarbone while his hands work on removing your miniskirt the second time this day. "Though I gotta admit..."

"Hey, stop. I didn't mean it like this. Just stay until the morning comes around."

He pauses, his fingers brushing against the waistband of your skirt as he looks at you, a bit disappointed.

"Oh. Alright." Gun leans down and captures your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

"Just gonna make out with you all night, then."

[klausysworld]

Heyy could I please get a birthday story on the 12th of january? Just do what ever you wanna write as long as it as something to do with a birthday of the reader / Y/N

Please and thank you<3

Happy Birthday!!

In The Family

Birthdays were a complicated topic for the Mikaelsons. After living so long time became more and more insignificant and irrelevant to them, especially being vampires where sleep wasn't mandatory. Forever is a long time and yet if time is not real then forever is nothing at all.

For Y/N birthdays were everything. Her family always made a fuss over each other's birthdays, the celebration of the life they'd been blessed with and the ways in which they'd developed them.

However, Y/N knew that her vampire friends were overly fond so she didn't tell them when her birthday was coming up. Not even Rebekah.

She assumed they'd never ask either because it simply did not matter to them which she understood from their points of view and she never pushed the matter.

Y/N did her birthday as usual.

She went out with her friends the weekend before, minus Rebekah, Kol, Elijah and Klaus as she knew they wouldn't get along with her childhood friends as well as she'd maybe hope and so they didn't feel pressured into buying presents or embarrassingly singing happy birthday to her. Y/N got drunk and danced around deep into the night, laughing through the streets as she and her oldest friend stumbled to the hotel they were staying at for the night.

She was supposed to see her parents on her actual birthday, however they rang her all stressed out and upset saying that something important had come up and they'd have to see her the day after.

Y/N was a little upset of course that she wouldn't get to see them like normal but she understood and told them it was just another day and it could wait for a family emergency. They offered to send her gifts over, face time in the day when possible but she told them to wait until the day after and pretend her birthday had not been yet.

Her family were devastated to miss the day, they'd always made such a big deal in the past and so missing it for the first time was strange for everyone.

Y/N thought it wouldn't matter, that she too could pretend her birthday wasn't for another day...but she couldn't, not really; not truly.

Instead she ended up sat quietly on her couch, dressed for a day that wasn't going to start, watching a film she didn't really want to see and eating a microwave meal because she had forgotten to go shopping and to be honest she wasn't so sure she could afford it. Living on her own was difficult enough, especially when her job was so frequently interrupted by Mikaelson family drama; Rebekah always had her on call begging her to come over because something terrible had happened. Once Bex was okay, Y/N would find Kol upset and comfort him, find Elijah silently contemplating which was never a good thing and last but not least she'd find Klaus staring blankly at a half painted canvas, unable to conjure anything else onto the page.

She and Klaus had a complex relationship. They enjoyed each other's company and simply enjoyed each other but Klaus was too cautious of what happened to those her got to close to him and Y/N always feared she was imagining his feelings so brushed it off as much as she could. However, it was no secret that they liked each other, Rebekah teased them both endlessly and hoped they'd finally give in. Kol hoped Y/N would lighten Klaus's grouchy mood, and Elijah wondered if it were even possible for Klaus to love so purely again.

But still, their twisted family dynamic meant that she was the Mikaelson fire distinguisher which messed with her hours at work and therefore her pay.

On top of that, spending money on a hotel the week before and however much alcohol had not helped her cupboards nor her fridge. So her home remained empty and lonely for the majory of the day.

It was late afternoon, early evening when Rebekah messaged. It appeared to be urgent so Y/N rushed to be there for them, Fearing someone could be hurt or worse.

She sped in her car all the way there, probably gaining multiple speeding tickets which would catch her up in a weeks time. Her hands quickly pushed the doors open, her feet clumsily carrying her inside, her voice strained as she called out for Rebekah, then Klaus when she got no answer. A flood of worry filled her as she hurried up the stairs, checking each room but finding no one before going back down and bursting through the dining room swinging doors.

Her breathing was a state, her hair stuck to her forehead as she fell silent and froze. Each Mikaelson stood behind their place at the table, smiling as innocently as they could at her.

The table was covered in candles and flowers, a pile of presents in the centre. Her expression relaxed slightly and then softened, her eyes starting to sting as tears built up that they'd do something like this for her.

"You didn't think we'd forget did you?" Rebekah asked with a laugh, leaving her post and coming over in front of Y/N who was wiping her eyes.

"I never even told you, how...how did you know?" She sniffed and Rebekah smiled. "Nik found out." She whispered, as if the rest of the people in the room didn't have sonic hearing. Y/N's eyes drifted up to Klaus gratefully and he smiled back, his hands clenching slightly as he held onto the back of his chair.

"We thought we'd let you have the day with your family before making you come over." Rebekah grinned, grabbing her hand and pulling her to sit at the head of the table. "How was it with your family? Who came? Parents? Aunts and Uncles? Oh cousins- oh..." Rebekah shut up when Kol kicked the back of her leg, her eyes focusing on Y/N who was fighting tears.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled, her face red as Klaus too moved from his place and rubbed the side of her arm comfortingly. "My family couldn't come is all, it's not a big deal I just haven't ever done it alone before." She whispered and they each softened.

"You aren't alone anymore, love." Klaus murmured softly, kissing the side of her head and pulling her seat back for her to sit before tucking her back in.

"Yeah, don't worry darling, we're practically family anyways so you aren't really missing out." Kol shrugged, filling her wine glass making her laugh a little.

"I do hope we didn't worry you too much with the ominous text message, dear. I did tell Rebekah it was too harsh." Elijah apologised, frowning to himself but Y/N wiped her eyes again and shook her head with a smile.

"It's alright Elijah, it made for a really lovely surprise." She told him earnestly and his features relaxed as he nodded faintly.

Dinner started coming out only a moment later, all of Y/N's favourite foods as a picky eater loaded onto each of their plates and placed in front of them making Y/N blush pink and smile wide at their antics.

"See? This is my kind of dinner, good choice darling." Kol licked his lips, lifting a slice of pizza and letting it droop onto his mouth making Klaus roll her eyes and Y/N giggle.

As they ate, Y/N's eyes drifted round the room; seeing the extent of their effort as she looked at the dozens of balloons that had floated up. Then her gaze flicked to each Mikaelson. Kol was eating like a caveman, Rebekah was mixing her ketchup and mayonnaise like a child, Elijah was delicately cutting into his chicken nugget and Klaus...Klaus was looking back at her.

A small silence lingered over them, even as the others spoke between them. Y/N was brought back into it when Rebekah started telling a funny story about Elijah from centuries before, effectively embarrassing the usually stoic original and pulling a genuine laugh from Klaus.

They told Y/N about the faint memories they had of birthdays from when they were human, children especially and how they would spoil their little brother Henrik.

"In a way, you're our younger sister now. Much, much younger, you know...a thousand years give or take but still." Kol said with his mouth full. The sentiment there but his humour everpresent.

"Perhaps a sister to us however I do doubt she and Klaus would ever consider the other a sibling." Elijah commented and everyone's heads turned to him, not expecting the comment from Elijah's lips.

Rebakah started laughing first, then Kol which encouraged them all to fall into a cycle of giggles.

Klaus and Y/N flew past the teasings and continued with the evening. Eating icecream and chatting away before the cake was brought out.

It was a beautiful cake, almost magically so.

Y/N could feel her cheeks burn red and her smile go so wide it hurt when they sang happy birthday to her and clapped as she blew out the candles, telling her to make a wish. She made eye contact with Klaus as she did and Rebekah snickered.

An hour or so later Elijah began to pack things away, Kola and Rebekah suddenly disappeared and Klaus refused to let Y/N tidy up her own party so he took her upstairs.

They walked the stairs leisurely as if it were obvious something were waiting up there. Y/N wasn't sure what but she definitely hadn't expected his art room to be a romantically lit space. Music playing softly in the back ground as he stood before her and held out his hand for a dance.

He spun her to his chest, his hand in hers and the other on her waist keeping her close as they swayed against each other. His eyes stayed on hers, daring her to look away as he dipped her.

Barely a second went before both of them leaned into a kiss. Y/N's hand left his to hold onto his neck as he clutched her hips, holding her up to him as their lips moulded together perfectly.

Klaus pulled back, listening to her panting softly for lost air as he rest his forehead against hers and loosened his grip on her slightly. "You're family" He whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Your birthday is important and I promise we'll never, ever miss it."

"Thank you, Klaus. For everything today." She muttered quietly, almost shyly and he smiled, kissing her cheek just beside her lips.

"You're welcome, love. Happy birthday."

[jojoboisimagines]

Jojos react to you accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

Jojos (1-7) react to accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

.::.

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan, surprisingly, isn't completely made of brick and instantly grips his nose after you strike it rather hard.

Once you apologize over and over, he lets out a strained chuckle, not wanting to worry you even longer despite it still hurting.

"beloved, you sure have a hand on you..."

He laughs, regarding of the ache that made his head spin for a moment.

"Hang tight Jojo, I'm getting some cream!" You quickly dash off.

"wait, darling, its not that bad-" Before he finishes, you had already left to get something to ease the pain

It was gone in a couple of minutes, he was a tough guy..but perhaps play hitting is off the table for a while-

Joseph Joestar

"Owowowow---did you do that on purpose??"

He's quick to accuse. It probably wouldn't be the first time you wanted to hit him for real, but this time was an honest mistake.

"no Jojo, it was just an accident!" you swear up and down, but it takes a bit before he actually believes you.

Eventually he leaves to get an icepack for his nose before Lisa Lisa or someone else sees, which would be infinitely more embarrassing.

"maybe we should just stick to tickling or something.." He mutters in a defeated manner, holding the ice up to soothe the ache.

it was admiteddly a little funny, but for the sake of him not staying mad at you, you'll withhold your laughter for now.

"I want compensation for my beautiful eye!" He holds out his hand, expecting something.

"wh--I said i was sorry! I'll get it later!"

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro lets out a pained hiss, facepalming as he needed a minute.

Concern quickly overcomes you and you pull his hand away to make sure there was no mark or anything broken.

"Lets stop." He's no longer in the mood for play fighting--if anything he thought it was a bad idea in the first place in fear of him hurting you--when it turned out being the other way around.

You feel awful for punching him that hard on accident, especially since you knew he was probably upset or wanted to pretend he isn't hurt.

"I'm sorry, Jotaro.." Putting a comforting hand on his arm, you lean over to look at his face that had been turned from you.

"it was just a punch, i've had worse." He was right on that front, but a punch is a punch.

"alright tough guy, but at least tell me when something hurts.." You put a bag of ice on it, making him wince.

"was it not obvious-" he argues.

That was enough to make you scoff in both humor and disbelief.

Josuke Higashikata

"Oi Timeout timeout!"

Josuke makes the T gesture with his hand and heaves, now hunching over with his hands on his knees.

"..Josuke? You good?" You lean over his crouched form, not realizing how strong the impact on his face was.

"im..i'm good, just give me a minute-" he bluffs, clearly being out of breath. You didn't believe it for a second. He never was that good of a liar, to you at least.

Ignoring his protests, you go and get the first aid kit in his house's closet, coming back with some ointment and a bandaid

"There, now you look like more of a delinquint at least!~" you smile after placing it across his nose.

"True but...lets just not tell anyone this came from you punching me in the face, alright?"

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has a...delayed reaction for lack of a better term. He certainly stops hitting and stumbles, but it takes him a moment to actually register that what he's feeling in his cheeks is actual pain

To spare your feelings, he'll act like it didn't hurt as much as it did, only rubbing the spot a bit and standing normally again.

"..giorno? You good?" you eventually ask, since he isn't really giving any hints as to why he went silent.

"i'm fine, dearest." Giorno is actually pretty good at playing it off, but you could tell his tone sounded a bit different

He likely isn't going to admit that it hurt, so you have to make the call to stop roughhousing. It wasn't worth it to mess up his pretty face.

You'll just...subtly get him some ice cream as an apology

Jolyne Kujo

"oW! you dick!"

Jolyne punches back twice as hard, which probably wasn't the best thing to do in this situation, but she's been roughhoused enough times in her life-

Now both of you were hurting, holding your heads in pain.

"j-Jolyne, did i hurt you?"

"Yeah! I said ow, didn't I?" She snaps back, rubbing her cheek.

She won't hold it against you for long, but you figure you should buy her a snack or something to 'regain her trust' again

"..need me to kiss it better?" You suggest, both as a tease and honestly.

Jolyne's eyes dart around...well, there was no one around to see, so maybe just this once. "..fine.." She unfolds her arms, scooting towards you.

Johnny Joestar

"Okay Okay I get it!-"

Johnny puts both of his hands up to shield his face from your assualt, and for a moment you think he's joking, before a whole minute goes by with him like that and not saying anything.

"..hey, Johnny, let me see..." Your hand gently coasts over his, slowly pulling it away.

His face was super red. Tears were partially visible at the corners of her eyes.

it was almost humorous, as it usually is when his face reddens, but he was also in pain

"do you need something? I can get a bandage." You suggest, not knowing where you hit to cause that reaction

"i need you to stop hitting me that hard, goddam-"

he was only making it harder not to laugh, but you were truly sorry and will treat him to coffee to make his pout go away

[cherryblossms]

his eyes widened at the rule angel made, that definitely backfired on him. what if it took a full week for the marks to go away? how the hell was he supposed to come seven times? he'd only ever finished twice in one day and that was hours between sittings. if angel made him come over and over to match the days he was marked, there was no way he'd ever be leaving his bed. not that the idea didn't excite and entice him, he just knew that he would not be able to handle that kind of play without working their way up to it. "that's mean," he whispered as if he didn't want angel to hear but they were so close, how could he not hear. "maybe if they were marks left by your mouth, that'd be okay. i just don't want to be hit like that again," the last part of his statement slipped from his lips before he had the chance to actually think about his words. he didn't want angel to feel bad for him, he didn't want to be pitied. garam also didn't want angel to think he had to be super careful all the time with him, he didn't mind being spanked. especially by angel where he knew the action came from lust and not anger like it seemed to come from axel. "i liked when you spanked me." he made sure to add in, to ensure angel knew it was something he was okay with happening. garam knew his cheeks were already red with how angel was speaking to him, he could feel them heat up even more at the endless possibilities of fun the two of them could have together. but just thinking about that, knowing that he was blushing, only made him more shy and turned on. not wanting what happened last night to happen again, garam did what he thought was best and decided to hide his lap the best he could by disguising more cuddling as coverage. his body shifts a bit more to pull his knee up, resting it on top of angel's thigh in order to provide cover for himself. he knew his feet were cold, they always seemed to be, but that didn't stop him from trailing his toes up and down the man's shin. "are you sure you're okay with what happened? i really don't want you to think this was some kind of rebound, because it wasn't. not for me. i mean, rebounds are supposed to be temporary and i really don't want this to be temporary." they'd already crossed the line, garam knew he wouldn't be able to handle their friendship being ruined if angel decided he regretted hooking up with garam so quickly. garam looked up, moving his hand up from angel's chest to the side of his neck. his thumb gently grazed against angel's throat, paying special attention to his adam's apple. "i mean, you were just kissing somebody else yesterday. and i understand why you did but i know how you feel now and i'm here, i'm not going to put anybody else before you anymore. i know i don't really have any right to say this yet but i'd really like it if you didn't go kissing anybody else again, unless you're not really that serious about me... or us." now that garam knew that axel wasn't who he thought he was, there was that bit of doubt in his mind that worried angel wasn't the first person axel, essentially, cheated with. in turn, that made him doubt himself and feel self-conscious, like he wasn't going to really be enough for anybody. "i won't kiss anybody either, i have zero interest in doing anything with anyone else." he wanted to clarify, so angel wouldn't think it was a one sided expectation.

Watching Garam lick his fingers was something Angel would never forget. The man continued to surprise him. we should've done this sooner. He couldn’t agree more. But instead Angel laughed softly as he placed another kiss to the top of the man’s head. Angel laid beside the man and smiled as he protested him taking a bath. He wouldn’t argue, Angel wanted nothing more than to keep Garam in his arms. And hearing the man say he was happy filled him with joy. That’s all he ever wanted for Garam. Was for him to be happy. And to know that he was the cause was the icing on the cake. What he was not expecting were the kisses that followed. And those kisses soon turning into bites. He couldn’t help but let out breathless moans as his arms tightened around his best friend. His bottom lip soon caught between his teeth as he tilted his neck to allow the man better access to it. Angel’s mind was completely blank. He could only focus on the kissing and bites to his neck that were driving him insane. But he kept himself calm, knowing this was it for the day. They had crossed many lines in one day and they both needed a break. No matter how horny they both seemed to be. He cared for Garam too much to allow urges to block their genuine feelings for each other. Or more importantly their friendship. When the smaller man seemed satisfied with his markings and let up Angel let out a breath, “You are going to be the death of me” he teased running his hands slowly down the man’s back. As Garam gave him his rule he smirked. Angel knew he could hold out but he wondered if his friend could. “Really only on your neck? What if I want to leave one here?” Angel asked as his fingers gazed over the man’s thigh. “Or maybe here? I think this would be a perfect spot” he continued to tease moving his fingers from his thigh to Garam’s ass. He left a little tap before grabbing it grinning, “Mm, I don’t mind waiting until they are gone. Do I get to make a rule?” Angel asked enjoying their banter. “For every day I have to wait. That’s how many times you cum” Angel was sure to press a kiss to the man’s cheeks as he spoke and moving to whisper in his ear. As they both pulled back Angel smiled being able to see the man clearly now. His eyes softened as Garam spoke taking in what he was saying. His tone seemed serious yet nervous. He used his free hand to brush some loose strands from his face. An eyebrow raised as the smaller man began to stumble over his words and his cheeks turned a shade of pink. As Garam hid his face away Angel let out a chuckle and nodded, “Okay baby I got it. I’ll keep that in mind.” He squeezed the man against him kissing the side of his head. As they laid there in silence for a moment Angel’s mind began to wander. He wasn’t ready for full intercourse. The idea of it scared him. He truly didn’t know how his body would react. Yes, when he was around Garam in the beginning he would flinch or stiffen whenever the man touched him. He wished he could make sense of it. Why his body reacted that way. But what he did feel is safe with Garam. And right now safety was everything for Angel. “Garam, I didn’t think I was ready or anything. Especially not for whatever the hell we just did. But you make me feel safe. And I’m happy it was with you”

[janiehellion]

A Taste Of Sin

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You were younger than him, tempting—wearing nothing but a sundress in the heat of a warm summer breeze. And Rick Grimes never planned on giving in, but you—you were the taste of sin he couldn’t ignore.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: RICK GRIMES X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / CHEATING / AGE GAP / INFIDELITY / SEMI-PUBLIC SEX / BLOWJOB / CUMPLAY / DUB-CON ELEMENTS / MANIPULATION / LANGUAGE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.201

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S02E06—SECRETS

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You've had your eyes on Rick Grimes, not that it was anything new. Since Atlanta, really. You couldn't help but stare, even though you knew you shouldn't.

Maybe you did because the world was falling apart, and Rick was still trying to hold it all together right from the start. But then again, maybe it was just the way he wore that sheriff's hat when there was no law anymore, the way his eyes caught yours when you least expected it, and the way it made your heart race.

So when you saw him now, talking to Shane and Lori in the distance, you couldn't help but keep your gaze completely on him, your thoughts wandering to places they probably shouldn't.

You weren't stupid. You knew Rick was married, and you knew that Lori was his wife. Hell, everyone knew that, but it didn't stop the fire that started to rage inside of you every time you looked at him.

But the moment you saw the gun in Carl's hand, your jaw dropped.

And as you watched part of the group gather around him—Lori's voice rising in panic and irritation while Rick was trying to stay calm—something made you act and get a little closer.

"So on top of everything else, he lied," Lori snapped, her hands thrown up in the air like she couldn't handle another goddamn thing after everything that had happened so far.

Shane's voice, meanwhile, was surprisingly calm. "Well, it's my fault. I let him into the RV. He said he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one."

You could tell Lori wasn't buying it, her face full of disbelief. But Rick didn't flinch. He just looked tired—drained, really—like this was the last thing he needed today. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes, how his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of this new world.

"I'm not comfortable with it," Lori continued, her voice higher now, demanding. "Oh, don't make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?"

Rick let out a long, heavy sigh, his eyes finally looking from Lori to Carl and back. "I know. I have my concerns too, but..."

Lori immediately jumped on him. "There's no but! He was just shot! He's just back on his feet, and he wants a gun?"

Rick's jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "Better than him being afraid of ‘em. There are guns in camp for a reason. He should learn to handle them safely."

Lori's anger almost boiled over. "I don't want my kid walking around with a gun!"

And you? You couldn't stop yourself from speaking up, too. "But Rick's right, Lori," you said, stepping forward. "This is about survival."

Lori's eyes snapped to you, narrowing as if she hadn't realized you were even standing there. "And who in the whole wide world asked you for your opinion when it comes to my family?"

You met her gaze head-on. "I'm just saying, if Carl's going to be out there, he needs to know how to defend himself."

Rick looked at you as well—briefly, but enough to make your heart skip a beat. He didn't say anything, but there was approval in his eyes before he turned back to Lori.

"Look, Carl's not a child anymore," he continued. "He's gotta start understanding this world, Lori. You can't keep sheltering him."

Lori's face was turning red a little, the argument getting more personal now. "Then he needs to act like one," she snapped, her hands on her hips. "He's not mature enough to handle a gun!"

Carl stood a little straighter, trying to defend himself. "I'm not gonna play with it, Mom!"

But it wasn't just about Carl and the gun. It was about something that no one wanted to talk about, but everyone else seemed to notice.

And you knew that the cracks in their marriage were getting bigger. You couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before one of them stepped out.

Rick shifted his weight, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at Lori. "We can't keep treating Carl like a little kid. Not in this world. He needs to grow up, and fast."

"Exactly. Just give it a rest, Lori."

Your words made all eyes look at you.

"I'm sorry?" She demanded, voice rising. "How about you stay out of this?"

You crossed your arms, still not backing down.

"No, give it a rest. Carl's not a damn baby. This world's gone to hell, and you're still acting like he's gonna be safe because you tell him to stay put."

Meanwhile, Shane smirked at you. But you didn't care about him right now.

"Excuse me, but this is my son we're talking about. Not yours!"

"Oh, we all know that," you snapped, stepping closer. "You just don't want him to grow up because then he won't need Mommy holding his hand anymore."

Her mouth dropped open, stunned silent.

You didn't stop.

"I'm just saying… Rick's right. Shane as well. He needs to learn how to survive. But go ahead. Let's see how well that works when a walker gets too close and he'll turn. Because from where I stand, you don't get it, do you? Carl's not a fucking baby. If you think this world's going to get any better, you're out of your damn mind."

"You're just a teenager," she responded, putting her hands on her hips like she was somehow superior to you. "What do you know?"

"I'm not." You stepped forward. "I know a hell of a lot more than you give me credit for. Maybe it's time you stop playing the victim and realize we all have to step up, not just Carl. It's not his fault he's growing up in this nightmare."

Shane and Rick stayed silent, but you could feel their eyes on you. You didn't care. Lori was the one who'd been pissing you off for days, and it was time someone called her out besides Daryl Dixon.

But Lori, fuming, turned on her heel and stormed off, just like that. And the moment she was gone, Rick let out a deep breath, clearly relieved that it was over for now.

He didn't speak to you at first, just glanced at you with that tired look on his face, like he had no idea what to say. Then, his voice came out soft, like it had to fight its way through his exhaustion.

"Thanks," he said, the corner of his mouth showing a tiny hint of a smile. He didn't say much, but it was enough.

You nodded, smiling at him in return. "No problem."

Rick gave you one last look before turning away, and you couldn't help but stare after him, your heart pounding.

The hours dragged on, the heat making you sweat. You leaned against the side of the porch, arms crossed, watching the others from a distance. Maggie and Glenn had just left, but you weren't paying attention to them. You were lost in your thoughts, as usual.

Letting out a slow breath, you stared at the dirt beneath your feet, the faintest trace of dust swirling around. It felt like the world was always watching you, but you never seemed to matter. They all looked right past you like you were invisible at best.

You were supposed to be part of this group, right? But somehow, you always felt like an outsider. Even back in Atlanta, when the world was still—well, a little bit more normal—you didn't fit in. The others saw you somehow as a kid. Just a teenager, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Hell, you were an adult now, having had your birthday already, but no one ever seemed to treat you that way.

"Jim was the only one who ever really talked to me," you said to yourself, shaking your head. "Before he got bit, anyway."

You let the memory of Jim come back. He has been looking out for you, always making sure you were safe. You used to hate how it felt like pity, but now? Now, you'd give anything to have that feeling again.

But the others? Rick, Lori, Shane, Dale, and the rest—they didn't see you that way. They saw you as a kid to protect. A burden.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the frustration that threatened to come back, too. "Dale? Yeah, he used to look out for me too. But as soon as Andrea came into the picture, it was like I didn't even exist anymore. It's always the same. There's always someone else. Maggie's got Glenn. Shane's still got his thing with Lori… And Rick?"

Your heart raced at the thought of him. You didn't want it to, but it did. And you couldn't help yourself. "Rick… he doesn't even see me. Not really. Looking at me, sure. But he's too busy playing the damn sheriff, trying to keep this group together."

Your fingers twitched at your sides, fighting the urge to run your hands through your hair. You shook your head again, clearing the thoughts.

"God, what the hell's wrong with me?" You laughed, taking a slow breath. "It's not like I'm a kid anymore. I'm not some… little girl."

You let out another bitter laugh. "Now I'm just here, stuck in the background. Glenn and Maggie? Yeah, they've already got each other. They've got this… thing. And they're gonna keep it, just like the rest of ‘em, while I'm left here. Alone."

It wasn't fair. Why did they all get to find something? Why did they get to find a connection while you were stuck in the circle of getting replaced?

You closed your eyes for a second, trying to shake the feeling off. It wasn't like you wanted to be envious. But you couldn't help it.

"Maybe Rick could see me," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But he probably doesn't even know I'm here. Probably sees me as some damn kid still."

You laughed again, softer now, but still sounding bitter. "He's too busy with Lori. They've got their shit to figure out, and I'm just the quiet one in the background. Not important."

But the thought stayed anyway. What if he did see you? What if, for once, you weren't invisible to him?

"God, what I'd do just to feel him—" you whispered to yourself. You imagined the heat of his chest pressing against yours, the weight of his hips pressing against yours, the way he might growl your name as you wrapped your legs around him, desperate to feel him inside you. So fucking desperate.

Still, you shoved that thought away before it could go any further. But the yearning, that ache in your chest, stayed. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to make him see you. You wanted him to see you as something more than just the girl in the background. Something worth noticing.

You were about to slip back into your head, your thoughts wandering down that dangerous path again—the one where you imagined Rick's arms around you, his body pressing into yours, his lips on yours, and him finally losing control—when you heard footsteps stopping right next to you.

You snapped out of it just in time to see Dale passing by. He didn't seem to notice you at first, his focus on whatever task was occupying his mind, but as he got closer, his eyes looked to yours.

It was as if he could see right through you and every goddamn thought you were trying to hide.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

Dale certainly had his way of catching people off guard.

You stiffened, unsure whether to answer. He wasn't the type to push too hard, but you had this feeling that he knew exactly what was going on in your head. You didn't want him to see that side of you, the side that couldn't help but fantasize about things better left unsaid. He'd always been kind to you, like a father. But since Andrea, that kindness felt almost like a trap.

You bit your lip, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just... thinking," you grumbled, trying to wave it off. But you could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, the telltale blush that was always there when your thoughts went to places they shouldn't.

Dale didn't buy it. Of course, he didn't. He took another step toward you, his hands resting lightly on his hips. He studied you, his expression unreadable.

"Thinking about what, exactly?" His voice had that certain tone, the one that made you feel like you couldn't hide anything from him, no matter how hard you tried.

You swallowed, the words almost slipping out before you could stop them. "I don't know... Just the way things are, I guess," you answered, noticing the vulnerability in your voice despite your best efforts.

His gaze softened for a moment, but you knew he was too smart for his own good. Too perceptive.

"You know," he began slowly, eyes looking around to make sure no one else was around, "I don't blame you for feeling the way you do. It's not easy... watching others find what they need while you're stuck in the background. But don't mistake that frustration for something more."

You tensed up again, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?" You asked, the words coming out meaner than you intended.

Dale's expression didn't change, but he shook his head. And him shaking his head always told you he was about to say something you weren't sure you wanted to hear. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. But you might want to be careful, kid. You shouldn't want something that is not for free."

You felt your heart drop. "I—" You were about to deny it, about to play it off as just your imagination, but something about the way Dale was looking at you made you freeze. His voice wasn't sounding accusatory, but more like a quiet warning. He wasn't angry; he wasn't judging. But the way he said it—like he knew—made you feel exposed and uncomfortable.

Dale let out a quiet sigh when you didn't continue. "You're not the first one to want something you can't have, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea to act on it. Sometimes, it's better to let things go. Before they end up biting you in the ass."

The words hit you like a slap to the face. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught in your throat. What the hell was he talking about? Was he warning you off Rick? Was he implying that you had no chance?

But Dale just shook his head, as if reading your thoughts. "I'm not saying it's wrong to feel things. But sometimes, wanting something too badly can make you do stupid shit. And trust me, I know all about that."

The way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from more than just observation. But before you could pry any further, Dale patted you on the shoulder and smiled.

"Just keep your head on straight, okay?" And then, with one last look, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling like a damn fool.

Your mind raced, a million thoughts colliding at once. It was like Dale had read your mind like he knew exactly what you were thinking—what you were feeling. But the fact that he was still treating you like a kid, even though you were an adult, didn't sit right. And it sure as hell didn't help that you couldn't stop thinking about Rick, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself.

Dale had a point, in some ways. But the thing was—you didn't want to just sit on the sidelines anymore. And if you were going to make that happen, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed. But the nerve of him, acting like he had it all figured out like he knew you better than you knew yourself? That made you stomp after him.

"Why don't you mind your own damn business for once?" You snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Dale paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. He didn't turn around, didn't say anything. For a moment, it looked like he might, but then he just shook his head and kept walking farther and farther away.

He didn't get it. None of them did. And the worst part? He was right about one thing—you did want something you shouldn't. Something you couldn't stop thinking about.

With a frustrated huff and clenched fists, you turned on your heel and made your way back toward your tent. You didn't want to think about Dale, or Rick, or anyone else right now. You just wanted to disappear for a while, to escape the constant heat of the sun and the weight of everyone's expectations.

The air inside your tent was stale due to the summer heat, but it was offering at least a bit of privacy. You kicked off your boots, collapsing onto the sleeping pad. Sleep came slowly, your mind still racing with thoughts of Rick—his smile, his walk, the way his lips would feel against your skin. You could almost hear his voice, whispering things only you were meant to hear.

Eventually, exhaustion won out, dragging you into a restless nap.

Later, you woke up to the sound of raised voices outside your tent. Blinking against the midday light that made its way through tiny holes in your tent, you pushed yourself up, groggy and a little disoriented.

Maggie's voice rang out, louder this time. "Hey! We got your stuff."

You moved toward the edge of the tent, peering out just enough to catch the scene unfolding near you. Maggie stood there, fuming, looking frustrated and angry. Glenn was right behind her, looking like he wanted to disappear.

"Maggie, hang on, please," Glenn urged nervously, but Maggie wasn't having it.

"Come on in here," Lori started, but Maggie cut her off. "We got your special delivery right here! We got your lotion, got your conditioner, your Soap Opera Digest!"

"Maggie…" Lori answered, but Maggie wasn't done.

"Next time you want something, get it your damn self! We're not your errand boys!"

"Honey, I—" Lori tried again, but Maggie wasn't listening, fumbling with something in her hands.

"And here's your abortion pills!" She practically spat the words, throwing the pills onto the ground before storming off.

Glenn seemed to hesitate before he turned and followed Maggie into the farmhouse.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, your heart pounding in your chest. Maggie's words came back to your mind, louder with each passing second: Next time you want something, get it your damn self.

The frustration in her voice, the anger—it struck a chord in you.

Get it your damn self...

Your mind started to race, the thoughts clicking into place. Maybe Maggie was right. If you wanted something, maybe it was time to stop sitting around waiting for it to happen. Maybe it was time to do something about it.

And you knew exactly what you wanted.

You'd been sitting on the sidelines long enough, letting everyone else call the shots, letting yourself fade into the background. Not anymore.

The sound of the farmhouse door got your attention. You peered out, catching sight of Glenn stepping back onto the porch, his head low, before leaving Maggie standing there alone in the doorway.

She didn't move, didn't look around—just stared out at the fields as if she were trying to will the world into something more manageable.

You saw your chance and took it.

Stepping out into the relentless sun, you made your way toward her, keeping your expression neutral. "Hey," you called softly as you approached, keeping your voice light but just concerned enough. "You okay?"

Maggie glanced at you, her brows furrowing for a split second before she sighed, letting her arms drop to her sides. "Yeah," she answered, though the tone of her voice betrayed her. "Just tired of cleaning up other people's messes."

You gave her a small, understanding smile. "I get that," you said, leaning casually against the porch railing beside her. "Lori's got a way of rubbing people the wrong way."

That got a short, bitter laugh out of her. "You don't say?"

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence. You wiped a bead of sweat from your temple, exaggerating the motion just enough to get Maggie's attention.

"God, it's too damn hot for this," you said, fanning yourself half-heartedly. "I swear, if I have to spend another day in these jeans around here, I'm gonna lose my mind."

Maggie glanced at you, her frustration softening just a bit. "Tell me about it," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Feels like I've been roasting all day. But I'm used to it."

You hesitated, letting the silence be just long enough before tilting your head slightly as if having an idea. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have anything lighter, would you? I didn't exactly pack for a heatwave and a vacation on a farm, and I'm about ready to cut these jeans into shorts."

Maggie blinked, caught off guard by the question, but then shrugged. "Actually… I might," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I've got some sundresses I don't wear. They're just hanging around in my closet."

You tried not to let your excitement show, keeping your expression casual as you said, "Really? That'd be amazing. I'd owe you big time for that."

Maggie waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it," she said, turning toward the door. "C'mon, I'll grab a few for you. You're right; it's too hot for jeans. At least, for you city folks."

You followed her into the house before Maggie disappeared into another room, returning a minute later with a handful of sundresses draped over her arm. She held them out to you with a small smile. "Here. I doubt they'll fit perfectly, but they should be lighter than what you've got."

You took the dresses, running your fingers over the fabric as you smiled up at her. "These are perfect. Thanks, Maggie."

She shrugged, brushing it off. "No big deal. Like I said, I don't wear 'em anyway."

You held the dresses close, already imagining how they'd feel against your skin, how they'd cling just enough to make an impression without giving too much away. You knew exactly how you'd use them, and the thought sent a thrill through you.

"Seriously," you said, your smile widening. "Thank you."

Maggie nodded, her own smile small but genuine. "Anytime," she responded, her tone lighter now. "And hey—don't let Lori get to you, too. She doesn't need to drag you into her bullshit too."

You laughed softly, nodding. "Trust me, I'm staying out of it. And away from her."

She gave you one last look, then turned and headed toward the kitchen, leaving you standing there in the doorway with the dresses and a plan forming in your mind.

Maggie had no idea what she'd just handed you once you stepped back outside. And if things went the way you intended, neither would Rick—at least, not at first.

The next morning, you slipped into the sundress that clung to you the most like a second skin, its fabric so light it felt almost indecent. The hem barely grazed mid-thigh, and you couldn't help but smirk at the way it looked on you.

This wasn't just a dress—it was bait. Especially since you decided to wear nothing underneath.

You'd barely stepped out of your tent before the heat of the day and the sun beat down mercilessly. The farm was quiet for now, everyone busying themselves with chores or trying to escape the relentless summer. It was the perfect opportunity to set your plan in motion.

You made your way toward the chicken coop, a basket in hand, one of the tasks you'd kept yourself occupied with as of late. Rick was nearby, fixing something with T-Dog, but you didn't look at him—not yet. Let him notice you first.

Crouching by the coop, you reached for an egg near the far corner, deliberately leaning in farther than necessary. The hem of the dress lifted just enough to expose the curve of your naked ass, the sun warming your skin. You pretended not to notice as you heard footsteps slow down behind you before turning to glance over your shoulder. Rick stood several feet away, holding a tool, his expression unreadable.

"Morning, Rick," you said casually, your lips curving into the hint of a smile.

He cleared his throat, nodding. "Morning. You, uh... need any help with that?"

You shook your head, holding up an egg. "Think I can handle it just fine. But thanks." Your tone was sweet, almost innocent, but you knew what you were doing.

Rick blinked several times and gave you another nod before turning back toward T-Dog.

For just a second, his mind betrayed him—an image burning itself into it that was just too quick to stop. You, bent over right there in the dirt, the dress pushed up around your waist, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. His cock buried so deep inside you, those soft little noises you'd whimper, and the feeling of your hot, sweat-slicked skin in the heat of the sun.

Rick swallowed hard, shaking it off like a man burned. Fuck. He needed to get his head on straight.

You bit back a grin as you watched him walk away, his shoulders all tense, his grip on the tool just a little too strong.

Gotcha.

The rest of the day passed in much the same way. You found little excuses to be near him, brushing by just close enough for your bare arm to graze his, or bending over to grab something at just the right angle to make his gaze wander. Every time, his reaction was the same—quick glances, tense shoulders, and a faint blush that made its way to his cheeks.

By the time the sun began to set slowly, you were sitting on the porch with one leg crossed over the other, staring out at the farm and admiring the beautiful surroundings until you were sure no one was really around anymore.

Waiting until Rick was alone now, especially with Shane nowhere in sight, you adjusted the straps of the sundress, letting it slip just a little further down your shoulders, and walked toward him.

"Rick?" You called out, your voice soft enough that he had to turn fully to hear you. His eyes looked up, immediately following the curves of your body before moving back to your face. He hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard.

"Yeah?" He replied, quite distracted.

You stopped a few feet away from him, tilting your head. "This may sound weird, but I was wondering… Shane's usually the one teaching people how to shoot, right?"

Rick nodded slowly, his brows furrowing. "Yeah. Shane's the best instructor I know. I've seen him teach kids even younger than Carl. Why?"

"Well, I thought maybe I should learn, too. I know, I know... I can shoot, but I was thinking it wouldn't hurt to learn it from someone who actually knows how to handle a weapon. You know, in case I ever need to protect myself even better." You smiled sweetly, shifting your weight to one hip so the fabric of your dress clung more to your curves. "But Shane's nowhere to be found. I think he's away and teaching Andrea today; I'm not sure. Think you could show me?"

Rick's jaw twitched as he glanced past you as if looking for an escape. "I... yeah, I haven't seen him half of the day, either, and Andrea neither, so I guess I could do that. But not for long. The sun is setting already. C'mon, follow me."

You grinned, stepping a little closer. "Thanks, Sheriff Grimes. I'd feel a lot safer knowing I can really handle a gun. You never know when things might go south, after all." Your hand touched his arm lightly as he turned, leading the way toward the area they chose for training.

By the time you reached the spot, Rick handed you a silenced pistol, his fingers brushing yours. His hand lingered just a second too long, and you caught the slight hitch in his breath as you turned it over in your hands.

"Alright," he said, stepping behind you. "First, you need to get a good grip on it. Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire. Always treat it like it's loaded. Never point it at anything you don't want to shoot. Got it?"

You pretended to fumble with the gun, tilting it awkwardly in your hand. "Like this?" You asked, glancing over your shoulder at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Rick sighed, stepping closer until his chest almost pressed against your back. "No," he grumbled. "Here, let me..."

His hands slid over yours, guiding your fingers into place. His touch was firm, and you leaned back ever so slightly, your ass pressing against his hips.

Rick just froze.

You bit your lip, trying to appear oblivious as you shifted again, this time pressing yourself more insistently against him. The fabric of the dress left nothing between you, and you didn't miss the way he stiffened—not just his body, but the unmistakable hardness of his cock growing against you.

"Careful. Stand still."

"Sorry," you answered, shifting just enough to grind back against him, pretending to be clumsy. "I guess I'm not as good at this as I thought."

His hands tightened on your arms. "Stop that," he said, hissing slightly, but his voice betrayed him. It was strained like he was fighting with himself.

You didn't stop. You pressed back again, slower this time, letting the movement seem unintentional. "Stop what?" You asked, your voice soft and sweet, playing dumb.

Rick groaned softly, the sound barely audible, but you caught it. "Put…" He growled, stepping back suddenly. "Put the gun down. And follow me."

You obeyed, putting the gun down and letting him lead you toward the chicken coop.

It felt like Rick's hand was swallowing yours whole as he yanked you along, half-dragging, half-guiding you further behind the chicken coop. His boots crunched against the dry dirt, and your sandals barely made a sound as you stumbled to keep up.

The second you were fully out of sight, Rick spun on you, backing you into the wall. The coop creaked under the sudden impact, dust kicking up between the cracks. The secluded spot was shaded with shadows by now, with only the last rays of sunlight shining onto the ground.

"The hell do you think you're doin'?" His voice was strained, every word coming out with irritation.

You blinked up at him, pretending to be innocent, but your lips couldn't help but curl into a smirk. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

His eyes were dropping for a split second—just a second—to your breasts, where the sundress clung to your skin, nipples already hard.

He didn't even bother hiding it now.

Rick turned on you, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you.

"I just asked you… What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You shrugged. "And I don't know what you mean. What are you talking about, Rick?"

"The hell you don't," he shot back, stepping closer.

You took a step closer as well, your heart pounding in your chest. "So what if I do?" You challenged him, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you gonna do about it, Sheriff Grimes?"

His eyes narrowed just slightly before he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not painful. "You don't understand," he said, his voice rough. "You're—"

"An adult," you cut in, rolling your eyes. "I'm not even a teenager anymore! And I'm damn well not a fucking child! Stop pretending I am!"

His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours. Your lips parted, but no words came out. The heat in his gaze made your stomach flutter, the sheer anger in them somehow making your knees weak.

"Sorry..." You blinked up at him. "But I just wanted to learn how to shoot. How to be even better at shooting, I mean."

"Oh, don't play dumb," he snapped back. "You're getting way too close—"

"Too close?" You cut off his words as you pressed your chest against his. "I don't think it's close enough, Rick."

"No. This ain't right. You're just—"

"Don't," you interrupted again. "Don't. I'm not. And you know it."

His resolve cracked. His breath was brushing along your cheek as he leaned in, closer than before, but with that same stern look on his face. "You think I didn't notice? Walking around in that little dress, no fuckin' bra, no damn panties. Flashing' your ass, rubbing' up on me with your tits like some goddamn—"

"Like some what?" You interrupted, tilting your head. "Say it."

Rick's nostrils flared. He didn't know what to answer, didn't know how to act, but that smirk on your face?

That made him act.

Rick's hand shot out, gripping your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His other hand shoved up beneath your dress, squeezing the curve of your naked ass.

"Fuckin' knew it," he hissed like he was angry at himself for being right.

But he didn't move away. His thumb was pressing against your hipbone, the callouses of it scratching your skin.

"You think I ain't got more important shit to deal with right now?" He snapped, but it was weak, crumbling. "Like searching for Sophia?"

"Of course you do. But you also need to relax from time to time, Rick," you purred, voice as sweet as syrup, fingers sliding up his chest, feeling his heart beating through the sweat-damp fabric. "You're wound up so tight, it's gotta hurt after a while."

He laughed—loud, humorless. "Yeah? And you think you're the solution?"

You leaned in, lips ghosting over the stubble on his jaw. "I could be."

Rick's hand slid higher, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, dragging your body closer until your hips met his. You felt it—his cock—hard and thick, pressing against your stomach. He wasn't fooling anyone.

But still, he held back, teeth grinding.

"This isn't a good idea," he muttered, voice strained.

You rolled your hips, slow and deliberate, grinding against him, feeling the twitch in his cock through his pants. "Feels like a good idea to me."

"Jesus f-fuck…" He stuttered, but he didn't move.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, your smirk softening into a warm smile. "Unless… you can't handle it."

Rick's eyes snapped to yours. For a moment, the world stood still—the distant voices near the house, the rustle of leaves, and even the clucking of chickens felt far away.

He leaned in, so close his lips barely brushed yours when he spoke.

"Don't fuckin' test me. This is wrong." His voice was almost a growl. "I got a wife. I got a son."

You could feel the words scraping his throat like they physically hurt coming out.

"Oh, now you remember?" You shot back, eyes narrowing. "That didn't stop you from staring every damn time I bent over. Since Atlanta."

Rick flinched, just barely, but it was there. His grip slipped for half a second before tightening again.

"Don't—"

"What? Tell the truth? You don't want me to tell the truth?" You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper again. "You've been watching me. You think I didn't notice? The way your eyes stared at me, the way you tensed up when I walked by?"

Rick's jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might dislocate itself.

"Doesn't matter," he spat out, like saying it again would make it real, make it matter. "I'm married."

"Yeah? And Lori's really faithful, huh?"

His whole body went still. Rigid.

"Just," he warned, but his voice had lost its bite. "Just stop it."

"I'm just saying!" You tilted your head. "Maybe I'm not the only one who's been looking for… comfort. And I bet you know it and knew it for some time now."

Rick didn't say a word. His grip on you loosened for a second, and that was all the opening you needed.

"What's the matter, Rick? Don't like hearing the truth? You really think Shane's out there teaching Andrea how to shoot right now? Or is he too busy teaching Lori how to fuck like a married woman should? Who knows, right?"

Rick's breath hitched—just barely—but it was enough.

"Yeah. That's what I thought. You're really still holding onto that lie of a marriage, aren't you?" You pressed, leaning in just a little closer. "That picture-perfect family you've convinced yourself is still intact while the world's gone to shit?"

You didn't miss how his chest rose and fell faster, heavier.

"Fuck you," he spat, but it wasn't anger—it was defeat. Frustration.

"Maybe you should."

That was it.

He lunged forward, smashing his mouth against yours, teeth clashing, lips bruising. It wasn't a kiss—it was punishment, it was desperation, it was everything all at once.

His hands were everywhere—one tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, the other gripping your ass so hard you swore he'd leave marks.

You gasped against him, but it only opened you up for more, his tongue forcing its way past your lips, deep and unforgiving.

Your hands clawed at his shirt, nails scraping against the sweaty fabric, trying to pull him closer, closer, like there was any space left between you.

Rick shoved you harder against the chicken coop wall as you hooked a leg around his hip, grinding up against the length of his hard cock.

"Just… just keep it quiet," he growled against your skin. "Or someone'll hear."

But the risk made it more exciting.

Your hips ground into his, chasing friction, and Rick groaned, biting down on your shoulder to muffle it in desperation. He seemed caught between wanting to shove you away and drag you closer.

"This isn't right…" He whispered, more to himself than to you. His hands kept you in place, fingers digging into your body. "You may be an adult, but you're still too young for me."

You huffed a laugh, breathing against his neck. "But not too young for you to stare at, huh?"

Both his hands moved before his mind could catch up, gripping your hips and suddenly lifting you like you weighed nothing. You gasped, both of your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, the sundress riding up to your hips, leaving nothing between you but his jeans straining against his cock.

Rick slammed you back against the chicken coop with force before his mouth was on yours again—messy, wet, desperate. One hand anchored under your ass while the other slid up, muffling the needy sounds coming from your lips against his shoulder.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before he was undoing his belt with one hand, fumbling, cursing quietly under his breath. The sound of it opening, the noise of a zipper, and then he was free, thick and hard, pressing hard and insistent against you, twitching and leaking.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, forehead pressed to yours, his breathing ragged.

"This is your last chance to tell me to stop," he growled out, barely holding it together.

Your answer was a slow, greedy roll of your hips against him.

That was all it took.

Rick pushed into you in one hard, punishing thrust, splitting you open around him, filling you so deep with his cock that it knocked the breath straight from your lungs.

Your muffled cry was swallowed against his shoulder still, his hand on the back of your head pushing you against him, his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck to silence the groan that tore from his own throat.

"Shit," he hissed, voice ragged, hips slamming into yours again, harder this time as you clamped your legs around his hips. "So fuckin' tight..."

You clung to him, nails digging into his back, feeling the rough slide of his pants against the backs of your thighs with every brutal, deep thrust.

The chicken coop creaked behind you, every slap of his hips against yours making you think the noise may be way too loud in the warm summer air.

"Stay quiet," he growled again, but his voice was shaky, desperate. His hand didn't leave the back of your head, his palm sweaty against your disheveled hair.

But the risk—the sheer danger and wrongness of it—only made you feel higher.

Anyone could walk by. Carol. Shane. Dale. Anyone else from the group. Even the Greenes.

But Rick didn't stop. Didn't slow down.

His grip on you tightened, bruising, holding you open and steady for him, driving into you over and over, harder, deeper.

The heat, the sweat, the sound of his labored breathing in your ear—it was overwhelming, delicious. And exactly what you wanted.

"Goddamn it…" He cursed to himself, his face still buried in your neck, teeth scraping against your sensitive skin.

But still, he held back. His pace was slow and deep, but he wasn't chasing the end of it—of this—not yet.

It was punishment. It was control.

And it was slipping.

The way his breath hitched, the ragged growls that tore from his throat—he was losing it, and you could feel it.

His hand remained firm against your mouth, but it wasn't as tight as before. His chest rose and fell quickly as if the restraint was killing him. His eyes, when he pulled his head back to look at you, opened for a moment. They were wild, like a man fighting against a storm that was brewing inside himself.

"You need to stop," he groaned, but the words sounded weak.

You arched into him, bouncing up and down on his cock in perfect rhythm, urging him on as you held on tight. "Me? And what about you? Are you sure you can, Rick?" Your voice was sweet and teasing, and it made his breath hitch. "You've been staring at me all this time. You've been fuckin' dreaming about this, haven't you?"

"Don't push me."

But you didn't listen. You never did.

One of your hands slid from his shoulder, down his chest, feeling him tense up even more. Slowly, you ran your fingers over his abs, letting him fuck you just the way he wanted to.

"What would Lori think if she saw us like this?" You suddenly whispered, eyes looking up to meet his as you bit your lower lip, leaning in closer. "Does she ever wonder why you look at me like that? Why you don't stop staring when I walk past? You think she's worried?"

Rick's whole body went still for a moment, but he stayed inside you. He let out a deep, controlled breath, but his eyes never left yours. You could see the fight in him, the battle to do the right thing, to not cross that line. But it was already crossed—crossed faster than he'd ever care to admit.

You moved your hips against his all over, dragging a moan from him as your legs tightened around his waist. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

The words were poison, but Rick was too far gone to stop himself from letting them sink in.

"Don't… don't talk about her."

You smirked, feeling a rush of power, the heat of the moment making your heart race faster. "But it's true, isn't it, Rick? She doesn't need to know about us. She's too busy with Shane, right? You wouldn't be here if you didn't know. You wouldn't want this if…"

His eyes narrowed at the mention of Shane, and you saw the doubt on his face. But then his hips moved, fucking into you harder, faster, almost like he was trying to drown out the words you'd said.

You slid one hand up to his face, fingers moving slowly along the line of his jaw, urging him to look at you. "You want this. You want me. You can't stop yourself, and I know it."

His hands clenched on your body, as if the weight of your words was pushing him further into that abyss he'd been fighting against. The pulse between your legs grew unbearable, the need for him, the craving for him deeper than before. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his body barely holding on, his legs trying not to buckle, but still not giving in.

"You're wrong…" He groaned, but his eyes told a different story. His breath was coming faster now, uneven, like he was trying to resist the inevitable. But the heat between you both couldn't be ignored.

Your mouth found his again, lips teasing, pressing against his in slow, sensual kisses. You moved against him once more, slow and deliberate, until he hissed, his grip tightening once again.

"Am I? Because… I think you like this," you whispered against his lips, your breath coming in shallow bursts of moans. "I think you like knowing you could still fuck me even with all the other shit going on. You love it."

His lips trembled against yours, him thrusting into you like he was trying to rid himself of any thought other than this, just the two of you at this moment.

"Because you've been teasing' me all damn day," he whispered as if he was choking on the words. "Walking around like that, letting me see everything—"

"Wanted you to look," you gasped, bouncing harder on him, shameless. "Wanted you to fuck me."

"Goddamn dress," Rick moaned as he squeezed you harder, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you faster. "Knew you weren't wearin' a fuckin' thing under this. Knew you wanted me to see it."

"I did," you gasped, your words broken. "Wanted you to—oh, fuck—do this!"

Rick's mouth found your neck, his beard scraping against your sensitive skin as he bit and kissed a sloppy trail along your throat. You could feel him everywhere—his hands, his cock, his lips—taking you in a way that was so raw and desperate that it left you trembling and made it hard for your legs to keep holding on.

You bucked against him, rolling your hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust as your moans grew a little bit louder, but Rick silenced you by crashing his mouth to yours, his tongue sliding against yours with the same urgency as his movements.

"I feel you," he then groaned against your lips, his voice cracking. His grip on your ass softened slightly as if he couldn't decide between fucking you senseless or worshipping you. "You're close, aren't you? You're gonna come for me, won't you?"

"Y-yes," you whimpered quietly, your nails raking over his shoulders through his shirt. "Rick, don't stop—please, don't stop—not now."

His thrusts stopped for half a second, and then he suddenly slowed down, his thrusts deep and on purpose now, dragging out the feeling with every inch of his cock sliding into you. One of his hands slipped from your ass back to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer, grinding his hips into yours so you could feel every bit of him.

"Come for me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice was softer now, gentler, but no less commanding. "Let me feel you... Let me see you fall apart on me."

You shattered with a silent cry, eyes wide, your body clenching around him as your orgasm ripped through you. Rick groaned, his grip tightening on you again as he kept moving, drawing out every shiver and whimper.

But he didn't stop. Not yet. You felt him still holding back, his cock throbbing inside you, a tiny drop of sweat rolling down his face. His thrusts slowed even further, almost agonizingly sensual now as if he was savoring every second.

"Rick…" You whispered, your voice hoarse, your fingers trying to hold on to his shoulders again. His eyes met yours once more, searching, and questioning, before he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his thrusts slowing to a halt as he fought to regain control.

"I can't," he stammered. "Not yet."

He was still fighting it. Fighting you. And himself.

You shifted slightly, a sensual roll of your hips that made him hiss through his teeth. "Don't," he groaned, his voice strained. "You don't understand what you're doing, what this is gonna—"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," you interrupted. "I've been waiting for this all day, Rick. For so damn long. Don't hold back on me now."

Before he could protest, you were gripping his shoulders even harder. With one slow motion, you lifted yourself, feeling every inch of his cock slide out of your pussy, only to drop back down hard, taking him to the hilt again before starting to bounce up and down.

Rick cursed, the sound ripping from his throat as his head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut. His control cracked instantly, both his hands now holding on to your ass, gripping you like a lifeline as you were the one to set a punishing rhythm this time. You rode him with everything you had, grinding down on him as you bounced, the muscles of your thighs burning with the effort but your need driving you harder.

Each thrust drove him deeper, the head of his cock brushing against your G-spot that made you shudder and clench around him, tearing more broken curses from his lips.

"Goddamn it," he growled, his voice shaking. "You're gonna—fuck—you're gonna make me—"

"That's the idea," you gasped, your nails raking down his shoulders and back. "Don't fight it, Rick. Let go."

His eyes snapped open, full of desperate need that sent a thrill through you. He was close, so close to the edge, and you wanted to push him over. You kept riding him, harder, faster, until his hands trembled against your ass, his breathing turning into whimpering, uneven moans.

And then, just as he tensed, his body going rigid beneath you, you stopped.

Rick's eyes flew open in shock, his hips jerking up instinctively as he chased the orgasm you'd just denied him. But you were already sliding off him with a smirk on your face.

He stood there with his pants shoved halfway down his hips, his cock hard and throbbing in your grip. His chest rose and fell like he'd just run a marathon, and yet, he still had this damn look on his face. Like he was trying to convince himself that none of this was happening. That he wasn't about to let you do this.

He'd already failed. Miserably.

"Rick…" You whispered, your voice teasing him on purpose, lips kissing the tip of his leaking cock as you looked up at him. Your fingers tightened their hold while sliding up his shaft, smearing the pre-cum around the tip.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. For a second, his eyes looked out into the distance, scanning the open fields and the rest of the farm beyond the chicken coop. Guilt was seen on his face, written all over it, his jaw clenching.

But then his gaze dropped back to you, to your lips. To where you knelt in the dirt, the sundress bunched around your thighs, one hand holding his throbbing cock, and he knew there wasn't a single thing in the world that could stop him from wanting this right now.

"But… this isn't right," he still rasped, and his body betrayed him, a bead of pre-cum dripping down as you dragged your thumb along his tip again.

"Sure," you mumbled, leaning in to let your tongue lick across the head of his cock. He hissed through his teeth, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to pull you back but couldn't. "Because standing here with your dick in my hand after fucking me is real loyal of you, huh?"

Rick remembered Atlanta, finding Lori and Carl alive, the sheer relief that had made him feel like everything was about to feel right in the world again. But that feeling had disappeared quickly, hadn't it?

He hadn't forgotten the way Shane had acted—shocked, possessive, protective, too close to Carl and his wife. And Lori? Somewhat distant and confused. He wasn't stupid. He could see it. Feel it. Something had been broken long before he ever came back.

And now here you were. Young, bold, shameless. A part of him wanted to shove you away, to walk the hell back to the farmhouse, and pretend this never happened.

But you looked up at him like he was the last man on Earth. Like he was everything. And that hunger in your eyes—he hadn't felt wanted and desired like that in years. Maybe ever.

You leaned in again, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, dragging it up slowly, savoring every inch of him like he was only yours to take. Rick groaned, his hand snapping out to grab the back of your head.

"Fuck—don't stop," he breathed, his voice cracking.

You wrapped your lips around his cock, taking him in deep, slow at first, letting him feel the wet heat of your mouth. His hips bucked involuntarily, his shaft pushing deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

But when you raised your hand to grip him tighter again, Rick growled, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away. "Don't," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Instead, he gripped himself, holding his cock steady as he pressed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum across them. "Open," he ordered.

You did, letting your lips part wide, your tongue sliding out to meet him. Rick groaned again, his head falling back for a moment as he guided his cock into your mouth, pushing in deeper this time, fucking into your mouth slowly.

"Shit," he hissed through his teeth, his free hand still tangling in your hair as he held you still. "You—shit—you feel so goddamn good."

Your hands rested on his thighs now, nails digging in as you let him set the pace. It was messy, wet, sloppy. Spit dripped from the corners of your mouth, sliding down your chin as he thrust shallowly, just enough to keep himself right on the edge.

Rick couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't stop.

All he could see was you—on your knees, looking up at him with those innocent eyes, lips stretched around his cock, taking him like you were made for it. And it felt so good it was almost unbearable.

"God, what the hell am I doing…" He groaned quietly, his hips trembling. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Not when you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, harder, your tongue working over him like you wanted to suck him empty.

His grip on your hair tightened, his cock twitching in your mouth as he fought to keep control. But when you moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight through him, he lost it.

Rick pulled back suddenly, his cock slipping from your mouth with a wet pop. You looked up at him, lips shiny, cheeks all red and flushed, as he stroked himself, his hand wet with your spit.

"You're gonna make me come," he groaned, his eyes locked on your lips.

He pressed the tip of his cock to your lips again, smearing the pre-cum across them, down your chin, his strokes turning faster and rougher. You opened your mouth, trying to take him back in, but Rick held you still, teasing himself against your lips, the head of his cock nudging against your tongue.

And then he came.

A loud moan escaped his throat as his cum shot all across your lips, so warm and thick. You stuck your tongue out, catching what you could, swallowing it greedily as he smeared the rest across your lips with the tip of his cock.

Rick was shaking, his body trembling as he pumped himself through it, every bit of tension leaving him as he watched you lick your lips clean, swallowing every drop.

He stood there, chest heaving, staring down at you like he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"Shit," he whispered, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

You stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off your knees and adjusting the sundress. Rick's eyes followed your every move, staying on your lips, your throat, and the curve of your breasts. He looked like a man torn in two, his guilt battling with his loyalty.

"This… can't happen again," he said, finally breaking the silence. "Shouldn't."

You smirked, stepping closer, your hand moving along his chest, fingers toying with the open collar of his shirt before dropping to the waistband of his pants. The belt still hung loose, his zipper still undone, and you tugged on the leather lightly.

"Whatever you say, Sheriff Grimes."

Rick sucked in a quick breath as you leaned in, your lips kissing his cheek lightly. And then, just like that, you pulled back and walked away.

The sundress moved and swayed in the wind with every step, the warm summer breeze lifting it just enough to reveal your naked ass once more.

Rick stood there for a long moment, his chest still heaving, his mind a mess of want and guilt and so many more feelings he couldn't even name.

He reached down, adjusting himself with a shaky hand, tucking his cock back into his pants. The belt slipped from his fingers once before he managed to buckle it, fumbling with the leather as his legs threatened to give out again, not yet closing the zipper. Finally, he leaned back against the chicken coop, dragging his hands over his face.

What the hell had he just done?

His throat was dry, his whole body still shaking with the feeling of your touch. He'd always thought of himself as a good man, hadn't he? A loyal husband. A good father.

But standing there, with his pants still half-open and the taste of sin on his lips, he didn't feel like either.

As soon as Rick was about to leave, a sudden movement caught his eye, and his stomach dropped, twisting itself into a tight knot that made him want to vomit on the spot.

Shane.

The other man was walking back toward the tents, Andrea at his side and stumbling slightly behind him. Shane looked casual like he didn't have a care in the world, but as he looked around to scan the surroundings for any danger, his eyes immediately stayed on Rick.

For a second, they just stared at each other.

He felt exposed, uncomfortable, like Shane could see everything—the guilt written all over his face, the smell of sex still clinging to his skin and his clothes.

And then Shane's head moved, his eyes following Rick's line of sight.

You.

You were halfway back with walking to the tents now, the sundress fluttering in the breeze again, the curve of your bare ass showing itself for another second. Shane tilted his head, his expression unreadable, his mouth twitching like he was holding back a loud laugh.

Rick saw it, though. Right there, on Shane's face. Amusement? Judgment? Maybe a little of both.

By now, Rick felt like he was suffocating under the weight of it all—Lori, Carl, you, Shane. Everything.

Because Shane was no saint. He knew that. It was like you had said before; he knew it for some time now. His best friend had slept with Lori, and maybe even wanted to take his place. But right now? Rick wasn't sure he was any better than him.

Rick pushed himself off the chicken coop, his boots kicking the dirt as he turned toward the farmhouse. He didn't say a word as he passed Shane, didn't even look at him.

But he could feel Shane's eyes on him, the smirk burning into the back of his skull like a brand.

And as Rick walked back toward the tent where Lori was sleeping with Carl at her side, his fists clenched and his heart pounding, and his mouth tasted dry—no, worse—like you.

It tasted like sin—devouring him whole.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I wrote this a bit quicker than usual. I know, I know, I’m a slow writer, sorry about that! Please bear with me. I tried my best to clean up any repetition or grammar mistakes, and since this is my first Rick Grimes oneshot in a while, I’m honestly a little nervous to even share it. I still feel like there might be some missing details or areas that could’ve been expanded more, but I hope you still enjoyed it.

SONG RECOMMENDATION ⁀➴ 「VANDENBERG ⋮ SIN」

[suchine-toki]

Thoughts about gintsu in the Silver Soul arc

The other day I saw someone talk about how Sorachi neglected gintsu after the Love Potion arc so here's my two cents (spoilers ahead):

Short answer: Yesn't

Long answer:

The argument was that Sorachi just dropped the ball on Gintoki and Tsukuyo's relationship that he started writing since… her introduction. And I'm not gonna pretend that LP wasn't the last arc that gave them a ton of development. But I think we've to look at it within the series' context.

Love Potion was the 62th arc of Gintama, spanning chapters 492-496. It was the second to last arc before Shogun Assassination, that began in lesson 502. This meant that it was something Sorachi felt he'd to do before he reached the point of no return. In other words, before the end, he'd to develop the relationship between Gintoki and Tsukuyo and give them some sort of resolution.

Said resolution can be interpreted in two ways. Essentially, something could happen in the future, or nothing would ever happen between them. Nada. But that's not the point of this. OR IS IT??

After that, Sorachi had to address major plot points throughout the next three arcs. Gintoki and Takasugi's fight, the Shogun's death, the Shinsengumi disbanding, Utsuro's rise as the final villain, Kagura and Kamui's showdown, the reunion of the Joui 4...

All of these things were crucial to the plot, but took a long time to unfold. Finally, when Tsukuyo reappeared in Silver Soul arc, a lot of time had passed (lesson 620, over a hundred chapters later). And the first thing Sorachi chooses to do is to have her help Gintoki and make a sex joke. Ok, nothing new in this manga, I guess.

But what was surprising was this one heavy panel that people wouldn't stop talking about at the time, because it really left no room for interpretation. Yes, it was Hinowa who said it, but, again, this was written by someone, and that someone didn't intend this to be a light tease.

Sorachi had no need to do so if he'd already closed the door on future possibilities between them and we already knew she'd feelings for him. And yet, he dedicated several pages to showing the struggle she'd with leaving Yoshiwara to go help Gintoki and the rest of her friends in Kabukicho.

In LP she realized she was in love, but she still felt embarrassed and stupid because of it, and Kyuubei had to tell her hey, it's ok. Throughout the series, although Tsukuyo loves Gintoki, she often needed reasons to be with him. Sometimes it was because of her duty as Yoshiwara's guardian, sometimes because she's with her girl friends, sometimes even Hinowa created these reasons. But this chapter addresses how dumb it is. In LP arc, Gintoki was around just because.

In other words, at this point, Sorachi continued to develop their relationship, even after that arc. But did something else happen?

Well, after a while, when Gintoki was resting peacefully on his futon, Sorachi has Tsukuyo conveniently trip over a damn bottle containing alcohol right next to the guy, all during a dialogue explaining how in times of power outages and such, the population increases. So the joke here was that they would fuck and Gintoki would get her pregnant like heyooo? (ch. 628).

But that would be it? Their last moment being a high-caliber sex joke before the end of the manga?

The thing is... the manga didn't end there lol it lasted about 70 more chapters. Here Sorachi once again needed to address some loose plot ends before finishing the series that took priority, like Gintoki and Takasugi's bond and what would happen with Shouyo/Utsuro.

We might think that there're no loose ends between Gintoki and Tsukuyo anymore. We already know she's in love with him, so why bother?

HOWEVER Sorachi once again decided to hit us with something (and quite sappy this time, in a good way)...

When they meet again, there's a flashback in which Gintoki leaves and Hinowa asks Tsukuyo why she didn't follow him (ch. 686). She replies that she decided to stay because yes, she has a duty, but the main reason was to tell him what had happened in his absence... LITERALLY THERE WAS NO NEED FOR IT TO BE SO CHEESY, but then again Sorachi wanted us to know what Tsukuyo had gone through and he wanted Gintoki to hear it too.

This is another way to show how real and deep her love is and how she understands what Gintoki is going through on a fundamental level. Sorachi wanted to show how Tsukuyo knows that Gintoki needed to embark on his journey alone, otherwise he wouldn't have disbanded the Yorozuya. She knows that it's important to him that someone be there and update him on what has happened, so that he feels connected to everyone again. And Sorachi chose that someone to be Tsukuyo, making explicit how she's an anchor for Gintoki here.

This time it wasn't because she needed a big reason or because she felt stupid, it was her own decision, which is huuuge for her and what could happen.

So now that she knows for sure he's in Edo, she's going to help him with everyone else. There's also the idea of endings and new beginnings that Tsukuyo talks about, which could also apply to her dynamic with Gintoki, but that's a talk for another day.

The last thing to mention is when they're at the terminal and Sacchan teases Tsukuyo about the man she loves... You know, the woman who's been stalking Gintoki since the beginning... And it's really dumb, because everyone is saying these heartfelt lines, talking about how they want to reach him, how they want to help him... and Sorachi, instead of having Sacchan tell a dirty joke about herself, like she always does, has her say something about how Tsukuyo should fuck Gintoki, or vice versa, does it matter at this point? (ch. 699).

And it's not just a sex joke as before. Contrary to the sentiment expressed in lesson 620, here Tsukuyo intends to go on living and see Gintoki again, which is something said by herself.

From what I can tell, Sorachi wanted to keep giving their relationship some form of development right up until the end. Even after committing to an open ending, the fact that he kept their dynamic in mind, even with limited interactions, just to push it forward in some way is honestly kinda sweet, ngl.

Tsukuyo isn't a character Sorachi uses a lot, probably because she's not as available as the rest of the cast living in or near Kabukicho. And yet, almost every time she appears, he develops the bond that Gintoki has with her. You can tell that some scenes, heck, even some lines, are quite deliberate to be read romantically.

If anything, we could say that the real problem was that we didn't get much from Gintoki in the last stretch, which I think could be attributed to both the in-universe context of the series and the time constraints and difficulties Sorachi faced in finishing Gintama.

(Sorry this ended up being so much longer that I intended lol.)

TL;DR: It's not that he forgot, Sorachi just had bigger priorities. In any case, he still threw in scenes JUST to show how he didn't forget and develop their relationship a little more.

[nymphrasis]

Today has not been a good day, tbh.

I managed to get one art made but then irl decided to just make me feel miserable. So I haven't been feeling the greatest.

I do appreciate my partner being here in voice chat to keep comfort.

[jaxadaisical]

Ohoho? What do we have here?

Had his words triggered something in her? The jester made it incredulous easy to read her like a simple magazine to flip through. In truth, he spoke those words in innocence. Zero implications were hidden behind his intentions buuut he was starting to reevaluate his stance when Pomni decided to act as if he'd just asked her the most scandalous thing possible. He'd be a fool not to lean into it more, see how far this rabbit hole of reactions led him.

The lilac rabbit with a proud brow raised had crept closer into her space from where he sat, using a single glove planted on the ground between them as leverage at seeing her tomato-pasted face further. She could be real cute sometimes. Who knew she was a deranged individual as well? Then again, who wasn't all mad in this circus with doned masks and pasts to hide?

Her gaze still refused to acknowledge him so he did her one better and in a low, gruff voice to make things even worse, he whispered.

⸺ ❝ Didn't take ya as a dirty thinker, shortstack. Thought you were just some sweet, innocent girl who could do no wrong. Who would've thought the simple word "stretch" would make ya squirm. My offer was to truly just help ya get taller, scout's honor, but if ya have other things in mind... I can see about making your wildest dreams come true. ❞

There was no merit to his words, no ulterior motive; but if it meant seeing the small woman before him lose her shit with him even more, it'd be all worth its while. Jax couldn't imagine going this far off the deep end for anyone else - Pomni really had him wrapped around her little finger, huh? And to make matters at hand even worse for her, his grin widened and he blew a small gust of cool air on her cheek near where her ear would be to intermingle with her heated apples.

⸺ ❝ Haha, gross! Don't say something like that. I would never kiss Caine. ❞

And in the midst of the easier environment, Pomni found herself slightly pushing at the rabbit's shoulder with both of her hands to showcase more on how the idea was something she couldn't wrap her mind around. It almost felt as if her opinion on Jax this whole time might've been wrong; he was actually kind of enjoyable to be around if she looked past the persona he held. The woman almost didn't take notice that she instigated touching him first, and she hadn't minded it.

But his next sentence absolutely turned her brain's switch off, completely rocking her straight off her hinges. Her face flared up and pinwheels shrank at the potential insinuation, she had to quickly look away before he caught wind of the inappropriate idea that mustered at his words.

... Oh god, what was wrong with her???

She went from finally allowing herself to relax a little in Jax's presence to suddenly feeling like she was dunked with a bucket of ice cold water then set ablaze right after. Her gaze refused his. It flustered her, and he probably didn't even mean it in that context. Just how depraved was she for her own subconscious to even dare steer down that route of thought? Her heart noticeably started racing in her ears.

⸺ ❝ ... As if I could get any taller, even with your help ... ❞

Pomni had to reiterate the initial topic a hand to more so convince herself, if anything, that Jax wouldn't ever try slipping an innuendo casually into conversation. Especially with her. But then again, how well does she even know him like she's led herself to believe that she does?

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

[oncewaserratic]

Amelia knew what people thought of her, and she knew just what people wanted to say behind her back as if she couldn't hear them. It was all a mess and she wasn't about to let this ruin anything else that was in her future. She knows people gossip about why her marriage with Owen didn't last. She knew it was her fault. She had a tumor before they got married, and once she got it released, she wasn't sure what she wanted but he wasn't it. Link was new and didn't really know anything about what had happened before, maybe that is why Amelia was all for them being there together and her getting to know him, especially after the night they shared.

Was Amelia looking for something? No she wasn't. But one night usually turns to more then one, and plus, it felt different from the other hook ups she has had. Maybe that is why she didn't shy away from wanting to do this. Sure she told him no, but in her mind she wanted to and she wanted to get to know him more, to see just where this could go with the both of them. Link was different and he didn't rush her, and he didn't get mad at the times she had said no and that is why they were there together, that night and maybe people might think she is rushing, but it meant she was all for opening the door for something new and Link was that. He didn't have a history there and all the things surrounding Amelia can just go away.

But being at dinner with someone who doesn't want to get to know her because of her brother was something new. Amelia knew her worth and Link, he had made her feel some sort of way she hasn't felt in a while. Maybe this was just someone paying her attention for who she is. She wasn't sure. But he also knew Link wasn't about the gossip and that meant he just allowed her to really just be herself and come to him when she was ready to talk. But hearing him, she couldn't help but smile. "Everyone does. Trust me. They see Shepherd and think of him, then they see me and then they realize I am not him. So it is a messed up cycle i just can't get around. So thank you for pretending to not know him, or maybe you don't. But it makes me feel better that someone wants to get to know me because of me, and not because of who he was." Maybe this was her showing vulnerability but it was nice to say the least. Herman, she has been the one case that Amelia has struggled with in a way.

"That is the thing, she didn't think she was going to live. Now she can't see and she lives a life she wants. So if someone ask me what I did, I wouldn't know what to say." Shrugging her shoulders and she took a drink of the drink that was in front of her. Amelia didn't think this was possible, and think that someone would want to be with her for who she is. "Do I though? Because everyone doesn't think as they have their mind made up and think I am moving on too fast. But you, as long as you're ready for a wild ride then we continue whatever this is. I am having a good time, and you make me happy. So, I don't care what people think, but it is more just I don't want it to be too much for you."

This was Amelia making herself happy. Link he was a nice guy and he deserved to see this part of her and see just where it goes. Sure, she played hard to get before everything else, but she wanted to see if he was interested in her and not just something else, and he was, so why not just be with someone who wanted her for her and not anything else. That was hard to find.

Continued storyline with @ofbuoyantortho

Amelia knew she was not like anyone else. When she had her tumor, one she didn’t know she had until she did the research Carina was doing. She thinks they might have been the one thing that had made her make the decisions he has made up until this point of her life. Amelia knew marrying Owen might have bene due to the tumor and her just feeling like it was the right thing to do. Now, the two of them were barely talking and they were never on the same page. They have never been on the same page, so it was all a mess. Now she was free the tumor and really just learning to live without the rash decisions for the most part. 

That is what made her want to go out the night before and she was looking for anything, but Link, well he kind of caught her eye and there she was sleeping with him the night. Not that Amelia thought it meant anything, it was all about releasing the stress of the job and just everything else that was going on. He was something else and it was all good things being he wasn’t like most guys she had went for. That might be why most of them didn’t work out. Ryan was the one she thought she loved but turned out it was just the drugs talking on that one. Owen was the tumor. 

Not that Amelia was looking to sleep with Link, but it jus happened and she wasn’t complaining. But what she didn’t expect was to see him at work so soon. It was all about her just getting to the point where she can look at him and now, she was going on a date with him. It took her sometime to agree, but she had no one holding her back but herself and not really seeing where things could lead. She has done that for far too long when it came to people because she was afraid tor really just let them see who she really was. But Link, he never rushed her but she felt this pull and so she had to see what it was about before turning him down and not seeing just where this could go. So was she crazy, maybe but she wanted to just get out and be with someone who didn’t like her for what she does but more for who she is and who they want to know. 

But when she got in that car she wasn’t expecting the music that was blaring from the speakers to come out. Not that she as judging, but she was just shocked and had to poke fun at him and the laugh coming from her said it all. She just wasn’t expecting that but Link was different and she can why now too. Amelia’s ears perk up hearing he has chaps and boots and she couldn’t help but smirk. “So — you really do own chaps. How did I know? I mean, you seem kind of like that guy outside of work, but I have to see them. I really do. Because I have to see this for my own eyes being I have never seen that. So, yes, put me on that list please. I need to see it.”

Laughing low and getting to the table for dinner and she was taken back by the place he chose and she sat across form him finally letting the facade cave and letting him see a glimpse of her and why she is the way she is. Her brother was one of her favorite people and yet he was no longer there and she didn’t really know how to comprehend that a lot, but she has come to terms and able to talk about it. “I didn’t get to say goodbye because Meredith took that away from me. She told no one, and she just made the choice without calling me. So that alone made me mad. She is his wife, but I am his family you know? It took so long for me to actually forgive her in a way. But I will never get that chance again and it just makes me mad in a way. So that is why her and I have an understanding but it doesn’t mean I will trust her with things.”

This is the first time Amelia had been open about that and really just telling someone. Maybe he wasn’t the right person, but since they were on the topic she might as well get it all out. “You really are a sweet talking aren’t you? You know how to make someone smile, and that alone makes me feel better then I have in so long. There’s a lot about me and m y life that people don’t know. So, you make me feel like I am in the place I am supposed to be.” Smiling and meeting his eyes she finally looks down at the menu wondering what she should get from this place. “So what do you suggest to eat in this place? I have never eaten here and want to try one of the best things here.”

[skyrigel]

Simon never knew when and how, but he knew he loved you, so it started with that flirty sloppy shoot-a-shot smile at the bar. One glass down and he was kissing you like there was nobody else in the room, one smoke by the alley and the next you were sucking him off in his car, maybe it should've ended there, Simon wasn't the one who liked taking girls home but something sparked and he thought, you deserved a nice comfy mattress if he was going to fuck you and okay, he did, he took you home and absolutely devoured you, he made a real mess out of you, pounding inside you like a feral werewolf, pistoning in and out like he would never get a second chance.

And it should've ended there but it didn't, you should've gone by the morning because the good ones never stayed but instead you were perched on the counter, swinging your legs, your body sore from last night and face blotchy with sleep and unwashed make-up and he was making eggs. He was making you breakfast as you rambled how Nicky stole your jacket, he had no idea who was Nicky but oh boy wouldn't he go to war to get back you jacket, because he will. You really should've been gone by afternoon but instead you were panting on the couch while his face was buried deep in your cunt, humming in your sweetness and sucking every bit nector you had for him. Simon didn't mind when you decided you wanted to make ravioli by the time evening drowned in the sky, from scratch and when you should be finding your clothes and leaving for once and for all, but instead Simon was putting the ingredients you called from your phone screen into the cart, walkin behind you. Two days later, you were putting in your dresses in his lonely-colourless wardrobe along with your favourite jacket, four days later, you were laughing because Simon never watched star wars, one week gone and he was braiding your hair and oiling your scalp, two weeks snapped and Simon was chasing you around the house while you ran with the cute Polaroid you had clicked while he was sleeping, Three weeks and Simon thought this is where you belonged, with him, he didn't know how and when but he did knew it was you, it could only be you.

Two years later and he's massaging your baby bump with cocoa butter, his eyes twinkling at you.

“I love you.” He says, just like that as you blink up from your tacos.

“I love you too sweetheart.” You cupped his cheek and watched him melt into your touch.

“I don't say it enough.” no, he's been constantly chanting it, sometimes whispering it in his sleep.

“You say it just fine.” You pulled his cheek, leaning back because you just felt little Riley baby moving inside.

“I am so blessed.” he looked solemnly, like he was replaying some memory in his mind, before kissing your tummy. So blessed.

Masterlist

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[mariasont]

i loved lipgloss!!! i was wondering if i could pls request smth where spencer walks in the BAU unaware of the lipgloss on his lips from kissing bimbo!receptionist or on his cheeks from being kissed then everyone's like "👀☝️🤨" (english isnt my first language im sorry😭)

STICKY SITUATIONS - S.R

a/n: back with the lipstick trope yeehaw, can't tell you all how much i appreicate u all and how patient u guys are with me when i ghost for like 5 months at a time. thank you so much for the request sug <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: spencer daydreaming about inappropriate things! PDA!

wc: 1.1k

Spencer woke up feeling untouchable, like nothing in the world could shake him. The kind of invincible where even the sky didn't seem like a limit. You had stayed the night, as you often did, and yet every time he woke up with you beside him, it felt like walking on air. Today was no exception.

You made sure he was late today--both of you were. He blamed you entirely, though he didn't mind. You pinned him down with a thousand little kisses, laughing as you insisted that it's essential for a day filled with good luck, and how else was he going to catch all the bad guys without a little charm from you?

Spencer's body vibrated like it was attuned to some invisible, higher frequency, one you alone could set. The smile threatening to break free felt inevitable, like a law of nature, as his mind drifted to thoughts of you--so unavoidable it was as if trying to pinpoint an electron's exact position and momentum in time. 

He had half a mind to swing by the reception desk just to see you. Just for a second. He'd convince himself it was enough, even though it never really was. Today, though? There was no chance he'd make it to his meeting. Not when you were wearing that skirt--his favorite. The one that fit you like it had been hand-stitched by hand for you alone, showing off your thighs in a way that made him picture them around his--

"Reid, you're—," Hotch's voice snapped him back into reality, his brows down turning as he regarded Spencer with a curious frown before shaking his head. "Late. C'mon."

Spencer followed Hotch into the conference room, their entrance as routine as ever--or so he assumed. But the moment they stepped inside, something shifted. The air crackled with stifled laughter, a ripple of poorly contained snickers breaking out across the team.

He froze mid-step, confusion knitting his brow as he scanned the room. His gaze flitted from face to face, trying to uncover the source of their amusement. The laughter, he realized with growing bewilderment, was somehow aimed squarely at him.

His pulse quickened as self-awareness kicked in, and his eyes darted downward, trying to detect the anomaly that had captured everyone's damn attention. A loose thread? A stain? Panic bloomed in his chest as he mentally ticked through a list of possibilities. His sweater seemed intact--no wayward strings. His pants were fine, no errant coffee stains or wrinkles. And his hair--well, his hair always had a mind of its own, but it wasn't that unruly today. Right?

Bastards.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, what did I miss?"

Emily tried--and failed--to stifle her laughter, shaking her head in disbelief. "I think you might need to go to look in the mirror, lover boy."

Spencer didn't bother questioning her. No explanation would be offered, at least not freely. He knew he'd get no real answers from this group, and honestly, he wasn't even sure he wanted them at this point. Instead, he slipped out of the conference room and headed down the hall, his mind a muddled tangle of confusion.

He was so distracted--so consumed with trying to figure out what he'd missed--that he nearly missed the sound of quick, approaching footsteps. It was only at the last second that he looked up, just in time for you to collide with him. His hands moved instinctively, catching your waist as you stumbled forward, stopping you from toppling over.

Spencer's breath caught. Gods know if you'd fallen in those heels, you'd be lucky to escape with just a sprained ankle. But you didn't fall. Instead, you let out a startled giggle as you looked up at him wide-eyed.

"Whoopsie," you said with a smile. "Hi there, handsome."

The instant the words left your lips, you clamped a hand over your mouth, fighting back a high-pitched squeal of laughter.

Spencer, even more bewildered, furrowed his brows in confusion. "Okay, what?"

"Hold still," you instructed, though your voice wavered between stifled giggles. You reached up for him, your fingertips hovering near his face.

He followed your hand with his eyes, still clueless, until you gently cupped his cheek. Whatever it was on his skin drew another wave of laughter from you, and in response, he prodded at your sides, each poke sending you into another fit of delighted squeals.

"Hey, that's not holding still, Dr.!" you gasped, halfheartedly swatting at his hands while you finished wiping away the last bit of whatever had clung to his face.

"Whoopsie daisy," you said again, still brushing invisible flecks from his cheek, your voice reminding him of what he envisioned sunshine poured into a teacup would manifest as. "Aw, Spence, looks like I kinda-sorta-maybe left a tiny little lipstick stain behind."

Your tone was drenched in honeyed innocence, as if this kind of thing just happened and you had no earthly clue how.

Spencer's eyes narrowed. "Is that why I've been subjected to my team's thinly veiled harassment?"

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped as if you'd just witnessed a high crime. "They were giving you trouble? Oh my gosh!" You pressed your fingertips to your lips. "Do I need to have a word with them?"

The determination in your voice sounded all too serious, and he was a little scared that you were actually prepared to march back to that conference room in your pretty heels and give the entire BAU a piece of your mind.

Spencer nearly chocked on a laugh. Of all possible reactions, yours was the sweetest, most fiercely protective--and downright hilarious. He held up a hand in a placating gesture, lips curving into a boyish grin. 

"Hmm, I appreciate the offer," he murmured, gently tapping his chin with a finger as if considering it. "However, I think you might need to have a word with the real culprit who decided my face should double as her personal canvas this morning."

"Me?" You pressed a hand dramatically to your heart. "I would never! I mean, sure, I might've given you a million good-luck kisses before you left, and maybe one or two... or three of my lip gloss stains decided to stick around, but that's hardly my fault!"

You shifted your weight to the balls of your feet and wiggled your fingers in a helpless sort of gesture. "That's just how good my gloss is, y'know?"

"Right," he replied, voice quieter now, eyes warm as they traced your face. "Clearly the lip gloss is at fault. We'll have to issue it a stern warning later."

"Exactly! Don't blame poor, innocent me." You paused, lowering your voice conspiratorially, leaning close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume. "And if any of the team give you grief again, you know where to find me!"

Spencer hummed, placing a light hand on the small of your back, steering you gently away from the corridor.

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, smiling as if the world had just aligned perfectly in that very hallway. "But for now, maybe we should try to make sure I get back to my meeting... gloss-free."

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