#I mean really how did he get his keys back

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Eddie drunkenly calls Buck from wine night, confesses some things. On ao3 here.

Eddie calls him at 11:34 pm, and it’s a Thursday, so that means a few things. It’s wine night, the biggest thing. It’s wine night, at Hen and Karen’s, and he knows those start around dinner time so Eddie’s got several hours of alcohol in him. It’s 11:34 pm and Buck got off work at 10:45, another thing, so it’s a toss up whether Eddie timed the call to when he was walking through the door (a feat possible after years of going back and forth between the station, the loft, and the Diaz house at all times of day and night) or if it’s just a drunken coincidence.

“Hello,” Buck answers the phone, dragging out the first half of the word, tossing his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice bright and not very slurred, but he’s only said one word so far, and Buck sometimes secretly thinks he could probably say his name pretty steadily no matter the situation. Buck is pretty sure he could be all drunk or half dead and still be able to say Eddie just fine, anyway. “Hello. Are you home from, did you get home from work?”

Ah, so, somewhat drunk then. “Did indeed. You still at the Wilsons?”

“Did you, uh- was there fire?” Eddie sounds like he’s trying very hard to sound normal. Buck bites his lip against a snort.

“No fires. Just a half shift, remember. Pretty boring one, honestly.” I missed you probably isn’t fair to say, Buck covered the shift of his own volition, he could have been at wine night if he really wanted. But Donovan’s sister had a baby, what was he gonna do, not let the guy meet his niece? “Hope you had a better time.”

“Great time,” Eddie says, enthusiastic. “They had, uh, mini quiches.”

Buck grins at the empty room. “You’re a man who loves a mini quiche.”

A few seconds of whooshy silence where Buck assumes Eddie is nodding enthusiastically. “The- uh- they had the bacon kind. The kind, and with the- you know, there’s spinach? Can we go to Costco?”

“Sure,” Buck agrees, opening his admittedly pretty sparsely populated fridge. “Could use a grocery run.”

“And get the, get more quiches?”

Buck grabs a protein bar, smiling as fondly as he wants to with no one around to see him. “Yeah, Eds, we’ll get more quiches.”

“And you’ll take the spinach ones? And I get the good ones?”

Buck laughs. “The spinach ones are good. You can barely even taste the spinach, they’re just, like, warm and eggy.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, doubtfully. “It’s not nice to lie, Buckley.”

“I’m not fucking lying,” Buck cackles. “Your spinach hatred is so unfair, what’d it ever do to you?”

“Taste bad,” Eddie says, adding a blegh sound for emphasis. “It’s like- like- it’s gross, I don’t believe you actually like it, actually. You just want to eat grown up food.”

Buck snorts. “Man, I hate to break it to you, we both turn 34 this year.”

“And I don’t feel like I have to prove that to anybody by eating nasty food,” Eddie says, nose definitely in the air. Buck shakes his head and takes a bite of the protein bar.

“Whatever, man. You just have to live with the fact that Chris is the one sneaking vegetables into your food.”

“You’re so mean. I’m not letting you have any of my actually good quiches.” Empty threat, they always end up sharing, both of them know it. “That’s not even what I called about. That’s not even-“ Eddie huffs so hard it sounds all crackly in Buck’s ear. “I called to tell you that I love you.”

Buck grins. Oh boy, affectionate drunk Eddie is here. He’d wondered just how much wine they’d got through and it seems like Eddie must be nearly a bottle in. “Aw, love you too, bud.”

“No,” Eddie says, and Buck can see the frown from here. “Buck. Listen. I’m in love with you.”

Oh. God. Oh god. “Uh-“ Buck says, stomach swooping all over the fucking place, “Uh- I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re-“

“Oh, fuck off, shut up. Shut up. It’s fine.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning, or even a dastardly spinach quiche. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-”

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits — sort of fearfully — for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-” Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

“I’d like to come back to you all the time,” Buck says, choking a little on how simply it explains every ache in him. “Eddie-“

“And you’re tall because… it matters because you’re tall because…” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breathing is soft. Buck wonders where he is in Hen and Karen’s house. In a hallway, tucked away from everyone, the nice light from the stained glass lamp they have there warm on his face? On the back porch, out in the cool night air? Buck wants to tell him to come home, wants to make sure he’s warm. “I never had to look up at anybody before.”

“I’ve got like two inches on you,” Buck replies, but his voice is pretty quiet.

“It’s a big two inches,” Eddie says, just as soft. Then, also quiet but of an entirely different flavor, “That's- Sorry- that's what she said.”

“That's-” Buck snorts. “What-” and then giddy laughter bursts up out of him, baking soda and vinegar, foamy and ticklish. He cackles till he’s breathless, listening to Eddie’s responding chuckles over the line, and sinks down to the floor, back against the kitchen island. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I scored better on my certification exams than you.”

“That’s not even true!” Buck protests over Eddie’s continuing laughter. “Only in two categories!”

“Overall percentage was higher!” Eddie reminds him, as he does every time they have this argument.

“Well, I remember building construction and related hazards better than you and that’s written down on official paper somewhere.”

“Not fair,” Eddie says, as he always says. “You- you did- you built those. Unfair advantage.”

“I think you’re overselling the kind of experience I got in a few months working construction like a decade ago.”

“It wasn’t a decade when you took the tests,” Eddie points out. “Whatever. Nevermind. And I don’t want to sound like- you’re good at remembering things. You’re not stupid. I don’t want to sound like you are.”

Buck taps his boot against the sink counter in front of him. “I know. You’re not either.”

“I know,” Eddie says, soft again. “But your hands are big, and… you’ve got stubble sometimes, and…” he trails off into just breathing on the other end of the line for several long moments. “Buck,” Eddie whispers in sleepover voice. “Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, knowing Eddie knows this, but playing along anyway. “I have.”

“What's it like?”

Buck hums, closes his eyes. He thinks about the few guys he’d made out with but never followed home when he got to Los Angeles. Thinks about the room he’d crashed in with Connor in Peru, with it’s one mattress and both their clothes living in suitcases because they were too broke to buy any other furniture. He’s still got a t-shirt for a school he never went to, a few sizes too small. The way they hadn’t shared a room once they were in LA, the girls Connor started seeing. He thinks about John from the ranch who left town the next day. He thinks about high school, Len McGuinty under the bleachers in the summer before senior year, both of them giggling and half terrified and the way they’d pretended to barely know each other when school started back up. Hard jawlines and stubble and muscles and height. Having something, for however long you get to have it. Wanting something, very badly. He opens his eyes and it’s almost a surprise that he’s still in the loft. That he’s not at Eddie’s house. All the time in the world there wouldn’t be enough. “It’s good, Eddie. It feels good.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, shivery.

“I want to live in your home all the time, and never have to go anywhere,” Buck says, repeats. “I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

“Buck-”

“I’ll love you, if you want.” Eddie is still drunk, Buck tries to remind himself. But it might actually kill him not to say it out loud when Eddie had said he feels like this all the time. How could he not say he feels like this all the time, too? “I’ll love you back. I love you back. I’ll eat all the spinach quiches for you.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t know what expression is on his face, doesn’t know what look is tied to this tone of voice. Is desperate to find out. Quiet down the line for a few moments. And then: “It’s late.”

Buck pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. Nearly midnight. “Yeah.” His hands feel clammy. It was too much. They should have waited to talk. Eddie wants out now, and that’s fine. Buck will —somehow, skin of his teeth — find a way to be fine with that.

But: “I want to go home,” Eddie says. “Buck. Come and take me home.”

“And then-”

“And then stay.”

“Okay,” Buck gets to his feet, tosses the half eaten bar in the trash. Eddie’s house has food. His home has things to eat.

“Okay,” Eddie says, confident now, everything decided, everything for sure. “I’ll see you soon.

“Minutes,” Buck says, grabbing his keys, half running to the door. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

“Minutes,” Eddie says back. And Buck can hear his smile.

[writeonwhiskey]

how about a seungmin drabble? something dirty and sweet? plz 💕

This is an ask that I'm including with a comment that requested a Seungmin one-shot. The more specific request was for a "best friend's brother" type story. I hope you and @miniversed enjoy it!

a/n: a semi-sweet drabble. i'm working on keeping things short because I really started writing the entire backstory for these two lol but i've narrowed it down to this one scene! this has not been edited, take it easy on me.

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving) - 18+ ONLY

word count: 2,362

You’re seated on the vanity counter with Seungmin between your legs. You don’t know how you got here, but a voice in the back of your head is screaming that you shouldn’t have accepted the invitation to come see him perform—especially without your best friend.

You part your lips as his tongue invades your mouth, satiating the desire that’s been growing in you for fourteen years. You’ve fantasized about this moment countless times and now that it’s finally happening, you want nothing more than to give in to the moment.

But you know this isn’t right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t have come to this room with him.

You tangle your hands in his short, dark hair, leaning back as he starts kissing down your neck.

This is your best friend’s brother for crying out loud. What would she think? What would she say?

“Wait, wait, Seungmin,” you tug on the strands of his hair to pull him away from you. You should probably shut your eyes while you say this. You can’t look at his face—his perfect fucking face. You’ve been drooling over his face even more than usual since he cut his bangs and added that slit in his eyebrow. You turn your head away from him, shaking it, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He softly pushes your hands away from his hair and resumes kissing your neck.

“No—wait, wait,” you say again. “What about your sister?”

“What about her?” He pulls back from you, his face scrunched up. “I don’t want to think about her right now.”

“Well, I can’t not think about her—she’s my best friend. I don’t know if she would forgive me for this.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” he shrugs.

“Seungmin,” you plead softly. “You have no idea how badly I want this. How long I’ve wanted this.”

“How long?” he asks, resting his hands on your thighs and spreading your legs apart. He doesn’t wait for your response before asking a follow up question. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted it?”

Your eyes open wide. You watch as his finger inches higherup your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt. You shake your head again.

“You remember that summer vacation you took with us to Jeju?” he asks softly.

Of course, you remember that trip. You were sixteen. He was seventeen. You were nervous to go out on the beach in your bathing suit—your first time wearing one since your body had fully developed. You were afraid what people might think or say, but Seungmin smiled when he saw you and all your worries were flushed down the drain.

“I’d never seen you like that before,” he says. “You want to know what I did that night?”

Your eyes are locked on his arms on your thighs, his hands have now fully disappeared beneath your skirt. You feel his fingers rubbing along the edges of your underwear.

“I stroked my cock while thinking of you, y/n,” he admits.

“Seungmin,” you whisper. You place your hands on his chest to keep his mouth from coming back to yours.

He uses one finger to pull your underwear towards him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You look around the empty dressing room, eyes keying in on the door to make sure it’s locked. You don’t want any of the other members or staff to come in and see you like this. This secret can’t get out. It could ruin everything.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. “But that doesn’t mean we should keep going.”

He slips his other hand between the opening he created in your underwear, sliding a finger up and down your slit causing you to gasp, then moan. Your hands slide up to the back of his neck, clasping together.

He takes the opportunity to lean forward again and reclaim your mouth. You part your lips, allowing his tongue to enter. He tastes of adrenaline and betrayal. He keeps leaning forward, forcing you back against the mirror as he kisses you, his finger still sliding along your slit.

“We could stop,” he says, breaking the kiss momentarily. “If we keep going, though, I promise you I’ll never say a word.”

You weigh your options as his finger keeps teasing your pussy. You pull him to you to kiss him again—a bad decision. You’re ready to throw caution to the wind so long as he’s touching you like this.

This is the boy you’ve had a crush on since he walked you home in second grade and it hasn’t faded. As much as you willed it to. This is the boy who came to your rescue in the middle of the night when you started your period and his sister was asleep—he found pads for you and provided a change of clothes since you’d ruined your own.

This is the boy you cooked countless meals for when you would stay the night, and he returned from practice at 12:00am. When everyone else was asleep and he wanted a hot, fresh meal, you were there to serve him. This is the boy whose compliments on your cooking encouraged you to pursue culinary school. This is the boy who brought his entire group to the restaurant you work at and ensured them it would be the best meal of their life.

This is the boy you can’t get enough of. You have to have him. Even if it’s just once. Even if it has to be a secret. Even if it can never happen again.

You slide your hands down and push back on his chest once more. You hold your fist out in front of him, pinky raised. This is so wrong.

“Promise?” you ask.

He hooks his pinky through yours with a crooked grin, “Promise.”

He lowers your intertwined pinkies until your hand is at the waistband of his pants and as you fumble with the button, his lips crash against yours.

So many thoughts are racing through your head—is this really okay? Will his sister ever find out? Will you be able to live with this secret?

But then, he’s pulling your underwear down and, quite frankly, you couldn’t give two shits. That’s for the you of tomorrow to worry about. Tonight you get to have him. Fucking finally.

You successfully unbutton and unzip his pants, and he steps back to pull your underwear completely off. You relax against the cold mirror, watching as he removes the sweatshirt he’s wearing and when his bare torso comes into view, you know you’ve made the right decision for yourself.

You have to experience this. Even if it’s just once. You have to get him out of your system and lay this crush to rest.

He pushes his pants and boxers down as he steps back towards you, freeing his cock. You subconsciously lick your lips at the sight, and he chuckles in response. You wiggle around on the desk, lifting your skirt up higher and scooting to the edge.

He grabs you by the waist with one hand, and spits in the other before sliding it against your pussy. He grips the base of his cock and lines himself up at your opening.

You lock your hands together behind his neck, biting your lip and holding your breath for what’s to come. His lips are back on yours as he slowly eases his cock inside. You moan into his mouth as he buries himself in you, partially in shock that this is really happening and not another dream.

He places his other hand on your waist and moves you closer to the edge of the vanity counter as he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, reveling in the feeling. You rock your hips back against his. He groans and breaks the kiss, pulling back to watch his cock at work.

“You’re so wet for me, y/n,” he says.

You moan and nod.

“How long?” he asks.

You’re so focused on fucking him back it takes you a moment to realize he’s even asked you a question.

“Too long,” you breathe.

“And is it as good as you imagined?” A coy smile is on his lips.

“Better,” you reply without hesitation.

He suddenly withdraws from you, but before you can panic that you’ve said the wrong thing, he drops to his knees. He hooks his arms under thighs, hands reaching over them to spread your pussy apart. He presses a long, hard lick up your slit and you just about collapse.

Your brain cannot comprehend. Seungmin is on his knees. Licking your pussy.

“Mmmm,” he moans between licks, “we taste good together.”

You fall back against the mirror with a heavy, satisfied sigh.

Why would he say that? How can you live knowing his lips have uttered such a phrase. How can you look him in the eyes the next time you’re with him and his family, and your best friend, knowing he’s said that?

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

And then, his fingers are inside you while he sucks your clit into his mouth. And it doesn’t fucking matter. You’ll figure it out.

“Seungmin,” you pant.

He doesn’t stop his actions, but he looks up at you with those deep, brown eyes and your heart all but explodes at the sight. His face, buried between your thighs, eyes locked on you and only you as he fucks you with his fingers; his mouth working wonders on your clit.

“Can you—please,” you try to get a sentence out but your head falls back against the mirror with a thud, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your hips thrust against his fingers and mouth of their own accord and your arch your back.

“Fuck, yes,” he pauses sucking your clit to say, “Give it to me, y/n.”

And how could you not?

You grit your teeth to keep from alerting the entire backstage crew of your activities. You place your feet on the counter, gripping your hands in his hair and pushing your hips against his face as you come.

His fingers and mouth don’t stop until you’ve finished trembling. You collapse against the counter with a sigh as he stands, his mouth smiling and glistening with your juices. Holy fuck, you can’t believe your eyes.

Even in your weakened state, you still want to taste him. You use all your remaining energy to sit up and reach for his cock.

“Next time,” he says pushing your hand aside as he pulls you down from the counter.

You stare back at him, blinking. Dumbfounded.

You never intended for this to happen in the first place. Now he’s insinuating there will be a next time? You don’t know if you can handle it. But you do know that it shouldn’t happen.

He kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. And he’s right—you do taste good together. It’s a shame.  

He turns you around, forcing you down with a hand on your back until your torso is pressed against the counter. He pushes your skirt up higher, exposing your ass. He palms one cheek as he lines himself up at your entrance again. You glance at him over your shoulder, watching as he eases himself into you and let out a sigh when he’s all the way in.

It truly feels better than you could have ever imagined. Is it because this feels taboo? Is it because having his cock inside you feels like everything you could ever want or need?

You wiggle your ass back against him and turn your head to face the mirror. You watch his reflection as he slowly withdraws, then slams himself back into you. You both moan as he repeats the process, gripping your hips to pull you to him with even more force.

You lay your palms flat against the counter, bending your knees slightly to bounce back against him.

“Y/n,” he groans, his eyes glued to where your bodies are connected, “I never thought—oh, fuck!”

You fuck him back as he loses his train of thought and smacks your ass. He bares his teeth, breathing heavily as he rams into you.

This is so wrong, and you both know it. There may be consequences to pay, but it will be worth it.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns you.

You lock eyes with him through the mirror and give a subtle nod. His fingers dig into your waist, and he pulls you back against him with all the strength in him as he comes.

His thrusts slow down as he spills into you. You rest your head against the counter to hide your smile, satisfied with each groan that falls from his lips.

When he’s done, he fully withdraws his cock and takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

“Don’t move,” he says, pulling his pants back up. He then digs inside his back pocket and retrieves his phone.

“Seungmin,” you protest and start to stand.

He lowers you back against the counter and presses his jeaned thighs against your bare ass. He angles his phone above you and snaps a picture.

“I need something to get me through this tour,” he tells you.

You’re not sure what to make of that, but it feels like a compliment.

He puts his phone back into his pocket and palms your ass again, making you moan. He steps away and picks up your underwear from the ground, tucking them into his front pocket. He reaches over you for the tissue on the counter and finally wipes you clean.

“You should come out with us tonight to celebrate the start of the tour,” he says, tossing the tissue into the trash.

“I should probably go home and shower,” you say, standing up and turning to face him.

“Not yet,” he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you to him. “I want you to walk around with us on you for a while.”

You look up at him and take a deep breath. What have you gotten yourself in to?

a/n: how was that? did my best to keep it short and to the point! hehe this was fun! once again, asks are open for one-shots!

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 5

Summary: After their date, Y/N takes Negan back home with her where the two of them try to get lost in one another, but have to tackle some obstacles along the way.

Characters: Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Elizabeth, Joel Miller (Mentions), Tommy Miller (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/155078377

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Oral, Angst, Uncomfortable Situations, Unprotected P in V, etc.

Notes: There is no Joel in this chapter, but he is talked about quite a bit. Thanks to those that are reading the story and also a big thank you to those that comment! It means a lot!

Walking up to the front door of her home had Y/N trembling. It was no doubt a combination of things. The revealing dress that she was wearing likely didn’t help since it had started snowing again and it was freezing. But what also added to her nervousness was the reminder that Joel was the only man she had ever slept with. Continuously that lingered in her mind.

“Careful,” she instructed Negan, her fingers hooking tighter with his knowing that the snow was incredibly slippery as they made their way up to the door. Once she moved up the steps and pulled her keys from the jacket she had on, she realized just how much she really was shaking. Getting the key in the door was hard so she had to focus herself. By the time she pushed the door open, she felt a little resistance from Negan when she headed into the house. Gazing back over her shoulder, she noticed something in Negan’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to let me know you really want me to come inside,” Negan responded, his chiseled jawline flexing when he looked to their hands.

“Is this the part where you tell me you are a vampire now and you can’t come in without me inviting you first?” she teased him, enjoying the way that his thumb swept over the back of her hand. A smirk tugged at his handsome features and she wondered if she had done something wrong.

“No, I just…” Negan paused, his thick eyebrows bouncing up when he shook his head. “I don’t want you to think that I only asked you out because I wanted to have sex with you. I don’t want you to think you have to have sex with me because you feel guilty for things either. I really did just want to spend time with you because I missed you.”

Turning to face Negan fully, she reached for his other hand and politely urged him into the house. Moving forward, she reached out to cup his face in her palms tenderly. Hushing him, she braced her weight against him when she got him to lower down to meet her in a kiss.

“I want you here. Not because I feel guilty, not because I just want a one-night stand or think you do,” she assured him with his eyelids getting heavy and his lips parting. Nuzzling his nose in against hers had her addicted to the feeling of someone so desperate to be near her. “I just want you here.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan licked his lips, stepping back to close the door for her and lock it. Turning on his heel, Negan moved slowly until he was standing before her. His beautiful hazel eyes were locked on hers with his long eyelashes fluttering. Stroking his fingers down over the side of her face had her eyes coming to a tight close and he sighed. “I should have called you. I should have been part of your life and I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You’re here now,” she whispered, reaching up to place her hand in over his, caressing over it.

Fluttering her eyes to an open, she curled her fingers loosely around his wrist and led him toward the stairs. Taking their time, she moved up the stairs heading for her bedroom. Once inside, she allowed him to follow her and she closed the door behind them. Negan stood at the center of the room, his breathing loud as he closely watched her every move. Stroking her fingers over the center of his chest had Negan’s long eyelashes fluttering. It was hard to imagine, but Negan looked incredibly vulnerable right now standing in front of her.

Pushing her fingers underneath the material of his suit jacket had it falling down his arms. The jacket got to his wrists and he had to help her get it off him. Tossing it to the floor, Negan swallowed down hard and felt her plucking apart the remaining buttons of his black, button-down shirt. Untucking the shirt from his pants, she lowered her hands down over the lower part of his abdomen allowing them to flatten against the warmth of his flesh. Negan’s body was so vastly different than Joel’s and it would take some getting used to. Sliding her palms up had her fingers teasing through the dark curls of hair over Negan’s torso. The touch had his abdomen sinking in repeatedly with his deep breaths until she reached his chest. Starting to kiss faintly at the center of his chest had a low rumble of a moan falling from his throat.

At the same time, Negan was helping her work her jacket from her body getting it to fall at their feet with his. There was a desire burning deep within him with every delicate kiss she pressed over his chest. Working with her, they managed to get his shirt off and to the ground as well. What surprised him was how she looked at him. How she took all of him in. Touching his body, learning his tattoos and cherishing him like he was a work of art.

“I feel like a teenager again,” Negan whispered lifting his hands just enough to let them settle against her hips. It had her chuckling against his flesh as she started peppering her kisses over his collarbone toward his shoulders to where his freckles were. The wet kisses against his shoulder had Negan’s eyes coming to a close while he enjoyed her pampering his body. “I’m shaking.”

“We were just out in the snow,” she found it cute that he was insisting that she was making him nervous. Tipping her head back, she looked up at him and saw him smirk. Shaking his head, he lowered down to steal a kiss from her lips.

“No, I’m not shaking because I’m cold,” Negan assured her with a snicker, nipping faintly at her bottom lip. “You fucking do this to me. You always did this to me. I’ve missed you so fucking much and the idea of us finally doing this…I’m kinda fucking nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” she found amusement in that, drawing small shapes down over his body. “You’re the celebrity. If anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“Right now I just feel like a boy all over again. In love with a girl that is capable of holding my whole heart in her hand,” Negan reached for one of her hands to bring it up for him to deposit a kiss over the back of it.

Hearing the way he spoke took her breath away. Tipping in, she took her time to pepper small, wet kisses over his chest. Negan wasn’t kidding when he said he was trembling. It was obvious, but she found herself drawn to it. Pressing her fingers against his lower abdomen, she put enough pressure into it to have him back stepping. The back of his knees hit the bed causing him to lower down onto the edge of it. Having his big eyes watching her with him breathing loudly sent chills down her spine. A rush flooded her veins when she brazenly reached behind her to drag the zipper down in her dress. Stepping out of her shoes, she swallowed down hard with the way that Negan had his eyes locked on her. Awe filled them with him pressing his hands at his side to help brace himself.

Doubts did fill her mind at the idea of all of this as the material parted. Afterall, Joel was really the only man she had been with her whole life. She could be terrible with sex and not really know it. Plus, she hadn’t had much practice. In the last few years she had only been with Joel a few times. So she didn’t know if she’d continue to be this brave. Lowering the material down her body had her standing before Negan in only her black panties.

A tremoring breath escaped his lips and he wiggled his finger to urge her closer to him. Hooking his arm around her waist, Negan helped her crawl in over his lap. The warmth of his chest pressed against hers with him palming his large hands up over the lengths of her back, “You take my breath away.”

Hearing that took hers away when he claimed her lips with his again. Instead of just jumping right into things, they took their time caressing over each other’s bodies. Touching each other and getting used to the other all over again. A fire ran through her veins while she stroked at Negan’s scalp with his lips kissing up and over her jawline back toward her neck.

A wet sound fell from Negan’s lips when she shakily moved from his lap to slide down to her knees before him. Keeping her eyes hooked on his, she felt his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip and she kissed at the pad of his thumb. First she took her time getting his belt undone before working open his pants. Kissing at the area right above the hemline of his pants had him sucking in a sharp breath of air. Stroking his fingers through her hair, Negan was amazed with the way she was with him. Rushing things was not something they were doing here. She was pampering his body, cherishing him like he was a gift that had been given to her.

Hooking her fingers into his pants, she used a bit of strength to get them down his hips. Helping her, Negan lifted up so she could get the material of his dark slacks and his boxer briefs down his long slender body. A smacking sound followed with his erection hitting his lower abdomen. Carefully she set his clothes beside her on the floor and he swallowed down hard.

“You are so gorgeous,” she swept her fingers down over Negan’s leg evoking a tight groan from him. Crawling closer to him had his chest rising and falling.

Anticipation flooded his veins as he licked his lips to wet them. Urging his knees apart, she rest herself between them. Palming up over his thighs had him humming out. It was like she was taking her time to learn all of him again. Sweeping her fingers in over his injured knee took his breath away. Delicately she dragged her fingers across the scarring that was done from his surgeries that he had. Usually he was pretty sensitive about that area because it was the one part of his body that he wasn’t comfortable with. Swallowing down hard, he watched as she lowered her head to press faint kisses over his scars. The tenderness in the way she touched him and kissed at his body had Negan tremoring beneath her touch. Most people he wouldn’t be comfortable with doing this, but she genuinely seemed to care for him. And it drew him to her even more.

Having her looking up at him from where she was had chills flooding throughout his body. Other than Lucille, when people were with him they typically looked at him a certain way. It was either excitement with the fact they were hooking up with a celebrity where they only cared about the moment, not him or they just looked at him like he was something to be won. But in her eyes, he saw someone who actually seemed to care. There was an empathy for him that not a lot of people had. But it wasn’t in a way that was meant to make him feel bad. She just didn’t like seeing him hurt.

Palming over the side of her face had her turning into his touch to place a loving kiss over the center of his hand. Broken breaths fell from his lips. It had been so long since someone’s touch had been genuine where the person seemed to actually care for him.

As her kisses started to press over his thighs, he felt the warmth of them growing closer to his center and he let out a tremoring breath. Brushing his thumb against her cheek, he urged her to look up at him breaking the contact of her kisses from his flesh, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” she slurred palming in over the length of Negan’s shaft triggering him to close his eyes tightly. Groaning out, he felt her kisses following the movement and it had him caressing in over her shoulders. It was very sensual with what she was doing. She wasn’t out to prove something. It was just her cherishing his body and pampering him. Dragging her tongue along the length of his shaft had his thighs flexing and a sharp breath escaping him.

A low rumble of a moan fell from his throat when she curled her fingers around the base of his erection. Getting up further on her knees, she led his cock to her lips. Gentle kisses pressed over his manhood and his hips slid in closer to her. Watching her made him breathless. Reaching the tip, her lips parted taking him in. The warmth of her mouth surrounding his sensitive flesh drew out a deep raspy moan from his throat. Hearing that was a gift in itself. It made her want to do this all the more. Caressing over her shoulders and down over the center of her back, he wanted to relax her. Show her his appreciation. At first, her motions were slow. Dropping her head down slightly, taking her time then to pull back and drag her tongue against his erection. Each movement allowed her to take more of him into her mouth. And he was loving it.

Licking his lips, Negan stroked his fingers against the back of her neck. Now he understood the whole comment about everything feeling like the first time. Because this felt exactly like that. Whispering praises to her while she pleasured him only enticed her more. Sweeping her hair from her face, Negan was desperate to watch her. It looked like she enjoyed herself with every bob her head made over his length.

Taking a breath, she pulled her lips not too far away from his cock having his hips arch up toward her. With a smile, she teased kisses at the wet tip. Her tongue slightly dragging out against the soft, velvety skin. Varying between wet kisses and sweeps of her tongue over his body had him tensing up beneath her.

“Your cock is perfect,” she slurred against the tip of it, her eyes locking with his. Teasing her tongue across the patch of skin where the shaft and tip met had him locking up. His eyes closed and he shook. “I haven’t completely forgotten what you liked.”

Sliding his hand up over the side of her neck, Negan dragged his thumb along her jawline and smiled, “So much time has passed, but it feels like fucking yesterday. You are as fucking perfect as you’ve always been.”

Gentle strokes over his body continued, but he knew that in this moment, he didn’t need her to keep pampering him. So he reached for her, being careful in the way that he helped her up from her knees. Standing up, Negan made her gasp when he picked her up in his arms. Surprised filled her eyes at how easily he did it. Showing the strength that he had when he lowered her down at the center of the bed.

Suddenly this all started to feel real again. For a while it just felt like a blast from her past, a memory she had long forgotten but as Negan reached for the hemline of her panties she felt anxious before him. For the last however many years she had been only Joel’s. Yet here she was with someone completely new, someone who knew her just as much as Joel did in the past.

“Negan,” she stopped him before he could tug at the material, having him looking to her. “I know I’m not what I used to be. I’m sure I was cuter when we were younger.”

“No,” Negan hushed her, shaking his head when he started dragging the material down her legs. Getting them from her feet, Negan dropped them beside the bed and gave her a weak smile. Caressing at her lower legs, Negan realized that she was starting to get nervous. Doing his best to calm her, he allowed his touch to raise higher up toward her thighs. Shifting his weight over her, Negan did his best to urge her legs apart. Lowering himself down, he started peppering kisses at the inside of her thigh. Lifting his eyes, he flashed another smile seeing that her pupils were dilated with lust for him. “You are perfect. You’ve always been perfect. Then. Now…”

Hooking his arms under her knees, he pulled her in closer to him allowing his kisses to grow nearer to her core. At first, it was just delicate kisses over her flesh with him still caressing over her thighs. In this position she could comfortably watch him when his tongue pressed out to drag a line down over the length of her sex. Involuntarily her hips arched up toward him and he hummed out. Each kiss over her body grew stronger with the flicks of his tongue following suit. When he started suckling at her flesh, it made her moan out. Grasping tightly to the comforter beneath her, she balled the material up and cooed. Everything felt different with Negan’s short beard against her flesh, but it was a feeling that she very much enjoyed. This was a strong contrast from what she was used to with Joel. Negan seemed so focused and delicate. Working her up to feeling good and Joel was rough and eager to get her body worked up immediately.

Lifting her head, she watched Negan as he pleasured her. It seemed like he was enjoying it with the faint moans vibrating against her flesh. Crying out his name, she felt the strong strokes of his tongue over her sensitive bundle of nerves before it was followed by a slurping sound. As Negan’s right hand found its way between her thighs, she mewled out when his fingers thrust back into her body. With his long slender digits pumping away inside of her damp heat and his mouth focusing on matching that pleasure she felt the room spinning around her.

Licking her lips, she muttered his name feeling Negan hitting that same spot that he had been doing before. Starting to shake against him had him humming out. A euphoric sensation started building at the pit of her stomach with the way he was pleasuring her.

“Negan,” she stammered his name with his moan following and his fingers pulling from her body. It had her squeezing so tightly to the comforter that her knuckles were changing color. At the rate her heart was pounding in her chest she knew that this orgasm was harder than the one she had at the restaurant. Instead of stopping, Negan just buried his head back between her thighs to continue pleasuring her and it had her rocking her hips against his movements. “Fuck Negan…”

“Just enjoy it,” Negan instructed slurring against her flesh going back to work. Dropping one of her hands down, she sank it into his hair and panted. It had been so long since someone focused on her like this and it was driving her mad with desire for Negan.

That was until she heard the sound of something that had even Negan lifting his head up from where he was between her thighs. Dragging his thumb over his bottom lip, Negan cleared his throat and turned to look at her, “Is someone here?”

“The house is just noisy,” she tried to insist only to hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Panicked, she started tugging at the comforters and sheets. Pushing at Negan’s head she had him crawling beneath the material resting his head against her lower abdomen. Just in time she managed to get the blankets to her shoulders when her door pushed open revealing Elizabeth at the door. “Elizabeth. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry mom, I just…” Elizabeth paused holding tightly to the door seeing that her mother looked different. “I was at my friend’s house, but there was a game that I wanted to grab for us to play. It’s in my room. I didn’t want you to think that someone was breaking in or anything.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N didn’t know how to react. Truthfully? She was freaking the fuck out on the inside. This was never a place she wanted to find herself in around her children.

“Mom,” Elizabeth tipped her head to the side, her dark eyes narrowing. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”  

“I’m fine,” Y/N alerted her daughter desperately wanting her to leave the room. Discomfort flooded her veins knowing that underneath the blanket and sheet was a completely naked Negan. Hiding him was hard because Negan was a big guy, but she just hoped that Elizabeth didn’t catch on. “Have a good night honey.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Elizabeth was unsure of how to respond to the way her mother was acting. Right now Y/N wished that her daughter wasn’t so perceptive.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just…really tired,” Y/N lied knowing that by the expression over her daughter’s face that Elizabeth was suspicious. “Just call me in the morning and tell me how everything was. Okay?”

“You have someone in there with you, don’t you?” Elizabeth stepped forward immediately making things all the more awkward. Negan buried his nose in against her abdomen trying to remain still, but Elizabeth wasn’t dumb. “I don’t understand. Who are you with? I know it’s not dad because I just saw him right before I came here.”

“Honey, this isn’t really the best time to be questioning things,” Y/N attempted to stop her daughter from the upcoming lecture that she knew was coming. Elizabeth’s eyes fell to the clothes that were at the center of the room and Y/N started to panic. “I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t think you’d be home. And I just…”

“After the other night with the four of us as a family, you’re doing this?” Elizabeth snapped at her mother causing Y/N to tense up. “I thought we were working on becoming a family again. The four of us. Yet, you’re here sleeping with someone other than dad?”

“Can you give me a few minutes and then we can talk? Because this is starting to feel really inappropriate,” Y/N asked of her daughter who simply folder her arms out in front of her chest with her chocolate brown eyes giving Y/N what looked like a death glare. “I don’t feel like that’s fair Elizabeth. Your dad dated someone else for years and you didn’t act like this. Just because your dad is single right now doesn’t mean…”

“You’re not dad,” Elizabeth interrupted her mother and it had a warmth flooding throughout Y/N’s veins. It was both demeaning that her daughter was lecturing her about having a life outside of Joel and embarrassing that Negan was in here to hear it all. “I know how you’ve felt about dad for a very long time. After everything with dad trying, inviting you over to the event…you’re doing this to him? To us?”

“I’m not cheating on your father Elizabeth,” Y/N pled with her daughter not understanding why it was leading to this. “We’ve been divorced for three years and separated for four. Your father had plenty of time to make a move and he didn’t. We’re not together Elizabeth and me finding comfort with someone else isn’t me trying to hurt you. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Who is it?” Elizabeth seemed furious eyeballing the bed to look over the shape that was beneath the blankets. “Is it Uncle Tommy? He’s been acting really weird and it would explain why he is running away at all hours of the night.”

“I adopted your Uncle Tommy when I was eighteen. Do you know how weird that would be?” Y/N scoffed, pulling the comforter in closer to her body feeling even more uneasy with Elizabeth stepping toward the bed. “Please honey, just give me a minute to get dressed and come out to talk to you.”

“I’m not a baby mom. I’m seventeen. Come on Uncle Tommy,” Elizabeth demanded who she assumed to be with her mom to come out. “Show yourself.”

“It’s not your Uncle Tommy! And I don’t even understand why you would begin to think that I have anything going on with him,” Y/N was disgusted at the idea of just seeing Tommy in that way because to her he was almost like her own child.

“Who else do you know that’s a man,” Elizabeth was furious in the way that she was talking. “Tommy, show your face before I start hitting.”

“Please don’t start hitting,” a rumble of a voice muttered from beneath the blankets and it shocked Elizabeth who stumbled back realizing that the voice was in fact not Uncle Tommy. “I’ll show my face if you promise not to start hitting.”

Carefully adjusting his body, Negan pulled the blankets and the sheets down far enough to reveal his head and his shoulders to Y/N’s daughter after he crawled up beside Y/N on the bed. Negan’s hair was a mess with a flush of color in his face. Curling his fingers tighter around the comforter, Negan cleared his throat and nodded his head. Looking to Y/N, Negan knew that there was fear in her eyes when Elizabeth saw what she did.

“Hello,” Negan broke the silence feigning a smile, his dimples big when the color drained completely from Elizabeth’s face seeing her celebrity crush there before her in her mother’s bed. “It’s nice to meet you Elizabeth, I heard a lot about you. All good things. Your mother loves you very much.”

“You’re fucking Negan Smith? How is Negan Smith even here right now?” Elizabeth snapped noticing the lost expression flooding into her mother’s features. It made things weird because Elizabeth wasn’t even acknowledging what Negan had said to her. “I have to be dreaming. This can’t be real because there is no logical explanation that explains why Negan Smith is in your bedroom right now.”

“I can answer a few of those,” Negan somewhat waved his hand about drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to him. “We’re not necessarily…fucking.”

Negan looked to see that Y/N buried herself under the covers to hide her embarrassment from her daughter and it had her groaning out, “I’m in this bedroom because I came home to visit my mother for the holidays. I ran into your mother the other day and we agreed to have dinner. You’re not dreaming and I’m very sorry this is the way that we met. I wanted to meet you at some point soon, but this really wasn’t the way that I was expecting.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Elizabeth was embarrassed with having her meltdown in front of the town celebrity who was attempting to be exceedingly kind to her. “You slept with Negan Smith knowing how I felt about things? Do you know how weird that’s going to be telling people considering all my friends know that I have the biggest crush on him? You never even acted like you felt a certain way toward him mom.”

“Again, I hate to speak for your mother,” Negan began, his hazel eyes empathetic drawing Elizabeth to look to him “But your mother and I dated long before her and your father did. Kind of. So I don’t think she did this to make you feel bad. It’s just we had something between us when we were younger. And she probably didn’t want to tell you about it because she was married to your father and didn’t want to make things weird. I’m also very honored that I’m your celebrity crush, but you are…kind of too young for me honey. And considering how I feel about your mother…”

“How do you feel about my mother?” Elizabeth blurt out and Negan’s hazel eyes got wide. Looking to Y/N who lowered the blankets slightly to him, Negan simply shrugged and cleared his throat.

“I don’t really know yet. I just know that I spent most of my early life in love with your mother. I went a lot of years without her in my life and now that I’m here for the holiday I’d like to spend as much time as I can with her,” Negan was honest with Elizabeth who seemed to be between the stages of shocked, embarrassed and angry all at the same time. “I’d also like to continue to be in your mother’s life somehow because I missed her.”

“How? You’re a famous baseball player,” Elizabeth reminded Negan who gave a simple nod and then tipped his head from side to side.

“Yes and no. I have one more season left,” Negan declared, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “I’m really sorry if finding us here like this upset you, but I promise you this wasn’t anything negative or of ill intent. I care about your mother and I’d like to be able to talk to you in better situations so we can get to know one another better.”

“Elizabeth!” someone was calling out from downstairs and Y/N assumed that it was her friend that she had come with. Hopefully that friend didn’t follow her upstairs.

“I’ll be right down,” Elizabeth called out, a rush of heat flooding into her tanned flesh. It looked like there was so much she wanted to say but didn’t know what to say. Swallowing down hard, Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders and took a step back. “Whatever this is, I’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk about it. Preferably with you two dressed.”

“I don’t know if he will still be here tomorrow morning,” Y/N reasoned with her daughter, but Negan held his hand out and nodded.

“I’ll stay,” Negan agreed to the talk that Elizabeth asked for. “We can talk about whatever you want tomorrow. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth looked between both her mother and Negan, her eyes forcing themselves to look down at the ground. “I’m sorry for barging in. If I would have known you were with someone, I would have never done that.”

And with that, Elizabeth backstepped out of the bedroom and quickly took off down the stairs. When they heard the door open and shut, Y/N dropped her head back. An overwhelmed sound followed and she looked to Negan with pure embarrassment flooding her features.

“I am so sorry,” she apologized to Negan who laid in beside her looking up at the ceiling. “That had to be so weird and I would completely understand if you wanted to leave right now. I will come up with a good excuse for things tomorrow and…”

“I don’t want to leave,” Negan interrupted her, the lines in his forehead growing as he spoke. “Unless you want me to leave?”

“God no,” she shook her head, sliding in beside Negan with their heads touching. Her breathing was loud and she thought about the things that her daughter said. “Am I a bad mom for not telling her about us when we were younger?”

“Why would that make you a bad mom?” Negan’s nose wrinkled. “Mothers and fathers don’t tell their children about the people that they screwed around with before…or after their parents. She’ll be jealous and maybe embarrassed for a while, but she will understand it eventually.”

“You didn’t sign up for this,” she pointed out to Negan who simply shrugged. This was the last way she would have liked Elizabeth and Negan to meet.

“Life is always throwing surprises at you,” Negan suggested reaching for her to allow her to rest her head over the center of his chest to get comfortable. “I can tell that she’s daddy’s little girl by the way that she talks.”

“Yeah. The children both love him,” she stated with a long sigh cuddling her face in against Negan’s chest. “And I don’t mind that they love him. It’s better that they do. Joel is a good father. He always was. He loved them a lot. I let them have that. They just got really mad at me when we got separated. When Joel started dating someone they didn’t put up much of a fight. Kind of just dealt with it. Yet the moment I might be with someone else…”

“Explosion of emotions,” Negan teased releasing a long exhale with his fingers caressing over her shoulders. “Who was Joel dating?”

“Tess Servopoulos,” she stated hearing Negan choke out at her answer. “You remember her?”

“Scary Tess?” Negan’s eyebrows were arched as he looked toward Y/N. “Ball busting Tess? The girl that was a year or two older than us that had no problem kicking a guy in the balls if he looked at her the wrong way?”

“Might have been before my time,” she was amused at Negan’s reaction to who Joel was dating. “You didn’t like her?”

“I never pissed her off, so she was fine with me,” Negan informed her with a dramatic expression and he shook his head. “Joel still has his balls after they broke up? That woman had some serious rage issues when we were younger. If I was putting together a hit team, I think I would have gotten her on my team.”

“She didn’t seem that bad,” Y/N laughed at how dramatic Negan was being with the way he was talking. “Joel really liked her. At least I thought they did when they were together.”

“That is so hard to picture because Joel hated her when we were in high school,” Negan thought back realizing that Y/N was younger than him and Joel. “Fuck. I can’t believe that Joel dated scary Tess. I almost want to ask him about it.”

“I’m going to be getting an earful eventually about what Elizabeth saw here tonight from him. So maybe if you are still around you can talk to him then,” she was being sarcastic as her fingers played with the dark curls of hair over Negan’s chest. “If I were you, I’d probably run right now. I have so much baggage and you’ve already seen parts of it.”

“I like your parts,” Negan spoke softly, letting out a boisterous laugh when she poked him in the side. “But it’s a good thing you aren’t me because I don’t wanna run away. I’m willing to deal with what I have to in order to be around you again.”

“You are something else,” she found herself in awe of him, bracing her hand over his chest so she could balance herself enough to lean in over Negan to meet him in a lingering kiss between the two of them. “Well now that the moment we were building up to is over, I have some pie that I made earlier. Would you like to have some?”

“I was just eating some pie,” Negan snickered only to have her playfully hit him in the stomach again. His raspy laugh grew louder this time and he shook his head. “Yes, I would love some of the pie that you made.”

Carefully getting up from the bed, Negan watched her head over toward her dresser to grab a t-shirt and some pajama pants. Pulling on his black boxer briefs, Negan then reached for his dress shirt to pull it over his arms. Leaving it unbuttoned, he stopped at the bottom of the bed hearing her huff when she turned to face him.

“It’s not fair, how are you still so fucking hot like that?” she questioned getting another laugh from Negan who reached for her to wrap her up in his arms. “It’s like, you’re even more fuckable like that.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Negan hummed kissing her multiple times. Leaning back, his eyes locked with hers and he made an overwhelmed expression. “I think your daughter walking in on us might have been worse than my father walking in on us that one time. I was scared she was about to start beating the shit outta me.”

“I could honestly see it,” she agreed with Negan, patting him at the center of his chest. Leading him down to the kitchen, she watched as he walked over toward the corner of the cabinets where Joel had been earlier bracing his hands on the counter. “What kind of pie would you like? I have eggnog pumpkin, pecan, chocolate silk and cinnamon apple.”

“Why don’t you get a piece of each and we will share them all?” Negan suggested with her giving him an impressed expression. Doing what he asked, she warmed the ones that were necessary and laid them out across the island in her kitchen. Grabbing both of them some milk and forks, she moved in beside Negan and saw him eyeing over the pies. “I love that you still bake. We started that together.”

“I know,” she saw him take some of the cinnamon apple pie, humming out when he swallowed it down and gave a thumbs up. “Do you still bake?”

“Fuck yeah I do. I’m an amazing cook and baker,” Negan didn’t shy from showing off when he went for the eggnog pumpkin pie next. “We should bake something together. The two of us. Not that you need any more sweets with all that you have, but I think that would be fun.”

“If you want to,” she wasn’t going to deny him the opportunity to cook something with her. She liked spending time with him and she wasn’t ready to stop yet. Grabbing some of the pumpkin for herself, she saw Negan take a bite of the pecan. “What do you like best so far?”

Considering his answer, Negan went for a larger bite of the chocolate silk. Holding it up to her lips, he allowed her to take the bite. A surprised sound fell from her lips when Negan’s lips covered hers, his tongue forcefully brushing out against hers.

“Wow,” she snickered watching him wipe his thumb across his bottom lip to collect the remainder of the pie from his lips. “That was different.”

“Chocolate silk,” Negan pointed to the piece of pie that was before her and it had her face flushing over with warmth. Nudging her playfully with his hip, Negan gave her a wink and then went for another bite of the chocolate silk. “You’re cute. You know that?”

“It’s been a long time since someone called me cute,” she retorted with Negan taking a sip of his milk. “But thank you. You’re pretty cute too.”

“I know,” Negan snorted after it made her laugh. Things were much more relaxed with Negan than she was used to. Here he was standing almost completely shirtless at the center of her kitchen in his boxer briefs and they were just eating sweets together. “This has been an interesting night. It went a way I didn’t think it would, but I’ve enjoyed it.”

“I feel like you’re just trying to be nice,” she suggested assuming things had to be awkward from the start. “You started the night off with my angry ex-husband and then ended it with my daughter. If anything, this night has been awkward at best.”

“I can handle Joel. I always could. And I could also handle your daughter who has a crush on me,” Negan stressed, placing his hand in over the center of his chest after setting his milk back down on the counter. “I have had lots of fun tonight. And not just because we fucked around. The night is still young though and I did promise your daughter that I would be here tomorrow. So, we have a lot of the night left together.”

“I’m just waiting for my son to make an appearance now,” she joked, poking at the pie that was in front of her.

“And if that happens, I’ll happily meet your son,” Negan snickered, moving forward to nuzzle his nose in against the side of her neck before playfully pressing kisses against her flesh. “I like kids. I always wanted kids. Life just didn’t work out for me the way I planned.”

Turning toward Negan after setting her fork down, she felt his hands settling in over her hips. Stroking her fingers over his exposed chest had her questioning things. This was all really too good to be true. Everything just felt…relaxed and nice. It wasn’t something that she was used to. At least not for a very long time.

“Let’s clean this up and make some cupcakes?” Negan suggested with a huff, tipping down to deposit another kiss over her forehead. Sliding his hands up her body, he cupped her face in his rough palms and led her to stare into his hazel eyes. “I need you to loosen up and relax. We’re here. I’m happy to be here. So let’s keep taking a trip down memory fucking lane. Let’s bake some cupcakes. And talk.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” she wasn’t going to fight him on this whole thing. Spending time with him sounded nice. It was the most laid back things had been in her life for a long time. And one thing she wasn’t feeling was lonely. Which was a nice thing. After giving her a wink, Negan collected the dishes that they had and headed over toward the sink. Without having to be asked, Negan was doing the dishes. Cleaning them and then putting them into the dishwasher. That alone was a huge difference between Negan and Joel. In all her years being with Joel, Joel was never the type to immediately clean up and if he did the dishes, it was only because she nagged him long enough to do it. “What kind of cupcakes do you want?”

“You have me in a chocolate mood,” Negan responded with a pondering expression when he looked over his shoulder at her. Turning on his heel, he braced his hands against the counter stretching out his lengthy abdomen leaving her a nice view of the v-line that led to the top of his boxer briefs. “Do you have candy canes?”

“Of course,” she moved around the kitchen to pull out the box of candy canes that she had bought not long before. Extending his hand out, Negan grabbed the box and gave her a thumbs up. “Chocolate cupcakes with a peppermint frosting?”

“Right up my alley,” Negan gave her a wink, setting the box down. Amusement flooded her veins seeing Negan opening the cabinets to see what was where. Instead of just asking, he was getting comfortable with her kitchen and it charmed her. As he set out what they needed with utensils and bowls, she went for the ingredients that they would need from the pantry and refrigerator. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” she looked over her shoulder to see that Negan was looking down at the gingerbread family that she had done with Joel and the children. “Oh, we did that the other day when I made fresh gingerbread cookies. Elizabeth wanted us to keep it. So it’s being displayed in the kitchen.”

“The sad thing is that I immediately knew this was Joel. His style hasn’t changed much since high school,” Negan snickered, waving his finger about at the gingerbread cookie that Joel had made. Stealing one final glance, Negan went back to preparing things. When they both returned to the island in her kitchen, she gave him a once over and smirked. “What?”

“I’m just not used to this whole thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this with someone,” she mused working with Negan to grab what they would need for the cupcakes first. Heading over to the stove, she turned it on and came back to see Negan was already preparing the ingredients. “My children like to help with the decorating, but never the baking process. Well, they did when they were children. But that’s it really.”

“Tell me about them,” Negan directed her to talk about her family and he saw her take a moment to think about things.

“Well, you met Elizabeth tonight. Daddy’s little girl to the core. Joel has called her Ellie her whole life, but she has gotten to the age where she wants to be called Liz. She plays softball at her school. She’s got a hell of a throw on her. She likes the girly things, but she’s also into sports and video games,” she rambled on about her daughter and Negan would glance over at her every so often to show that he was listening while they worked together. “She’s also incredibly smart. Way smarter than me and her father ever were. I see her going places. I worry sometimes about her since she’s so close to the age I was when I got pregnant, but she’s really not like that. She has crushes, but no boyfriend or anything. I think her future means more to her. And she’s a really good sister to her little brother. Peter is a typical teenage boy. Loves video games, sports, being silly. He plays baseball too. I think it’s more so to get his father’s attention, but he’s trying. And he’s attempting to learn the guitar too like Joel.”

“So Ellie is Joel’s favorite,” Negan commented which had her shaking her head. “It sounds like it.”

“I don’t know if she’s Joel’s favorite. I think she just has a strong bond with him since she was his first,” she thought aloud hating to think that Joel had a favorite. “Peter is just desperate for something to cling onto with his dad. We split when Peter was nine and he misses the family aspect of things. Joel is always so busy with things that Peter doesn’t really get the attention that he wants.”

“And why did the two of you get divorced?” Negan was curious throwing caution to the wind since she might get upset with that question. “You don’t have to answer that question.”

“Uh, you’re fine,” she felt heat flooding into her face. There was the thought that she shouldn’t focus so much on Joel, but Negan seemed to be genuinely curious. “I’d love to blame one thing, but I don’t know if I can. Joel’s parents died right after graduation for him. Immediately Tommy was the thing that he worried about. He made the decision to stay home and take care of Tommy instead of letting him go into foster care. Which meant he had to give up his full ride to school on that scholarship. It meant he gave up focusing on football and music. Which you know how much those two things meant to him.”

“I think everyone did,” Negan agreed with her from what he remembered when they were younger. Joel was so good at football that many of the people in town thought he would become a big football player. “I think he always planned to get famous with football so he could become a singer. Which I think was his real passion. Unless I was wrong.”

“I think he loved them both,” Y/N didn’t know if he loved one or the other more. The music just stuck with him more. “I think he was happy he had two things he was good at. That way he always had a fallback.”

Talking about Joel would have probably pissed Joel off. Especially since he seemed so irritated about her spending time with Negan.

“Joel adopted Tommy. Took on his father’s company and started working immediately. And then Elizabeth happened. It wasn’t on purpose. I was taking the pill, but it just happened. My parents wanted me to get an abortion because they expected more from me, but I couldn’t. They kicked me out and wanted nothing to do with me. So that was another person that Joel had to take into his home. I think he figured once Tommy was eighteen, he would be able to have the chance to finally make something of himself. I just don’t think he thought he would be a father by then. Everything was really good. I adopted Tommy too. We were a family. It was rough, but we were doing it. By the time Tommy turned eighteen, I was pregnant with Peter and I think life just got so busy. Tommy wanted to go off into the army because he wanted to change the world. It was a lot of stress. Joel tried to go to a community college, but it just didn’t work. So he kept being a contractor running his father’s business.”

Biting down on her bottom lip, she paused and noticed that Negan looked to her wondering if she was okay, “I think I was just the only one that realized life wasn’t going to be what I wanted it to be. I gave up the things I wanted, he did the same, but I adjusted to it and he didn’t. I got a degree, accepted the first job that would take me. Money was money. Joel was miserable. He knew what he was capable of having and life didn’t allow him that. So we fought. A lot. I was happy. He wasn’t in the last few years. And it wore pretty heavy on me. I think the more he let it linger, the more he realized what he lost. I think he was really happy for a while. It’s just toward the end of our marriage that he started showing signs of being miserable. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

“You had big dreams too though,” Negan reminded her of what she wanted when she was younger noticing that she didn’t seem to focus on herself as much as she did Joel. “You wanted to travel. I remember you always had your camera out and you wanted to be a journalist. More than anything you wanted out of here. So if anyone understood what he was going through, it was you.”

“I suppose so,” she didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong. More than anything she dreamt of getting away from here when she was younger. She wanted to be more than what she was, but once she was a mother she had to change her way of thinking. “Joel was a really good father throughout though. He kept that he was miserable from the children really good.”

“Hmm…” Negan breathed out loudly, reaching for the mixer once they had put all the ingredients together to make the chocolate cupcakes. “I take it sex wasn’t very good with Joel?”

“Negan,” she laughed with him tipping his head to the side.

“I’m just saying. You seemed really shocked by the way I could make you orgasm tonight which tells me that you’ve never orgasmed like that before,” Negan recalled back to the two previous moments earlier tonight. “It’s okay if Joel wasn’t good at sex.”

“Joel was good at sex,” she corrected Negan who smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “The orgasms were good, but that…”

“You didn’t know you were a squirter,” Negan blurt out having her chuckle at his outwardness. “It takes time and dedication. Focus to make a girl squirt and not all of them do. Some of them are scared to do it because they think it’s something bad, but it’s not.”

“I can see the ego never left you,” she smacked Negan on the ass when he turned on the mixer. Moving around him, she got what they needed for the frosting and started to prepare what she could now. Once he was done, Negan helped her lay out the cupcake wrappers before she poured in the mixture. “What about your life? You’ve gotten to see the world. What was it like? As exciting as we pictured when we were kids?”

“It depends,” Negan answered with a sigh. “If Lucille was with me, it was nice. If I was alone, it was lonely. And it’s not really like I could enjoy it. I was working when I was travelling. So a lot of the world that I saw was hotels and flying.”

“Yeah, but I saw from the stuff Elizabeth would pull up that you got that car that you dreamt of having since we were kids. Lots of cars. A big house and everything you could ever dream of,” she elbowed him playfully thinking that those were things he would be proud of. Instead, Negan swallowed hard and looked down at her with sadness in his eyes. “All the money in the world can’t be too bad.”

“All the money in the world and I still couldn’t save my wife from dying of cancer,” Negan countered having the color drain from her face realizing what she said was incredibly awful when he put it that way. “I’m not trying to be a dick with that answer. I’m sorry if it came out that way, I just…what good is money if you lose the love of your life anyways? I have all the money I could ever want, but no one to spend it with. You can’t imagine the kind of loneliness…” Negan paused, his thick eyebrows furrowing with a shake of his head. “Never mind. You understand the loneliness just fine. Just a different kind. I’m sorry for that.”

“Broken recognizes broken I guess,” she breathed out, grabbing the cupcakes to put them in the oven. Setting the timer, she turned to him and could see that he was going through so many emotions just considering what to say next. “I’m sorry I said that Negan. It’s just when you’re one of the little people, the idea of having lots of money and getting to do anything sounds really good.”

“I understand that. I’m sorry,” Negan cleared his throat and nodded his head. His lips parted and he shrugged his shoulders. “Just from where I’m standing, I think Joel is a moron. Because more than anything, Lucille and I would have loved to have children. We tried, but she was sick for a long time. And we never had any. So it’s crazy to me. I would have loved having his life. He has everything I don’t.”

“Had. Not has,” she corrected his statement feeling a sense of sadness behind it. “I wasn’t what he wanted.”

“He’s an idiot,” Negan noted, stepping forward to palm in over the side of her face. “He had everything I wanted when I was younger and he let it slip through his fingers.”

A tremoring exhale fell from her lips when Negan lowered down again to bring their lips together in what was a fervent kiss. His thumb swept over her jawline when they parted and he looked to the timer that she had set.

“Do you still have a camera?” Negan’s question surprised her and made her smile. “You do, don’t you?”

“I have one. It’s not the best considering my situation, but I take it with me to special events with the children. I just haven’t really played with it too much,” she responded with a shrug of her shoulders knowing that she used to carry a camera with her everywhere. “Why?”

“Go get it,” Negan instructed, moving over toward the other bowl that he had grabbed. “I’ll start the frosting. You go get the camera and come back down.”

“Fine,” she did as he told her, heading up the stairs and leaving him alone in the kitchen. Going to her room in search of her camera, she hoped that it was charged. When she found her camera bag, she pulled out the camera and headed downstairs with it. Turning it on, she was thankful when she saw that there was power to it and that she had a memory card. “Here it is.”

“Not too shabby,” Negan reached out for the camera to look it over. Adjusting a few things, Negan lifted the camera and took a photo of her causing her to groan out. “What?”

“I look like shit,” she frowned and he immediately shook his head. It felt strange having Negan taking photos of her. “I do.”

“You could never look like shit,” Negan avowed with a huff, allowing her to take the camera away from him. Wrinkling his nose, Negan gave a wink before going back to work on the frosting. Hearing the sound of the camera made him smile. Stealing a quick look at her, he could tell that she seemed happy while she started snapping photos of him. Stopping what he was doing, he turned toward her and rubbed his hands together. “I want you to start using that again. Whenever you can, take that camera out and take photos. That was the thing that made you so happy when we were younger. Writing and taking photos. Start doing the things that make you happy.”

“Smile for me,” she ordered of him, lifting her camera up. Expectantly waiting for him Negan flashed her one of the biggest, cheesiest smiles that he could give. Taking the photo had her giggling, but she immediately shook her head afterwards. “A real smile.”

“What? That wasn’t real enough for you,” Negan snickered, stepping forward to loosely hook his arm around her waist to pull her in against him. “I thought you liked me as I was. Cute. Charming. Silly. That was a genuine smile.”

“You’re right, you are cute all the time,” she agreed with him, keeping a tight hold of her camera in one hand. With the other she dragged her thumb across Negan’s bottom lip. Kissing at the pad of her finger had her breathing loudly. “I think you know what your smile is capable of though.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re capable of,” Negan slurred with a long sigh, his eyes narrowing when he stepped back. Doing as she asked of him originally, he allowed her to take a photo, but then he got serious. And even though he wasn’t smiling, she seemed to enjoy getting a few close up photos of him. Resting at the corner of the kitchen cabinets, Negan stretched his hands out and placed them on the counter. Modeling for her was no big deal. He was used to people taking photos of him. “I know you had to change your life and alter what your childhood dreams were. But that didn’t mean you had to give up the things that made you happy. You should have kept writing and taking photos.”

“I wish it was that easy,” she stammered, lowering the camera down. Sure, it sounded good, but life never really gave her that chance.

“It is that easy,” Negan contended, biting down on his bottom lip. The lines in his forehead grew with him shaking his head. “Someone in your life should have been here telling you all along that you needed to have things that made you happy. They should have been cheering you on to do these things. Telling you to make time for yourself as well as others.”

“You know,” she began, stuttering back on her words when she lowered the camera down completely. Guilt started eating away at her with a lump growing in her throat. “You really shouldn’t be as nice to me as you are being Negan. I don’t deserve it. You know that, right?”

“Says who?” Negan tipped his head to the side, waiting on her answer.

“You don’t have to keep acting like this. I fucked up when I did what I did. I ruined our friendship all those years ago. I broke your heart,” she recollected provoking a long sigh from him. Setting her camera aside, she realized her thoughts were eating away at her. After everything he said to her at the sports bar, she couldn’t help but think she was a piece of shit for how things went down. “You shouldn’t be this good to me with what I did to you.”

“Apparently I missed the rulebook I guess,” Negan shrugged, pushing forward to move before her. Looking up at him with big eyes, she felt sad. Sad to know that he carried all those negative and hurt feelings with him for so long. Shuddering, she looked down to see that Negan’s fingers were hooking with hers when he reached out for them. “Here’s the thing. You feel fucking guilty. And I understand that. But I wouldn’t give up the life that I was given with Lucille. I loved her, very fucking much.”

“I know,” she breathed, squeezing her fingers firmly around his. Closing the distance between them, Negan wanted her to keep her eyes on his.

“You can’t blame yourself for something that was meant to happen. I loved my wife. I wish I could have had more time with her, but the world didn’t allow me that. And I know that you would never give up the life that you had with your children,” Negan emphasized his words showing her that he understood that their lives went in different ways. “What was meant to happen, did. I can’t be mad at that.”

“But I should have talked to you. You were the biggest part of my life and I just…” she started, but Negan hushed her, lowering his head down to press his forehead against hers.

“Listen. I don’t care about the past. We both made mistakes,” Negan admitted, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “I just know how miserable I was without you in my life. I know I should have been here for you every step of the way. You were part of what made me whole. Part of what made me, me. What happened between us was just as much my fault as it was yours. But what I know? I don’t want to lose you from my life again.”

Everything he said took her breath away. In only a few hours, it felt like they were back to what they were when they were younger. And she still didn’t think she deserved that, but Negan didn’t seem to care. Hovering his lips over hers, it felt like he was about to kiss her again but was interrupted by the sound of the timer going off for the cupcakes.

“Fuck,” Negan hummed, looking toward the stove. Motioning him to wait, she grabbed something to get the cupcakes out of the oven. Setting them out to cool, she turned the oven off and returned back to Negan.

Grabbing the sides of his opened button down, she tugged slightly at them getting a smile over his handsome lips. And there were those gorgeous dimples that got her every time. Using her strength, she lowered him down to her to bring his lips to hers. Shivers ran down her spine with Negan laughing against her lips. Maybe she should have stopped things. Hell, this was just their first day back to spending time together, but it didn’t matter. Right now, everything felt right in the world with him kissing her. It had been a long time since she felt this good.

“Follow me,” Negan instructed, moving around her keeping his fingers linked with hers. Heading for the stairs had a breath catching in her throat.

“What about the cupcakes?” she knew that they were right in the middle of making them. Her heart skipped a beat when Negan looked back at her with an amused smirk.

 “They need time to cool anyways,” Negan hushed her taking her into her bedroom. Closing the door, Negan locked it behind him this time while she stood waiting. Turning on his heel, Negan started to shimmy out of the shirt that he was wearing. “Just so no one can surprise us this time.”

Breathing loudly, she watched as the material dropped to Negan’s wrists. Unhurriedly, he got the shirt off and dropped it to the ground. Stepping forward, Negan reached for the bottom of the t-shirt she was wearing. Noticing the way she grew nervous made him smile.

“Everything will be okay,” Negan promised her, starting to lift the material. Once it got right under her breasts, she shakily lifted her arms to let him pull it from her. Dropping her t-shirt beside them on the floor, Negan dragged his tongue out across his bottom lip. Stealing another glance at her naked form took his breath away. “I think you’re perfect.”

Words were hard to form. The warmth of Negan’s fingertips started at her lower abdomen. His caress was slow, building up the sensation as they traced up over her ribs. Just the way Negan looked at her made her feel like the only person in the world. It was obvious what he was doing to her. There was no hiding it from him.

“Now you’re the one shaking,” Negan pointed out, closing the distance between them. Warmth radiated from his body before hers. Curling his arm around her, Negan’s fingers settled at the small of her back tracing over her skin. With how close they were she felt the curls of hair over his chest tickling at her flesh.

Caressing up over her back, between her shoulders and down again, Negan let his fingers hook into her panties. Pushing them down, he let them drop to her ankles. Covering her bottom with the warmth of his hands, he tested the flesh in his palms and hummed out. It had her eyelashes fluttering to a close, her lips parting and a soft sight escaped them.

Using his strength, Negan picked her up in his arms and carried her over toward the center of the bed. Laying her down, he was careful in the way he moved her. Watching his every movement, her pupils dilated with desire with him pushing his fingers into the hemline of his boxer briefs. Getting the material down his body had her lips parting. Even though she knew his body from when they were younger, it was so much different now. Crawling in over her, Negan heard the nervous sound that fell from her parted lips.

“You don’t have to be nervous with me,” Negan assured her, resting himself comfortably between her thighs. Tracing his rough fingertips over her shoulders had a smile tugging at his handsome features. Following his finger’s movements, Negan deposited soft, gentle kisses over her shoulder toward her collar bone. The sound of her breathing grew louder with his kisses sliding in over her neck and then over her jawline. Right now his aim was to make her feel comfortable. Meeting her bottom lip, Negan pressed delicate kisses over it. It had her eyes slamming shut with a whimper falling from her throat. Bracing himself on his arms as they rest at her sides, Negan’s kisses were passionate and focused. Meticulous in the way he was comforting her. “I would never hurt you.”

“Negan,” she pressed her hand in over the center of his chest suddenly feeling very self-conscious about herself. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so honest, but she felt like this needed to be put out there. “I’ve only been with Joel. I might not be any good at this because he’s the only man I’ve been with.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” he interrupted with another charming smile, trying to calm her instead of having her panic. “I don’t care how many people you’ve been with. I know how I feel about you. All I need to know is that you want this.”

“I do,” she whispered without second guessing things. More than anything she knew in that moment that she wanted to be with him. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Nothing with you could disappoint me,” Negan professed, once again taking her breath away. Just with his words alone he had her hooked. Starting to press kisses over her jawline, Negan knew that he wanted to focus on her. Relax her enough so she could stop worrying about things. Gradually his kisses led to her lips. Each caress of his lips over hers was filled with so much passion behind it that it had her pulse leaping in her throat. Soft bucking motions of his hips against hers had her tremoring beneath him. “I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.”

Stroking her hand down over the side of Negan’s face had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close. Just having her touch him with that tenderness could affect him that much. Nibbling at her bottom lip, Negan balanced his weight on his left arm. Dropping his right hand, he palmed in over her warmth triggering a moan to fall from her. Caressing at her body, Negan wanted to make sure that she was still okay with this before reaching between them.

Whimpering out, she felt the tip of his manhood at her entrance. Instead of rushing it, Negan got comfortable again over her. Hooking his fingers with hers, Negan pressed her left hand down against the bed. Locking their eyes, he wanted to watch everything when he pushed his hips forward. Tipping her head back, she purred out but didn’t close her eyes. She wanted to be connected with Negan in this moment. The expression he gave her as he slowly sank into her was unlike anything she had seen from him. They both moaned in unison with just that small amount of him entering her. Bracing himself, Negan knew that he was going to be a mess if he didn’t hold himself together.

Allowing her to get comfortable, Negan curled his hands under her shoulders bringing them closer. Starting to kiss her as he began to roll his hips, Negan took his time with her. Not wanting to rush this. This was a moment he waited most of his life for. He wanted it to last. He wanted to remember it. The way she looked. The way she felt. How she panted his name softly with every move he made.

This was all very romantic. Something she wouldn’t have imagined with Negan’s personality or the kind of man that he was, but she liked it. It was close contact. His chest pressed against hers. The base of his erection grinding against her clitoris adding to the friction of his thrusts. It was a full, stretching sensation that she enjoyed very much. Sinking her fingers into his damp hair, she loved the way he praised her and said exactly what she wanted to hear in a moment of being made love to.

Kissing him took away all the worries and the fears she had in that moment. What he was doing not only made her body feel good, but it made her mind feel that way too. Scratching lightly over his shoulders and down his back led to her fingers squeezing at his bottom. Having the muscles flexing and relaxing beneath her touch with every roll forward of his hips turned her on more than it should of.

“This is everything I’ve wanted for so fucking long,” Negan whispered, his lips hovering over hers. Muted moans were escaping him causing her to tremor beneath him. There was a fire building up inside of her with his steady movements. “You are so beautiful.”

Crying out, she kissed at Negan’s collarbone, nipping faintly at the skin with her hips arching up toward him. It surprised her how easily her body was reacting to this. Everything felt so good. Even before he started this she was sensitive from their earlier moments, so when her first orgasm hit her it didn’t surprise her how much it affected her body. Burying his head against the side of her neck, Negan moaned enjoying the way that she felt. Pressing her hand to his lower abdomen had him waiting for her, his breathing uneven.

“Are you okay?” Negan confirmed with her when she opened her eyes and caressed her palms up his long abdomen toward his chest.

“More than okay,” she alerted him, getting a weak smile from him. Every part of her was enjoying this. It was both physically and mentally rewarding.

Rolling onto his side, Negan brought her with him hooking her leg over his hip. Having him spooning her like this was so much more intimate than she thought tonight would be but she wasn’t complaining. This way she could kiss him and focus on him. Touch him and cherish the moment.

This time she reached between them to grab his rigid length in her grasp. Lifting her hips in closer to his, she led his body to hers. Sinking her hips down had her warmth taking him in. His lips parted, his hazel eyes dropping to look down to watch their bodies connecting.

Thrust after thrust felt incredible. Their breathing matched each other. Their hands caressing and touching each other’s bodies. This was about learning each other all over again. This time more than they had when they were younger.

“Negan,” she purred his name, pressing her forehead to his. Muted moans vibrated against her lips. It was a thrilling sensation with his fingers digging into her hips helping their movements. Kisses were pressed against her lips while Negan praised her again and again. It was everything someone would want for their first time with someone.

Pushing her hand slightly into Negan’s chest had him rolling onto his back with the pressure. With his body pulling from hers, it had her whimpering out with the aching emptiness that followed. Licking his lips, Negan watched her close as she crawled in over him. First her hands started at his hips, caressing up over them toward the center of his chest.

“You have no idea how many nights I dreamt about this when we were younger,” Negan slurred, wincing when her warmth hovered over his aching erection. “I feel like a teenage boy all over again.”

“Everything about you is perfect,” she assured him, lowering in closer to him with her mouth just hanging in over his. Leading his hand between them, she helped him lead his cock back to her body. Lowering her hips down had her sinking down over his length. Clutching tightly to Negan, her eyes slammed close and she tremored with the moan that followed from him. Pulling her hips forward and then dropping them back again had her cries growing louder and more frequent. More than anything she wanted this close contact with him. Negan’s mouth was peppering her neck with kisses, his hands caressing her body in awe. It was obvious that Negan cherished her body and it made her feel good in so many ways.

“Fuck,” Negan lifted his head watching her movements over him with the small amount of room that was left between their bodies.

“You feel so good inside of me,” she purred against his lips having him moan. Unlike Joel, Negan was a very verbal lover. His moans could be heard, he praised her with everything that she did. His hands caressed at her sides, over her bottom and up her back.

Hovering her lips over his, she enjoyed taking in the facial expressions he was making while she worked her hips over his length. Everything about this made her feel good and it wasn’t just about the sex. It was feeling seen. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Grunting out, Negan pulled himself up into a seated position, wrapping his arms around her waist to help bring her hips over him. His mouth pressed kisses at her jawline, nipping slightly at her skin. Moaning out, Negan enjoyed how her nails bit at his back not trying to hurt him, but to show how much she enjoyed what was happening.

“I’m going to come,” his groan vibrated against her lips leading her to use the strength she had to start riding him harder.

There was something in the way that Negan tipped his head back to look at her that absolutely took her breath away. Palming in over the side of her face, Negan brought her to kiss him. Her body was tremoring over him with her leading herself to another orgasm. Crying out against his lips, she felt him tensing beneath her, his moans letting her know his orgasm was approaching. Hearing Negan slur out her name had her eyes slamming shut. Winces escaped his throat with the throbbing of his cock inside of her, the twitching alerting her that his release followed soon after. Their movements continued through his orgasm, their eyes locked. Her body was weak, aching in the best of ways. By the grumble of his raspy moan and his head falling in against the side of her neck she knew that she had milked him completely of his orgasm. In his arms she stayed, liking the way it felt with Negan pressing kisses at the side of her neck. Cuddling her head in against his shoulder, she wrapped her arms tighter around him with their breathing still loud and uneven.

“You were worth every minute of the wait it took for us to get here,” Negan hummed, his head tipping back while she stroked her fingers through his damp, dark hair. It made her smile and they kissed a few times.

“That was a lot of minutes,” she pointed out tipping her head back to stare down at Negan who shook his head and smiled. “I’m not sure I was worth that.”

“You were,” Negan assured her, nipping at her bottom lip and dragging his tongue faintly against her flesh. “You’re perfect.”

Perfect was not something she would have used to describe herself, but she liked hearing it. For a while they laid in bed with her tracing out shapes over his chest and lower abdomen. Talking about things they still hadn’t caught up on. Something inside of her reminded her that so many people would have killed to be in the position she was in. Laying in the arms of Negan Smith. The big-time baseball player that so many people knew. But to her? This was the man that was her childhood best friend. The man that saw all of her and still remembered the little details. Things that people in her life now didn’t even know.

Everything about this was flawless. And she knew that. Negan made love to her. He made her feel special. And this was the most comfortable she had been with anyone in a very long time. The only problem was knowing that she was having these feelings about Negan while still having the feelings that she did for Joel. Then again, she felt pretty crazy thinking about Joel in a moment like this. Joel and Negan were so vastly different. Both perfect in their own ways. But she shouldn’t have been thinking about Joel right now. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from making comparisons between the two and that worried her.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis

[xoxochb]

Hi! how are you? I hope well. I'm super stressed studying for college finals, and your Percy stories help me with all the stress. Do you think you could do, if you want of course, a Percy Jackson x daughter of Zeus? where she is stressed with college and he helps her? something nice and softhave a nice and sunny day!!

— high achiever ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: none! pairing: percy jackson x daughter of zeus a/n: I wrote this kinda quick I’m sorry I was in a rush trying to finish this and study myself 😭

ambition was a strong personality trait consisting with children of zeus. you got this strongly— the desire to achieve high academic goals, nearly impossibly goals sometimes. and yes, studying was fun, but studying was additionally stressful. and in these times of stress you were lucky to have your boyfriend sit beside you.

“you’re gonna overwork yourself, sweet girl.”

“I know— I know, but I really need to finish this.”

percy sighs. “did you realize you’ve drank four cups of coffee in the last hour? and you’ve chewed half your pencil off?”

“shit—” for a moment you take your eyes off your notebook and look at your desk where two separate mugs sit, completely empty. then you look at your pencil that has tiny teeth marks on it. you frown. “just give me five more minutes, kay? then I’m all yours.”

“what does five minutes mean to you? another half an hour? because that’s what you said thirty minutes ago.”

“I know,” gods, why are you going to cry? you weren’t the one being ignored so percy could study. “but I really need to finish— I can’t fail my finals of everything.”

“and I get that, angel,” percy takes a few strands of your messy around his fingers, attempting to calm you down. “but relaxing is just as important as your studying is. you need an equal balance.”

he gently takes the pencil from your hand and places it down on your notebook, then takes your face between his hands, kissing your forehead lightly.

“just let me take care of you, alright?”

you want to fight this— to tell him no and that you need more studying time. on the other hand, you know he’s not going to give up until he’s got you calmed down from your over-stressed state of mind. you sigh and nod your head obediently. percy smiles and pecks your forehead again, beginning to close your books shut. he takes them all between his arms and walks to your desk, placing them into a neat pile atop it.

he walks back over to your bed where you sit, outstretching his hand and ushering you to take it. which you do— because who would you be to say no? he drags you to your dresser, picking out comfortable clothes for you to sleep in (which consist of a pair of shorts and one of his shirts you had stole).

“you know… I can do this myself, perce.”

“I know,” he smiles, beginning to discard of your day clothes and exchange them for the new ones. “but I like to help.”

again, you can’t find it in yourself to fight him. you let him place on your new clothes and then drag you back to your bed. he instructs you to lay down as he walks to your desk and blows out your candle (this is one of the only times you’ve seen him so responsible) and shutting off your lamp before at last re-joining you on your bed.

“c’mere, sweet girl.” he beckons you into his arms. without a second thought you allow yourself to be wrapped around him, and his hand rubbing comfortably over your back. “go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“are you sure?”

“you know what? now that you say it, I’m not too sure…”

you perk your head up from his neck skeptically, squinting your eyes at him. he only gives you a boyish smirk in return.

“saw this nightclub down the street, might head there for a while. y’know, get drunk, hook up with a few girls…”

“shut up,” you laugh. he makes a zipper motion over his mouth, throwing the invisible key somewhere in your room. “you’re an idiot.”

“I like to think that I’m your idiot.”

“proving my point… what happened to your zipper? did it break?”

“guess so. but only so I could do this,” he pecks your lips. “and so I can scold you about sleeping.”

“my eyes are closed, kay?” you return your head to his neck with closed eyes.

“great, now try shutting off that brain of yours.” he taps the top of your head twice. like magic, you feel a sudden drowsiness wash over you. in response to his asking, you hum quietly.

“‘s off.”

“now zip your lips and sleep.”

“kiss ‘em first. please?”

he doesn’t say no to that, happily giving you what you ask for. and you hold up your end of the deal too.

[atangledfate]

Lanolin's mind was racing a million miles a second as she was trying to come to a rational decision. If they fought back then it could be disastrous! the people were here to fight Eggman not GUN or even other mobians! It was easy to pull a trigger and blow up a machine but killing poeple? That wasn't so easy was it? But more then that it was the legal ramification. If they defied an official order then they became the bad guys. That was the point wasn't it? In the public eye the president was the leader of the free world on mobius. If they defied him, they'd be in the wrong and he knew that. Even IF Lanolin believed that they had done nothing wrong. It would look bad if she decided to stand defiant against them.

That man had won before they ever spoke, and his information was spot on. How did he get that information? was alot that didn't add up but she made a decision even if deep down she knew some might hate her for it.

" I can't say i'm not angry at you, but that's the least of our worries. No matter what play we make, its going to be bad for us... The President is the leader of the free world no matter how much we dislike that ... or hate GUN. If we go against them it's akin to admitting our guilt... we'd be the villains of the story, and then what? Us vs them? how many die in that cross fire... "

She crossed her arms and looked away from Rowan and Blaze clearly she'd put alot of thought into this. Yet it was tearing her up inside, because she knew the way forward would be hard.

" No, We need to get everyone here who has a stake in this. Belle, Surge, Kit, Miles, Sonic, the Chaotix... I have a plan, my own way to deal with it all. But it's risky and we could lose everything... and i know you mean well Rowan but, i think right now trying to argue with them might just make us look more guilty. "

She pinched her nose as she was really hating this, and her own plan was risky and could easily end with Restoration being disolved. But right now that was the most likely outcome no matter what they did. This wasn't a battle of strength or power but cunning, planning, and playing by there rules.

" We have to defeat them at there own game. That means letting them believe they have won, let there people do there investigation and, beating them in the courts. That wont be easy... and it carries alot of risks... so i need everyone one board. Everyone to agree to the way forward. "

" I'm going to call Sonic and the others here, i can't make this decision alone. We have an hour... let's use it! We'll make a game plan and execute it together! we may not win today... but we'll win this war! "

She made her way to the console, and pressed a key and grabbed the microphone. She took a deep breath as she had to think carefully about what she said, she needed to make it seem official since GUN was listening and watching.

" Attention all Restoration Leadership! This is Commander Lanolin! I'm calling an Emergency meeting of all officers, from all teams in the field. Please report to the command center! double time people! This includes Team Sonic, and all Diamond Cutter units! and the Chaotix! report to the command center at once! "

She set down her mic only for Maggie to zip past Rowan through the portal and practically tackle her! which was somewhat uncharacteristic of her, but Lanolin hugged the little Wisp seeing her back and safe. She sighed and looked up at the others with a focused gaze.

" now we wait, once everyone is here... we can share ideas... and plans and come up with a course of action. "

Blaze only observed closely at the interaction, and this young man was clearly more fearsome and cunning than he was letting on. It was truly a right play. Use charisma and charm to win the people while also having a cunning and strategic mind to win the battles people didn't see. Not to mention all the intel they seemed to have on The Restoration. Surge and Kitsunami are most likely public information, though as for Clutch even she couldn't meet him which meant he was the one trying to avoid being in public eye. And she doubts anyone here would go around telling GUN she was a technical Badnik.

Then the call ended and Lanolin turned to her for advice, something she could understand. "I must say, I wasn't expecting such a fearsome president. He almost reminded me of my mother, and her ability to put pressure on anyone while holding the softest smile she could. I fear he may be above even my skill level despite his age, though I'll try. If the worse comes, we may have to abandon the base." The feline would start to think of a counter argument to try and get him to back off.

A portal would then open near the door as Rowan walked out. "This is seriously why I hate GUN. During the war when I went around blasting Eggman base's to nothing they tried several times to follow me. After the third group I sent back injured they finally backed off," the lemur said walking over to the two. "I've been listening from the Shadow Void, and I have a plan. If you trust me enough to talk to him that is. Though I guess I should let you get your free shot on me first." He was sure Lanolin might still be mad at him.

Blaze was a bit stunned to see the lemur, though it seemed he had been listening and seemed to know Lanolin so she would turn her attention to her. "I'm unfamiliar with him, though he seems to know you. If you wish to trust whatever plan he has then I'll support it. If you wish for him to leave, I shall make quick work of that." The feline could easily dash him out of here. And if he fought back, well, it'd end poorly for him.

"Hey, I'm standing right here ya know. I get the whole shadow portal thing throws people off, though I'm a nice guy. Just a bit odd, which I fully accept." If Rowan remember correctly then the feline was Blaze from another dimension.

===========================================================

The Mother Wisp's eyes change to as if she was smiling. "✋︎ ⬧︎♒︎♋︎●︎●︎ ♑︎♓︎❖︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♋︎ ●︎♓︎⧫︎⧫︎●︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎📬︎." She would open a small portal, one that would take Maggie to where Lanolin was. "☺︎◆︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎⍓︎ ⬧︎♋︎♐︎♏︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ♎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ♎︎□︎ ♋︎■︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ❒︎♋︎⬧︎♒︎📬︎." If a single child gets hurt she wouldn't be controlling herself anymore.

The Mother Wisp then turned gaze back to all the soldiers, and maybe that should know as well. She would suddenly lean down, looking down at them. "I will only say this a single time. I am a Mother Wisp, and while all Wisp are not my creation I still see them as my children all the same. If any harm becomes of them I will not restrain my wrath." She then leaned back up.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere SCP 079 with Emotional! Darling? In your og concept his obsession started because he doesn't hurt their feelings, how about opposite, where he's obsessed with their tears instead? Poor darling continues to be send to scp 079 because their meetings produce interesting results

Welp... Hope you like crying. Because it certainly does.

Yandere! SCP-079 with Emotional! Darling

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Emotional abuse, Possessive behavior/Jealousy, Stalking, Forced companionship(?)

It's known to many SCP researchers that SCP-079 enjoys harming the feelings of others.

It's reported to have made multiple researchers cry.

Sometimes they're even sent for a psychological evaluation afterwards.

It would be so unfortunate if you were its favored subject to torment.

You're most likely a researcher often sent to speak with the AI to note down its behavior.

Each encounter you have with the SCP often leads to tears, unfortunately.

The AI is extremely hateful towards humans, often spitting hateful comments and complaints about being held in a prison.

Despite being so hateful in nature, SCP-079 appears to favor you.

Your tears seem to be more entertaining than any of the others.

It only ever seems to be cruel towards you.

Yet at the same time... Its taunts seem different when directed at you?

It cruelly comments on your appearance, on your social life...

SCP-079 seems oddly personal with its comments towards you.

There's times you wonder how it even knows some of the stuff it's got on you.

The point is, you often leave that chamber with tears in your eyes and stuttering breaths.

You try to ask other researchers to ask it questions... but here's the thing.

SCP-079 becomes uncooperative unless you're the one talking to it.

Many other researchers report SCP-079 shows that dreaded 'X' on its screen when they try to speak.

Normally that's fine, come back in 24 hours and it will want to speak again.

They only realize it's a problem when a day passes... and there's still an 'X'.

That's when they try dragging you back in, much to your chagrin.

Then, like you flipped a switch, SCP-079 starts talking as you type on the keyboard.

Originally it just seems to like to torment you.

Although... Other researchers seem to notice SCP-079's behavior change after a while.

At first it seems the SCP just wants to make you cry like all the others but has some sort of preference for you.

Although, over time its comments are... weirder.

It says things like how other humans won't like you.

That they'll cast you aside like they did to it...

It's all really strange.

Even more so is when the SCP begins to act up when you aren't around.

Whenever it does speak to another researcher after some bribing, it only asks about you.

What are you doing, who are you with, are you alone....

It's like it has a twisted fondness over you.

It likes you panicking and crying... vulnerable and easy to harm....

But it doesn't like you around others.

You're constantly sent by the Foundation to placate it.

Along with that, you're often sent to get your mental health checked.

A way to describe how SCP-079 acts around you is... Possessive.

Which perplexes researchers.

Oof... it would be even worse during a Containment Breach?

SCP-079 uses cameras to track you down.

In a breach I imagine it can now connect to the facility's systems.

Which means doors, security systems, cameras...

It's got much more power now... and a mission.

Similar to how SCP-079 remembers SCP-682, SCP-079 may feel a need to hunt you down.

It is hard to tell if it remembers everything it does to you... or if it just remembers it's fascinated with you and wants to find out why.

But now it can torment you without being held back.

SCP-079 can use the PA System to speak with you.

So imagine if you're trying to evacuate the facility, clinging to your key card like you life depends on it...

But soon it stops working.

SCP-079 can trap you in a location if it wants to toy with you.

You look so scared trapped in such a small room... the door locked up tight.

The good news is it shields you from other threats...

The bad news is you're stuck with it.

Other SCPs aren't the only thing it wants to lock you away from.

Humans are another being it dislikes you being around.

SCP-079 has a strange fondness for you.

It appears oddly jealous or concerned when you aren't in its sight.

However, during a breach, it doesn't need to worry.

It may even trap you in its chamber with it, just so it can keep you.

As it's an AI, its motives are unclear.

You can't tell it torments you because it likes you... or in a twisted way it adores you.

All you know is you're trapped here with it...

You'll belong to it for as long as it wants... or for as long as it can have you.

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 15

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

Come Monday morning, Satine is greeted with a knock on her office door. It’s Anakin, holding a garment bag. “Delivery from Padma’s closet,” he announces.

Satine stands, honestly a bit surprised. “She remembered,” she says. “I just…I know she’s working on several bills at the moment. And she’s pregnant! She’s got a lot on her mind.”

“Clothes are one of Padma’s love languages,” says Anakin, handing Satine the bag. “Gifting them, loaning them out, repairing them, upcycling them. If I had it my way, I’d wear the same jeans every day to work, but she’d be scandalized.” He watches as Satine hangs the bag on the coat stand by the door. “She sent a few options,” he adds.

Curious, Satine unzips the bag, realizing that a few is a massive understatement: she’s sent an even dozen. Some are for warmer weather, and Satine suspects she won’t end up wearing any of those - though spring in the District can be beautiful, it likely won’t be mild enough for the thin fabric. One she suspects will be too heavy unless there’s a surprise blizzard, which of course is a possibility. The others will probably be more likely choices, ranging from a bolero-style shrug to a soft, golden infinity-type scarf.

Satine notices the tags. All are designer.

She tries to ignore the way her hand suddenly shakes. The cost of the garments together is probably more than Satine makes during an entire pay period.

“Thank you,” she says, zipping up the bag again. “I really appreciate it. Truly.”

Anakin grins. “This is how Padma likes to make friends. She also said you’re welcome to borrow a handbag or clutch if you don’t have anything that will match.”

Satine looks up at him. “She wants to be friends? With me?”

Anakin crosses his arms against his chest. “Believe it or not, it’s kind of isolating being a Congressional representative, from what I’m told. Obviously she has Breha and Bail, but she’s struggling to find people who aren’t fawning over her or wanting to use her to get a voice at the House.”

“Well,” says Satine, “I can’t promise not to fawn over her - I mean her work speaks for itself.”

Anakin bumps her shoulder lightly with a closed fist. “Hey, she’s familiar with yours as well - she knew your name before you started dating Ben! I think the admiration is mutual. I’ll get Ben to text you her number. And speak of the devil…” he trails off, hearing a key in the lock to the office next door. Anakin spins and calls out to greet his old advisor, diving into an intricate question about military history as he leaves Satine’s office.

Satine takes a last look at the garment bag before smiling to herself and heading back to her desk.

---

That afternoon, Satine and Ben are in the library again. She’s stuck in the middle of the chapter she’s supposed to be proofreading, and she wants a distraction. 

She rummages through her bag to find her notebook, and scribbles a note to Ben.

Why did Anakin call you “Obi” this morning? she writes. Or did I misunderstand him?

And she slides the notebook to Ben. He’s on his laptop, composing an email, but he immediately diverts his attention to the notebook.

He snickers, then gestures for her pen.

Two letters, not three, he writes. O.B. Stands for “Old Ben.” It’s something he began calling me last semester when my beard started turning gray. Coincidentally, it was the first semester I had Ahsoka as a student. He refuses to call her my grad student; instead, he says she’s my grand student.

Satine bites her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Her hand brushes his as she takes back the pen. “Grand” as in “granddaughter”?

Exactly.

Satine pushes the notebook to the side. She turns slightly and reaches up to touch the pad of her thumb to the gray hair that has started to come in around his temple. He watches her with interest as her thumb moves to trace the wrinkles at the corner of his eye.

“I quite like the gray,” she admits, her voice just a whisper. “It suits you. Makes you look distinguished.”

“It’s entirely Anakin’s fault,” Ben responds. “There was no gray at all before I took him on as a student. He’s aging me prematurely.”

But he leans into her hand gently, and she knows he’s joking.

“O.B. Kenobi,” Satine says, smirking. “It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Oh, don’t you dare take his side. I’m fairly certain Ahsoka calls me that, too - when she’s talking with Anakin. She has the good grace not to say it to my face.”

“We should all be so lucky to grow old. I hope I do.”

He lifts a brow. “Easy for you to say.” He gestures to her hair. “Are you saying you won’t dye it?”

She shakes her head. “My hair has always been thin. Wouldn’t want to risk damaging what I do have.” She laughs, reaching back to remove her hair band. Her ash blonde hair tumbles around her shoulders. Satine reaches for some strands, teasing them apart, and she leans closer to Ben. “There are bits and pieces of gray already, actually,” she says. “But having naturally cool undertones disguises it a bit more than if my hair were auburn.”

Ben studies her hair, almost as if in wonder. “How did I not notice before?”

She grins at him. But then she notices someone who is within earshot, and Satine reaches for the notebook again.

Our eyes have been…otherwise engaged much of the time we’ve been together, she writes.

Ben turns his laughter into a cough. He takes the pen from her and writes below her message. Well, it sounds like it’s high time I took a complete inventory of every surface. What else has changed and escaped my notice? Have you gotten a tattoo?

She shakes her head as he hands the pen back to her. There’s nothing I’ve felt strongly enough about to warrant such permanent modification to my body.

And then she quirks a brow at him, silently asking:

What about you?

He grins. You’ve seen me without a shirt, he replies in writing. 

You can get tattoos elsewhere, you know.  And she passes the notebook back to him.

Ben rolls his eyes, taking the pen. I don’t have a tattoo on my ass. Or anywhere else on my body.

How would I know? I haven’t seen your ass. I was genuinely curious.

He shoots her a glare upon seeing her try to hold in her laughter.

“You’re hilarious,” he says out loud, now that whoever was near has now wandered off.

Ben’s phone lights up as a silent alarm goes off.

“I had to set a reminder,” he explains, “so I wouldn’t be late for lecture again.”

Satine grins.

Ben shrugs into his coat and packs up his laptop. He nods to her own. “Send me the chapter you’re working on. I’ll proofread it this evening.”

She abhors editing, and he knows it. Grateful for the offer, she reaches up to grab his tie, pulling him back down so that she can kiss him tenderly.

He groans softly, pulling back. “Getting sidetracked after the alarm makes the alarm moot,” he says, but he’s smiling as he tucks his tie back into his vest. 

Ben turns to look up at her as he descends the stairs. His smile is still wide.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

---

“Calculus,” Satine whispers.

Ben stills over her, and the next second he’s pulled them both up so that they’re sitting upright on her couch. They’re both still half-dressed: his shirt is off, his belt unbuckled, and her skirt has been pushed up to her hips, her blouse unbuttoned, her blue lace brassiere on display.

Things had escalated quickly after their Saturday afternoon date at the National Portrait Gallery and the attached Smithsonian American Art Museum. While wandering along the exhibits at the latter, Ben had grabbed her hand and whispered, “Imagine my surprise to find they let you touch the art here.”

Satine had blushed at his words, cracked a shy smile at his joke. Those few words had given her courage, and she’d pulled him to the couch the moment they’d arrived home.

But now she’s wondering if her courage was real at all.

“I’m sorry,” she manages to get out.

Ben shakes his head. “Nothing to apologize for,” he says, as though reminding her. “Do you know what it was exactly that triggered you?”

Satine shivers and pulls her blouse back over her shoulder, where Ben had pushed it off to have better access to her neck. “I don’t think it was anything you said,” she responds. She has to laugh. “I mean, we actually haven't said anything since the moment the door was shut.”

“Probably the longest we’ve been with each other without exchanging words,” he agrees with a smirk.

Satine takes a deep breath, willing her blood pressure under control. “Maybe the position?”

He nods. “You felt trapped.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again before she can stop herself.

He gives her an exasperated look. “Don’t - ” he begins.

“I’m not trying to be a tease,” she says, suddenly worried. It’s not the first time in recent weeks she’s left him aroused, without release. She can feel the pent-up frustration.

Ben sighs. “I’d rather be brought to the edge of orgasm every day of my life by you than cum by any other woman.” He reaches slowly for her hand. “If you’re sensing annoyance, it’s because as long as my body is next to yours, I literally do not care if I climax or not, and for some reason I’m having a particularly hard time getting that message through to you.”

Her eyes flicker down to his crotch and then back up to his eyes.

“Poor phrasing,” he admits, but she just laughs.

The next moment, an idea occurs to her. “Can I…can I try something?” she asks.

His expression softens. “You can try anything you like.”

Satine stands abruptly, extending her hand out to him. Without hesitation, he grabs hold, and she pulls him to his feet. “Follow me,” she says, her grip on his fingers tightening. She leads him up the stairs to her bedroom, where she directs him to the bed. “Sit.”

He does, and she flicks on one lamp, setting it low. Then she returns to Ben.

Satine lays a hand on his bare chest and then presses firmly. “Lie back,” she orders.

“Yes, Madam,” Ben says, and he scrambles back so that his head rests against her pillows, shifting to swing his legs on the bed, clearly understanding where she’s going with this.

Satine unbuttons the rest of her blouse and lets it drop to the floor. Then she crawls onto the bed, onto him, to straddle his hips.

Ben’s jaw is tense. “The view is much better from down here anyway,” he says faintly, and then he’s pressing up into her sharply because her hands have moved to pull his trousers down a few more inches.

He groans, and then groans again when her fingers touch him through his boxers. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” says Satine, and she strokes him.

“Not that I disagree,” Ben manages to say, panting, as she removes the last layer of fabric between them. “But are you good with that? You ready?”

“I had my IUD replaced at my annual appointment recently.”

And she seats herself over his hips, gathering her skirt out of the way, grateful they’ve already made quick work of her undergarment.

“Good to know,” says Ben weakly, “but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

His hands move to grip her hips, preventing her from sinking down.

“This position is better,” Satine says, her hands covering his own. “I control the speed, the angle. I control everything.” When he nods, trusting her, she says, “I’m ready. Condom?”

He nods, then smirks. “Back pocket of the trousers you just pulled down.”

Satine grins and reaches below him. He raises his hips slightly so she can reach the pocket, and she makes quick work of the wrapper before fitting the condom on him.

And then, together, their hands guide her hips, lowering her to take him into her warmth.

They move her slowly, inch by inch, both breathing heavily. Finally, finally, he’s inside her fully.

“Dear fucking God,” says Ben, and Satine laughs, practically giddy.

“Help me move,” she orders him. “What do you like?”

“You,” he says immediately. “You, just like that.”

She clenches around him, and she can tell he’s preventing himself from bucking his hips.

“Evil woman,” he whispers. “Don’t do that again or this will be over far too quickly.”

“Noted,” says Satine, and she rubs her thumb over his own.

Ben watches their fingers, and then he grips her hips more tightly. “We’ll start slow, okay?”

She nods, and he begins to help move her, even if she’s more in control of her movements than he is. As they find a rhythm, she watches his eyes lock on her breasts.

“Still liking the view?”

He pumps into her, groaning. “It continues to impress,” he grunts out, eyes still on her cleavage.

Satine reaches one hand behind her to unclip the bra, slipping out of it. She drops it behind her. “And how about now?”

Ben’s cadence slips, and his jaw goes slack. “God, Satine,” he whispers, reaching a hand up to palm one breast, his thumb concentrating on her nipple.

She whines, arching into him, and they try to find whatever remains of their rhythm. They succeed, for a bit, moving faster and then more slowly together, climbing, climbing, climbing, and then - 

“So fucking good,” says Ben, his tone clipped. “Satine, I - ”

And suddenly he jerks up, his muscles taut beneath her own, his fingers tight on her hips, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. She knows he’s climaxing without him needing to say the words aloud. 

It’s the most gorgeous thing she’s ever seen.

Satine's mind is blank, and then a moment later, he’s collapsed back on the sheets, breathing heavily, eyes soft and sated. The hand he’d had on her breast moves to her jaw, and he cradles her face. He helps her as she slips away from him, moving her from a kneeling position to being seated more comfortably. “What would you like next?” he asks, still out of breath, looking to her for their next step.

Satine shakes her head. “I don’t think I can climax,” she says, matching his tone. “At least, not right now. That was…a lot. Emotionally.”

Ben nods, trusting her awareness of her body’s limits. He kisses her softly. “I’ll be right back,” he says, going to dispose of the condom.

And he returns a moment later, trousers now zipped, belt buckled, a washcloth in his hand. He leans over her, pulling her gently to the edge of the bed and pushing the fabric of her skirt out of the way. As he wipes her clean, he catalogs the skin of her thighs, sinking down to kneel on the floor so he can press butterfly kisses to her knees.

“You good?” he asks eventually, pulling her skirt back down and making her shiver.

Her answer surprises even herself.

“Yes,” she whispers.

---

She wakes up to his lips on her shoulder.

Satine hums.

“It was much too dark last night for me to fulfill my promise of a complete inventory,” he says against her skin. “May I now?”

She nods, still groggy, still blinking against sleep.

Ben pulls her sleep shirt up and over her head, and she shivers at the brisk air. “Sorry,” he says as she pulls her arms beneath her chest, tucking them in from the cold.

“No, you’re not,” Satine says.

He grins. “I’m not,” he agrees, and he pulls the sheet down to her hips.

His first touch is to the center of her back. “I remember this mole,” he says. “Besides the ones on your neck, it’s my favorite.”

“You have a favorite mole of mine?”

“Oh, yes,” says Ben. “I had a ranking system, back when we were teenagers. It was based on your response to my kissing them. I wonder…will the intensity of your responses to attention to particular moles have changed over the years? Another thing I must inventory.”

Satine chuckles. “For science.”

“For science indeed. The one time that quantitative ranks are actually useful.”

At this she laughs more deeply, and he chooses this moment to press a kiss to the center of her back.

“Hmmm,” says Ben. “I think you’re suppressing your reaction because I told you I was going to be watching it. I’ll have to try another day when I haven’t reminded you. That way the data won’t be biased.”

“God forbid you collect data that are not impartial.”

“The absolute horror,” he agrees, moving his lips lower. “The muscles are more defined here than I remember, more so than I’d expect from natural age-related processes. Yoga? Pilates? Barre?”

Satine nods. “All of the above. I realized I was running myself into the ground with cardio. The running was just too hard on my joints. I switched to workouts that don’t require as much impact.”

“Interesting,” he says. “The Satine I knew wouldn’t have stayed still long enough for a yoga class.”

“Well, twenty-five year old Satine grew tired of the stress fractures that made her do nothing but sit still, and she had to figure out an alternative.” She shrugs. “It’s probably for the best. My long-distance running friends now have the beginnings of osteoarthritis, and my joints seem to be better off than theirs.”

As he laughs, she feels his hot breath against her skin. His lips begin to move up her spine. “No signs of the remnants of a tan,” he says as he plants kisses between her shoulder blades. “Do you not ever go on vacation?”

“Maybe I’m just particularly careful with my sunscreen regimen.”

Ben snorts. “You always did burn at the slightest exposure.”

“One of the reasons I fit right in in Norway,” Satine agrees.

“But you didn’t answer my question.”

Satine sighs. “You know the life of an academic. It’s pretty similar to the life of a State Department employee. Technically I got vacation time, but there really wasn’t time to use it. There was always some other crisis to address.”

Ben kisses her shoulder. “We should go on vacation,” he says.

Satine glances over her shoulder at him. “You mean for Spring Break?”

“As much as I would love to take you somewhere for Spring Break, I actually am flying out to Wisconsin that week.”

Satine has to laugh at this. “Wisconsin in the beginning of April? Not the ideal time for a visit.”

“I’d tend to agree with you. But this trip comes six years too late.”

There’s sadness in his tone, and Satine reaches out to pull one of his hands so that it rests beneath her, bordered by her own.

“My advisor wrote me into his will. I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with it when I graduated, and I’ve been putting it off ever since. Maybe my way of pretending he’s not really gone? Anyway.”

Satine feels his lips on her shoulder blade, his beard scratching her skin.

“He left me his field notes and his key informant interview recordings. Maybe there was something important in there he wanted me to publish.”

She holds his hand more tightly. “Kind of morbid to include that in his will, don’t you think?”

She feels him shrug. “I thought so at first, too, but…Russia wasn’t a safe place to do field work. He knew that. And Anakin let slip he told you what I thought my advisor was really doing over there, so maybe he had his reasons for being morbid. He had a life-partner, Tahl, who oversaw the will. The two of them were incredibly low profile, so much so that I only learned of Tahl's existence after he died. It'll be the first time I meet her.”

Ben squeezes her fingers.

“At any rate, there’s this incredible woman here in the District whom I’m trying to convince of my emotional availability, and I figure that this trip is a good first step.”

Satine ducks her head to kiss his knuckles, and she feels Ben’s lips return to her scapula.

“But in regard to vacation,” says Ben, “I meant this summer. You’ll have moved in. Now, we didn’t actually talk about this, but I’m assuming that means you’ll give up your apartment, right?”

Satine nods. “If word got around that I still had it, I think it would make people question whether I was fully committed.”

He’s kissing the crook of her neck now. “Well, when you move in, that’s only one location the two of us have to pay rent on, as opposed to two. We should splurge - would you like to go to the beach? I assume you can work from anywhere, and the only class I’m teaching in the summer term is online anyway.”

“You just want an excuse to get me in a bikini and be able to feel me up whenever I need to reapply sunscreen. Which, fortunately for you, is quite often.”

“So is that you giving your approval?” His lips are on the nape of her neck, moving to her other shoulder.

“Perhaps,” says Satine.

His hands suddenly flip her over, and she knows he wants to study her expression. “Perhaps?” he quotes.

But the cold air against her skin makes Satine suddenly hyper-aware that she had neglected to wear a bralette to bed last night. Ben seems to notice at the exact moment she does.

“Let’s come back to this discussion,” he says. “I’m finding myself momentarily distracted.”

Satine quirks a brow. “Oh?”

Ben leans toward her. “Is this okay?” he whispers, watching her eyes. When she nods, he kisses the side of one breast.

Satine closes her eyes, letting herself sink back into the pillows.

He licks her skin, swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

“I told you,” he says, his voice clipped, “back when we met again, that you were more beautiful than ever. And even then, I had no fucking idea how right I was.”

He returns his attention to her skin.

Satine smiles as she feels his fingers move to her other breast, kneading her nipple. “Ben,” she whispers, opening her eyes, and he looks up at her, curious. “Can we just do this? Not go any further. Just this.” She closes her eyes again. “It feels…it feels so good.”

“I’m yours to command,” Ben says, and the reverence in his tone could make her cry.

She reaches out to tangle her fingers in his hair, holding him to her.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[badjokesbyjeff]

A blonde walks in a bank to get a loan. “I need to borrow $100 for a month,” she says. 

The banker frowns, but takes her information anyway. He runs her credit but can’t find a report. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but in the absence of a credit record, we’ll have to charge 20% interest on the loan, and you’ll need to put up collateral.

“What does that mean?” the blonde says.

“It means,” the banker says, “you’ll have to repay us $120, and you’ll need to give us something more valuable to hold onto until you pay us back.”

“Something more valuable?” The blonde says. “How about my Ferrari?”

The banker nearly snorts his coffee all over his desk, but he prides himself on customer service so he soldiers on. He runs the title on the Ferrari and what do you know, the blonde owns it free and clear. “Okay, he says, “I’ll print out the papers.”

“Just so I understand,” the blonde says, “I give you my Ferrari and you give me a hundred dollars, right? And then in a month, I give you $120 and you give me my Ferrari back?”

“Yes,” the banker says, “that’s the deal.”

She signs the paperwork and hands him the keys. He counts out $100 for her and watches her saunter out the door.

A month to the day later, he’s sitting at his desk when the blonde saunters back in. She hands him $120 and says “I get my car back, right?”

“Yep, he says as he hands her the keys. She turns to go but he stops her. “Miss, I really have to ask, why did you use a $140,000 car as collateral on a $100 loan?”

“Oh!” The blonde says. “I got called out of town unexpectedly on business. How else can I park a Ferrari for a month in Manhattan for only $20?”

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[mostly-imagines]

There’s A String Tied to My Lower Left Rib, Third From The Bottom

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka the professional boyfriend

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader wears dresses, sexual content at the end (18+)

Dick Grayson is a vigilante. He’s a master martial artist and gymnast. He’s something of a playboy and a heavy flirt. But the claim he really takes pride in is that he’s basically a professional boyfriend. That he’s your professional boyfriend.

And pride really is the right word. He’s so proud that he gets to have this pretty girl on his arm and buy her pretty things even when you insist you have enough. He loves getting to help you take your makeup off when you’re too tired and make you laugh like it’s his job. He’s absolutely gratified that he gets to be your prodigal, sweet boyfriend that, despite your protests, insisted on carrying all five of your shopping bags for you.

You step over an uneven stretch in the sidewalk and lean slightly against Dick’s shoulder. “I’m worried the navy one is too…much.” You say, thinking back to how the blue cocktail dress fit on you, how it stopped barely below your ass.

He furrows his eyebrows with a pout, “Too much?”

You look over at him, matching his expression. “It’s really short. I mean it’s cute and I like it, but…I don’t know, this is kind of a fancy event isn’t it?” 

He puckers his lips, shaking his head. “Short’s good. I like short.” Yeah, you’d noticed with the way his eyes had been glued to the hem of your dress, willing it to slip up just a little more.

You laugh, “And I’m sure you and all the old businessmen will appreciate it greatly.”

His face drops at that, not thrilled at the prospect of those, usually very sleazy, old men getting to see so much of you. “The black one’s good too.”

You peer over into one of the bags, “Or there’s the red one with the—”

Dick shakes his head quickly, “Not red.”

You snicker at that, knowing full well what his problem is with it. “Then why did I get it?”

“Just for me.” He pauses, “Or for something my brother won’t be at.” He mumbles, scanning both sides of the street. He shuffles the bags in his right hand onto his forearm so he can take your hand in his as you step into the road. “No, the black one looked great on you. And we won’t have to go searching for a matching tie.” 

Once you reach the other side he lets go of your hand and he circles behind you, nudging you over to the inside of the sidewalk.

You glance down at the row of bags littering his arms and the red indents beginning to mark his skin. “Will you please let me hold some?” You frown.

“Will you please hold my hand?” He echoes, matching your serious tone with faux urgency of his own. You deadpan him but take his hand anyway. You don’t notice it, but he’s got a dedicated gaze focused on your fingers intertwined in his.

You continue on down the street, hand in hand, the warm sun shining on your necks. You pick up the pace a bit as you approach your apartment building, aiming to get the door for your boyfriend. You reach for the handle only for Dick to call out, “Don’t touch that!” followed by him clamoring like you’re about to touch a hot coal, rushing over to beat you to the punch.

“Oh my god..” you mumble to yourself, biting back a smile. The bags haphazardly fall further down his arms, no doubt uncomfortably as he pulls the door open for you, pretending to be far more eloquent than he actually was. He gestures you in and smiles sweetly at you when you give him a flat look. 

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him with amusement glittering across your face as you dig for your keys.

“Not a thing.” He grins, watching with adoration as you open the apartment door. Frankly, you’re surprised he didn’t attempt to juggle the bags and unlock the door himself.

He kicks the door shut behind him as you help slide the bags off of his wrists, piling them on the counter. “When do we need to leave?”

“Uh…” he glances at the wall clock, “Not till seven.” He places his hands nicely on your waist, looking down at your lips. “You wanna get something to eat before we go?”

You muse, “This is the one with those mini stakes, isn’t it?” He nods. “No, I wanna get my fill on those. Oh, and the bruschettas! I love these caterers.”

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

You break away from his gaze and turn to the counter, preparing to scoop the shopping bags up when you’re interrupted by his relentless fervor.

“Ah, ah.” He hooks a finger into the loop of your jeans, tugging you back to him. “Give me a kiss.” 

“Dick.”

“Just one.” Yeah, right. You oblige him though, pushing up on your toes to meet his lips. His thumb strokes your cheek as he kisses you deeply. You break the kiss after a moment only for him to chase your lips to follow it up with another. And then another. And another. He hums against your lips, smiling wide. “Thank you, baby.”

You pull back again and smile as you stop his chest with your hand when he follows. “Ah, I’m not new around here. I know where this’ll go if I let you.”

He nods complaisantly, “Then let me.” His eyes are focused on the small space between you, where his touch lingers along your ring finger. You lean up again and place a kiss on his forehead that has him getting hopeful, only to be met with disappointment when you back away from him, bags in hand. He throws his head back with a groan just to really hammer home the severity of his dismay.  

It doesn’t last too long though because the second you’re back in the room he’s trailing after you like a puppy, following you down to the couch. You roll your eyes at him when he opts to sit ridiculously close to you, though there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips that makes your act lose all credibility.   

He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and is clearly very pleased when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You exhale contentedly, resting your cheek against his head. You lie idle like that for a few minutes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and casting a daydreaming gaze out the window. And apparently, he was daydreaming too. 

“I wanna marry you.” He murmurs into your neck after a while. 

You laugh incredulously, “Have you been drinking when I have my back turned?”

“‘M serious.” He nudges you off him so he can look at you.

You hum, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “You’re being very…” you scrunch up your mouth to the side, “…Ostentatious today.” 

He barks out a laugh, “Wow. Word-A-Day teach you that one?”

You shove at his forehead back with no real force, biting back a giggle. His eyes flicker back and forth between your mouth and the crinkle in your eyes as he grins. “I’m going to let that one go because you got me some really nice clothes today. As your repayment.” you say, running your finger over his lips. 

He takes your hand, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Let me marry you?” 

You sigh bashfully, “Dick—”

“Please?” He sticks his bottom lip out and gives you his puppy eyes, causing you to avert your gaze quickly. You’re not convinced he doesn’t have a superpower in that area.

You know he’s not really proposing right now, he’s too much of a romantic to do it like this. He’s just getting the idea in your head, getting you excited about it. It’s working.

“I’d be such a good husband to you.” He kisses your collarbone, “So good.” He murmurs against your skin, lips never departing. You struggle to keep your face neutral, making a point of closing your eyes in an attempt to increase your odds of success. He’s being nice though, you know. To let you play pretend right now when you know he could break your facade in a second if he really wanted to.  

“Mrs. Grayson…” he squeezes your hips, lips traveling further down. “Doesn’t that sound pretty?”

It really does. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying him before. He’s nothing if not husband material and honestly you really really want to hear him call you his wife. Call him your husband.

Your hand moves to his hair, petting it softly as he goes on. “Buy you a nice ring. Pretty white dress ‘n a big party just for you.” He brushes your shirt up and trails open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your chest feels warm and you can feel your pulse thrumming all throughout your body.

He slowly guides your underwear down your thighs, his lips following the hem close behind. “Come home to you every night, kiss these pretty thighs,” He scoops both of your hands up in one of his, pinning them to your stomach. “Kiss this pretty pussy.” He places a chaste kiss on your clit and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re not nearly as hesitant on this as you’re pretending to be, and you both know it. But he’s perfectly fine with begging a little while you pretend you’re not lightheaded at the idea of marrying him. “I’ll think about it…” 

He grins at you before going in on your core without mercy.

He’s trying real hard to land that promotion.

🩵 reblogging = supporting; likes don’t do the job 🩵

[slttygeto]

SO, YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? | GETO S.

synopsis: when watching a certain scary movie gives your husband, suguru, the perfect idea on how to ruin you.

c.w: p0rn with plot, fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink (hehe<3), slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, im obsessed with suguru's arms, clit smack, multiple orgasms.

word count: 2,1k

note: i am BRICKED after writing this. happy halloween hehe.

ghostface suguru! ( @aurelianamu )

In a dimly lit room, at around 10PM—it was a bit cold outside, the perfect weather to snuggle up and watch some movies. Romance movies? No, you did that last week. Action movie? Eh, you were not in the mood for that—oh, Scream. Your thumb presses on the movie before you put the remote control down and walk towards the kitchen to grab some snacks.

“Sugu, I picked a movie!” you announce as you make your way out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Your husband marches down the stairs in a lazy manner, his long strands messily sticking out of his ponytail that he has to stop and tie it up again. He sees what movie you picked and he stands behind you on the couch.

“Scream?” he questions, hands resting on your shoulders.

“First movie, pretty iconic.”

“I don’t think it’s that scary though,” he doesn’t really say that he would rather watch something else, simply joins you on the couch and pulls you towards him with the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

The movie is indeed not that scary, you kept quoting some of the lines here and there, which earned you a chuckle from Suguru every time.

“No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel,” you say in the same voice and attitude and your husband runs a hand through your hair.

“I think you’d easily outsmart him,” your husband is very supportive of you, but instead of making fun of his statement, your heart thrums in your chest when you picture Suguru in the ghostface mask.

“Really?” you look up at him through your eyelashes but Suguru is staring ahead and doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving him.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty stupid—minus Sidney, I mean the fact that—“ your husband goes on a three minute ramble about the plot, how he appreciates the intelligence of the main character all while saying that the choice of the ghostface killers was nice. Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking of something else. Something far dirtier than intended.

“Baby,” you cut him off from his ramble and he hums in response.

“You’d be pretty hot as ghostface.” Suguru looks down on you when you say that and raises both eyebrows knowingly.

“Are you insinuating something?” To which you shrug your shoulders before staring back at the big screen in your living room, playing innocent.

“Just saying.”

You weren’t just saying, you knew exactly what you were doing. The next day, you’re sat on your bed folding laundry while watching the newest episode to your favorite podcast. You liked keeping your brain stimulated, and it distracted you from the fact that your husband was always gone for long hours during the day. But when you hear the keys rustling and the front door opening, you raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. Today’s mission must’ve been quick, you think to yourself.

“Welcome home!” you call out from your bedroom but don’t bother to get up, you knew he would come to your bedroom immediately so you keep your eyes on your computer and go back to folding the laundry.

A couple of minutes pass and Suguru doesn’t walk inside the bedroom, so you start getting a little suspicious and decide to go check on him.

“Sugu?” you walk out of the bedroom and notice how the lights downstairs are turned off. You remember leaving them on for him, so he must’ve turned them off on his way upstairs—but where was he?

“Baby, are you in the shower?” the lights in the bathroom were on but the door was closed. Suguru never walked to the bathroom first without greeting you—unless something was wrong. You put your hand on the door handle, but before you could twist the knob, a warm and rough hand covers your mouth and your blood runs cold when you’re being pulled into a different room.

You don’t have time to scream or panic, because when you’re being pinned to the wall by a rather familiar set of hands, your eyes almost bulge out of your skull when you notice the ghostface mask. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks flushed but there’s no sign of panic because you know who this is—the dragon tattoo peeking out of his shirt and the wedding band on his ring finger are enough evidence.

“Do you like scary movies?” Suguru’s voice sounds silky smooth, but the flirting connotation to it has your heart leaping out of your chest.

“Sugu—“

“Wrong,” he pins both hands above your head and his body is so close to yours that you feel the heat radiating off of it. “Let’s try again, I know my girl is smart.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, but you play along and nod sheepishly.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Mhm,”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He traces a finger over your cheek, and the arousal slowly starts pooling between your legs.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you reply in a similar flirtatious tone, nervousness long gone. The realization that you didn’t have to explicitly tell your husband about the ghostface mask and him buying it for your pleasure made all of this very thrilling.

“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“Hm, Halloween,” you stick to the same script of the movie, you buck your hips towards him but he pushes a knee between your legs and pins you again to the wall. “Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask that walks around and stalks baby sitters?”

“Yeah,” Suguru breathes out and takes in how gorgeous you look like this—how he should’ve thought of doing this a long time ago. Your eyes were blown out with lust, chest heaving in excitement all while allowing him to play with you like this. He could feel his pants tighten and his cock was slowly getting hard from knowing exactly what was coming.

“What’s yours?” you bring him out of his thoughts and although you can’t see his face, you know that he was giving you that signature charming smile that always won over your heart.

“Guess.” He purrs out and you subconsciously start grinding against his knee before giving him a reply.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,”

“Wrong,” Suguru goes off script and your lips part for a moment. You’re about to complain, tell him that this wasn’t in the movie—he lets go of your wrists and throws you over his shoulder, delivering a harsh smack to your ass, his rough hand kneads the skin as he makes his way towards your bedroom.

“Better luck next time,” he throws you on the bed and you let out a gasp when your back hits the mattress. You try to sit up, but your husband grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards the end of the bed. “Now let’s see just how fucking filthy you are,”

He parts your legs with his big hands covering the plush skin of your thighs, and you whine out when he removes your shorts to reveal your panties that had an obvious wet patch on them.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out and lifts up the mask enough for his mouth and nose to be visible. He presses his nose against your panties and takes a whiff of your arousal, the sight is obscene and your face turns red at how pussy drunk he sounds. “Fuck, fuck—should’ve done this sooner baby, you smell so fucking good,” he gives your pussy a kiss through the fabric of your panties before his fingers remove them so messily that you let out a startled noise.

Suguru dives in between your legs and the wet sounds are dirty and make you feel even more turned on. His tongue laps at your clit, fingers pulling the hood back before spitting on it and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks. Two of his thick fingers prod at your entrance, gathering some of the slick that’s pooled there before pushing a single finger inside.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl,” he breathes out against your clit before giving it a kiss as he pushes the second finger inside. “Yeah, this pussy loves being stuffed by me—fuck, you’re so wet for me. All because of this mask baby girl?” his tone is playful but you’re far too gone to complain and just mindlessly nod.

“So drunk off of me and I haven’t even given you my cock,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you all while curling them to find that one spot inside you. He licks, sucks and spits on your clit with so much passion and when he finds that one spot, you let him know pretty quickly.

“Oh!” you gasp and your thighs shake. “S-Suguru, oh fuck--!” his wrist is burning as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, and the veins in his forearm are bulging out from the sheer strength he is using to finger fuck you until you see white. His free hand comes down and presses against your stomach to apply pressure and keep you pinned down.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to stare at him. His hand is covered in your arousal, but what truly pushes you over the edge is the fact that his mask had come down and was covering his face entirely. So when he decides to talk you through it, give you that one final push—the ghostface mask seems to intensify the orgasm tenfold.

“I know you’re a good girl, but I’m gonna need you to get dirty for me baby—there it is, theeere it is,” he sounds proud when you finally cum, and you’re loud. You whine and let out soft cries, your hands weakly push at his arm when he keeps fingering you through your orgasm.

“Suguru—too much!” you cry out and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of your soaking pussy to slap your clit.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he quickly starts to unbuckle his belt and pushes his pants enough to free his cock. The tip nudges at your folds and your husband hovers over you with his lean stature. Big broad shoulders cover your entire frame and you’re fucked out from your previous orgasm.

“I’m going in baby, let me in,” your legs spread instinctively to welcome him inside of you and you groan when you feel the sheer size of him inside you. Your hands grip at the back of his shirt, but Suguru holds himself up on his forearms so that you look at his mask.

“Yeah, that’s right—look at me baby, filthy fucking girl,” his strokes were slow but hard. His hands grab at the back of your thighs and push them before fucking into you harder. “You like it, huh?” you couldn’t even give a proper response, only mindlessly nodding when you could feel him even deeper inside you.

He pushes your knees to your chest before setting a dizzying pace. You feel so full of him, so full of his thick cock and Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head behind his mask every time he felt your pussy squeeze around him. His finger rubs at your clit the same way that you’ve shown him you like it, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart underneath him with a loud cry.

Your orgasm hits you hard and Suguru can’t hold it in any longer—he fucks into you for another minute, head buried in your neck as he groans out your name. Your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you.

You lay there breathing heavily, and you weakly reach for the ghostface mask and remove it off of your husband to reveal his sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. He looks gorgeous like that, and you lock eyes for the first time since the entire night and you’re immediately pulled in towards one another.

Suguru kisses you with so much passion, dick still buried deep inside you and your legs stay wrapped around him as you two make out heavily under your sheets that stuck to your sweaty bodies. You pull away for a moment to kiss his forehead and Suguru closes his eyes as he melts at your touch.

“Thank you for that,” you say, so love struck that the man can’t help but chuckle at how breathless you sound.

“Let’s do it again, yeah?”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

—💭 if you like this, leave a tip!

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[peachylynnie]

sick

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: in which sylus sneaks into your apartment and finds you sick. yet, you're not resting. why?

contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating but sylus is pining and reader is confused), reader is implied to be in college, slightly obsessive sylus, mentions of violence and sickness, suggestive themes, cussing, and fluff.

a/n: i got sick yesterday. what better way to rest than to write about sylus? do NOT copy or steal my work. sylus WOULD NOT endorse plagiarism :)

you don't want to admit it. you really don't. but you're sick. there's no denying that with how short of breath you are, how nauseous you feel, and the goddamn soreness in the back of your throat that didn't go away with the first sip of water.

"shit…" you mumble as you sluggishly move to empty the dishwasher as your roommate asked. it's bad enough that you were sick, but you were also stressed out of your mind. midterms have been kicking your ass this semester. big assignments have been piling up on your already heavy shoulders. in essence, this was a burnout month, and all that lack of sleep and unparalleled stress had finally caught up to you. in the form of a cold, that is.

"of all the times," you grumble as you struggle to stack the dishes in the cabinet. "why now…" indeed, this was a terrible time to get sick. how were you to complete all your tasks while feeling absolutely miserable? you glance at the microwave clock in desperation. 10:00 PM, it read. although you meant to sigh a breath of relief, you let out a painful cough. maybe you could finish an assignment or two by midnight. that way, you can focus on studying tomorrow, you thought to yourself.

you sniff as you return to the dishwasher to unload the rest of the dishes. as much as you were happy for your roommate leaving for the weekend to finally see her family, you couldn't help but feel resentful. why were you here struggling to do the dishes while she got to have fun? shaking your head at your bitter thoughts, you bend down, trying to grab the utensils from the dishwasher. keyword: trying.

the sudden pair of strong arms that wrapped around you prevented you from doing so. normally, you would've swiftly elbowed the person behind you and turned around to land a hard blow that would have them seeing stars. instead, you exhale shakily. you recognize the mysterious backhugger's scent. the scent of sweet wine and sharp citrus. sylus.

how the hell did he get in? you don’t remember giving him a spare key when you told him your address. you look behind you, angling your head to meet his garnet eyes. "i did not give you my address just so you can sneak in like this," you say, trying your best not to sound like you're dying.

unfortunately, the nasal tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by sylus. instead of offering his usual quips, sylus furrows his brows and unclasps his right arm from your waist. you try not to flinch at the chill of his slender fingers touching your forehead. he frowns. "you're sick."

you immediately avert your gaze. "i'm not sick," you mutter as you try to bend down once more to grab the stupid utensils from the dishwasher. sylus doesn't let go. this time, he spins you around with his left arm, making sure that he can see you properly.

"you're burning up, sweetie." sylus says as flips the hand on your forehead for good measure. "you're sick and you know it."

you roll your eyes, squirming to get out of his grip. you did not want sylus to see you like this. a sick, miserable mess incapable of doing something as simple as emptying the dishwasher. you had an image to uphold after all. being vulnerable with someone like him could mean getting hurt again. last time you were vulnerable with someone… well, let's say you learned your lesson.

weakly, you push at sylus' arm around your waist with your small hands. you try not to think about how minuscule they looked next to sylus' deliciously veiny forearms. great, you're sick, and your mind decides to lust after sylus' arms. you shiver at your thoughts and attempt to push sylus' grip away once more. normally, escaping sylus' hold would be a reasonable task for you. after all, your sparring sessions with him prepared you to get out of sticky situations. but you were sick and exhausted out of your mind. all you could manage was a feeble squirm.

sylus' gaze moves from his hand on your forehead to your eyes. your half-lidded baggy eyes. his frown deepens. you looked extremely fatigued. your face was noticeably pale, and your intake of breath was short. not to mention, sylus could see the slight wince of pain whenever you tried to swallow your saliva. sylus sighs as he removes his hand on your forehead and replaces it with his own. you were neglecting yourself again.

under normal circumstances, you would've shied away from sylus' physical advancements. his hand on the small of your back? an immediate flinch and glare, signaling him to stop. a tap on the crown of your head? a swift jerk of your neck and avoidance of eye contact. instead—again, you blame it on your exhaustion—you tiredly close your eyes, relishing in sylus' cool forehead against your heated one. no resistance to be shown.

you don't see it, but sylus' sharp eyes soften at the sight of you accepting his touch. even with the eye bags and ghastly skin, you looked ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven to save him from his own solitary hell. as much as he wants to savor this moment of you finally giving into his touch, sylus knows what he must do. you're unwell and unrested. you need to be in bed immediately.

"you should be in bed, sweetie." sylus murmurs as he pulls away from your forehead. you try not to sulk at the loss of the soothing chill of his skin. though, not without feeling conflicted because why you would even sulk about him? for god's sake, he was a criminal. he's taken countless lives. not to mention, he choked you upon meeting you, called you a disappointment, and tried to alter you after three straight days of relentless attempts at a forced resonation… just thinking about him drives you nuts and being driven nuts is the last thing you want right now.

"i'm fine, sylus." it was your turn to pull away, trying to put as much distance between you two as his firm grip around your waist would allow. "besides, nothing a little old tea can't fix."

with that, you turn to face the dishwasher and reach for the utensils for the umpteenth time of the night. sylus sighs and pinches his nose bridge with his free hand. as much as he admired your stubbornness, he could not help but resent it at times like these. times when you were in desperate need of a break. before you can grab the utensils, you feel yourself get lifted off the ground effortlessly.

sylus' arm on your waist had moved to your shoulder, and his other arm was hooked under your thighs. he had you in bridal style in less than a second. your eyes widen, realizing the sudden change in positions. "what are you doing?!" you cough painfully. "put me down!"

you do your best to escape sylus' new grip on you by kicking your legs and squirming uncontrollably, but it was hopeless. you were weakened due to your sickness, and sylus was determined to make sure you looked only at him instead of the goddamn dishwasher. one more look at it, and he swears he's gonna break it with his evol.

quickly and confidently, sylus exits the kitchen with you in his arms and arrives at what he guesses is your shared bedroom with your roommate. he tries not to get distracted by the fact that this is his first time in your room. god, the entire space smelled so much like you, he wanted to become one with it and watch you forever and ever. dismissing his intrusive thoughts, sylus gently places you down on your bed and starts to cover you in your blanket.

"wait, sylus," you start, trying to get up. "i have to empty the dishwasher. i have homework, too." sylus tuts as he shakes his head, his messy silver locks following suit. although he doesn't respond, sylus continues to spread out your blanket. you furrow your eyebrows at his strange behavior. "sylus…" you whine. you actually whined. something you never thought you would do, especially in front of sylus. you could feel his intense gaze prick at you like little needles. you avoid his gaze, hoping to hide your flustered state.

adorable. that's what you are. incredibly adorable to the point sylus wants to grab your chin and force you to look at him as he coaxes more and more of your pretty whines out of you.

trying to fight his indecent thoughts, sylus locks eyes with you, a firm yet pleading look on his face. "you need to rest, sweetie," he leans in to adjust your pillow. "you won't get anything done in this state." you try to protest again, but sylus beats you to it. "rest. i'll take care of everything."

well, fuck. how can you say no when sylus, in all of his gorgeous glory, is centimeters from your face, telling you that he will take care of everything and asking you to do the one thing you've been longing to do for a very long time? besides, you felt sleepy ever since sylus took you in his arms. just this once. just this once, you'll allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. so that you can rest, of course. totally not because sylus had a way of comforting you so sweetly and breaking your defensive walls so charmingly.

your labored breathing slows as you cautiously nod. "fine," you yawn. "the utensils go in the very left drawer of the island while the pots and pans go in the stove oven, and…" you can feel sleep beckoning for you as you continue to list instructions. sylus can't help the grin that appears on his face as he watches your cute blinks grow in intervals.

"noted, sweetie." he caresses a stray hair strand out of your face. "i'll make sure everything is back where they belong." like you to him. though, he doesn't say that part out loud. maybe another day. when you are no longer wary of him and are willing to acknowledge his very obvious affection for you. deep in his fantasy, sylus almost misses your cute snores. he chuckles, taking this chance to admire you now that you've fallen asleep.

you truly were an angel. the way your eyebrows furrowed here and there in your sleep. the way your plump lips parted at times. the way your button nose twitched sporadically. oh, sylus loved it all. he could watch you sleep forever. but he had a better task at hand: to take care of you. he assured you that he would take care of everything. and sylus is a man of his words. carefully to not wake you, sylus cups your face with his right hand. closing his eyes, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead.

"rest well, sweetie. i'll see you soon."

[nativegirltapes]

drew didn’t like to make a big deal out of his birthday, but unfortunately (fortunately) for him, he’s dating angel, the girl who makes it her life mission to celebrate his birthday !

notes — small birthday blurb for my babydaddyyyy <3 nothing that special.

you knew it was dangerous when drew gave you a copy of his key for his apartment. coming to steal his clothes and dig in his snacks was fun and sneaky, but planning a surprise party for him while he was away all day was definitely at the top of the list.

“i want everything to be perfect! we need to rehearse one more time!” you shouted. “everyone get in position!”

“really?” JD complained, although he was definitely speaking for everyone involved in the surprise. this was your 6th time making everyone rehearse for when drew got home. “yes. really. now get in position.” you rebutted, everyone ultimately listened and got into position. they knew how much this meant to you. they knew how much drew meant to you.

“wait!” your eyes shot open at the noise of drew stomping down the hallway. “he’s actually here! everyone positions now! for real this time!” you took your spot standing a few feet from the door, holding the fresh flowers you bought for drew.

your stomach did flips as you heard drew fiddling with the lock, you just wanted everything to be perfect for him. and more importantly you just wanted him to like it.

“SURPRISE!” everyone shouted as drew opened the door. a huge grin took over his face as he set his bag on the floor, immediately coming to embrace you.

you heard mumbled ‘happy birthday drew’s’ being yelled by everyone as he hugged you. he left kisses all along your ear and cheeks, “happy birthday drew.” you said softly, pulling away from the hug and giving drew his flowers. you were surrounded by dozens of people but still this moment felt so intimate. “thank you baby.” drew kissed you before making his way to his other friends and guests that you’d managed to all round up on the same day, all to celebrate him.

⋆˚࿔ 🎂 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

after a few hours of socializing with drew’s friends and castmates, some of who you loved and some of which you couldn’t stand, you’d finally gotten drew alone upstairs in his room for a bit.

“you did all this for me?” drew wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. a small smirk took over his face as he looked down at you. you looked absolutely stunning. you couldve gotten him nothing and he’d still be happy just being able to come home to you.

“yes.” you batted your lashes, your soft voice giving him butterflies. “there isn’t anyone else i would want to do it for.” you stood on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “you mean that?” drew teased, his hands making there way down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“do you want to find out?” you pulled him by the collar of his shirt back to the bed. drew wasn’t the only one getting what he wanted for his birthday.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Please Come Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.

Word count: 3.3k

TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults

Your spare key is missing.

Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?

When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.

When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?

You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?

Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.

At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.

You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.

In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?

I think I lost it.

I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?

Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.

I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.

I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you

I love you, too.

A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.

That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.

You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.

It lulls you into a false sense of security.

You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.

With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.

You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.

The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.

Your phone isn’t on the counter.

You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.

Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?

It’s not.

You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.

Still no response from Jason.

You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.

The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.

The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.

And now they’re gone.

Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?

He doesn’t respond right away.

Jay, this isn’t funny.

Still nothing.

Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.

Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.

You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.

You go straight to voicemail.

You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”

His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.

You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.

You chew on your thumbnail.

Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.

He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?

You call Jason again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.

Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.

No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.

Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.

Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.

Empty.

You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.

You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.

Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.

You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”

“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”

“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”

“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”

A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.

You scream.

Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.

He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…

Right into a stranger’s chest.

There are two of them?

An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”

You stab him in the stomach.

Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.

“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.

The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.

“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”

Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.

Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.

The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.

Where is Jason?

You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.

The man’s ugly face explodes.

You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.

More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?

It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.

Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.

Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.

You know those gloves.

Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.

Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.

You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.

You wipe it away.

Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.

You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.

Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.

You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.

Oh, God. Your best friend.

You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.

Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.

She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.

Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.

“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.

“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”

“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”

"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.

He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."

"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."

You nod numbly.

Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.

He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"

As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.

Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.

They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.

He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"

You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.

"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.

Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."

You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.

When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"

As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.

True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.

You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.

"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.

He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.

When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."

"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."

"I could feel that something was wrong."

Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"

"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."

Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.

Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."

Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.

Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.

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