#Outdoor outfit ideas

[primalgray01]

Discover the perfect blend of style and comfort with our comprehensive guide to trekking outfits. From breathable fabrics to versatile layering options, find the ideal gear for your next outdoor adventure. Whether you're scaling mountains or exploring trails, these handpicked outfits will keep you both fashionable and functional on the go

[zero-mori]

outfit inspo for the day!

check out the whole vid for more ideas :)

[shuruzy]

there's this pretty big plot point change for CotO that I'd been stubbornly not wanting to change for the past like 2 years, but I'm finally giving more thought to it. Especially since I think it'd help certain plot points a lot.

The change being that the characters have been living in a world that was turned into a snowscape after a catastrophic event, instead of being teleported to a mysterious snowy land.

...This does mean that Briar (a traveling merchant) would need an outfit adjustment.

[sublimecreatordreamer]

Baby Winter Clothes, Newborn Baby Bear Decor Warm Hooded Jumpsuit, Baby Clothes For Boys And Girls, Suitable For Indoor And Outdoor Wear

[roomselfcontain2]

Chamber and hall studio rooms visit website apartment to let cute house with contemporary facilities big wide wardrobe kitchen is spacious running water stable power supply daily located at Rumuosi new layout east west road ph city rivers state Nigeria

[marzipanandminutiae]

thinking about the infantiliztation and/or formalization of 19th-century women's clothing to modern audiences

like

our entire reference point for "wearing long skirts and outfits with decoration like lace, embroidery, appliques, etc." is either formalwear or fictional characters in children's media like Disney princesses. women's clothing is just so radically different now- not that those elements don't exist, but they're much less common in everyday clothing than they once were. some form of simple trousers and an equally simple top are de rigeur for everyday attire, and anything else is Fancy

combined with the fact- which is true! -that a lot of what survives to end up in big museums belonged to wealthy people, this ends up in wild assumptions like "basically our entire idea of what the Victorians dressed like is just Rich People Clothes really"

which has led to the eternal cry of "but what did NORMAL people wear?!?!?!" that will not be satisfied with real examples of middle or even working-class everyday clothing because it still looks too "fancy" to modern eyes

not Victorian, but a great example of this is what Abby Cox wore to portray a milliner (hatmaker) in Colonial Williamsburg. a working, middle-class woman:

(ignore the facial expression there)

this is the exact outfit she sported in a video that apparently got responses like "but that's just what rich women wore!" and it is, in fact, everyday attire for a working person. a person who worked in the fashion industry, it's true, but still

I had someone ask me about how to find examples of casual Victorian clothing because they were at their wits' end trying to research it. and I had to tell them that...what they were looking at WAS casual. in the sense of Clothing For Everyday Wear That's Not Especially Formal. there's nothing inherently formal, or exclusive to the wealthy, about a matched bodice-and-skirt dress, instep-length, with some trim. or even a trimmed blouse and skirt. obviously women working the absolute hardest outdoor, physical jobs might have adopted occupational trousers or similar, but we don't all dress like construction or farm workers all the time nowadays. why would they have back then?

Laundresses, probably 1850s or early 60s. Note that I can STILL date the picture based on their outfits and hair, and these are the furthest things from wealthy socialites.

Maid scrubbing steps, probably 1870s or 1880s. Note pleated trim on her skirt and what appears to be a peplum at the back of her bodice.

also, not all working women worked physical jobs any more than we do today. here is a teacher around the turn of the 20th century:

Teachers, 1887

"Breton Seamstresses," 1845, by Jules Trayer

were there differences in quality, type and quantity of trim, fit, etc? obviously. but some people are convinced that the basic outfit format can't POSSIBLY have been something ordinary women wore, because it looks formal and/or princess-y in a modern context

[thebluester2020]

ok but reading your latest sdv headcanons has given me an idea. You wrote Sam being horns for farmer in a sundress and it's has unlocked in me the feminine urge to be railed in a sundress. I'd love to see your take on it with the sdv bachelors.

SDV Bachelors x Fucking Farmer In A Sundress Summary: Bachelors to you looking too pretty in a sundress. [Includes; Elliot, Sebastion and Lance (From SDV Expanded)] Warning(s): No established relationships (I'm in a mood for FWB relationships + unrequited love what can I say?), Elliot low-key sluts out the reader, Elliot and the reader are kinda tipsy in his part but the sex is consensual dw, Sebastion is kinda a needy hopeless romantic and jerks off to the thought of the farmer, Alex and the farmer have sex outdoors like true outdoorsy people do 💪. Side notes: I only included three bachelors because- lol I gotta put all my focus on this other SDV fic. It's a bit longer so I need more time on that.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

The man nearly keels over when he sees you in a sundress. It was when you first introduced yourself to him actually! After that though? He was hooked on you like a drug.

Not necessarily in a perv way but more so in an "I definitely have a crush on them" type of way.

But he more or less keeps it in his pants until he spots you again but this time? It was at the Stardrop Saloon and both you and him were tipsy after sharing a beer.

Tensions were flying and after you placed a hand on his thigh? Y'all were fucking in one of the more secluded rooms in the saloon because y'all didn't have a chance in hell of making it home.

♡ - "Oh Yoba...Fuck—" A choked up uncharacteristically needy whine escaped the lips of the writer as he fucked you on the wooden floors of the Stardrop Saloon.

Despite the tipsy haze his vision had however, no amount of beer could dampen your beauty and the fact that you were the most captivating person in this entire tavern. From the first day he met you to now, those were his thoughts but tonight? Oh, they increased tenfold when you waltzed through the doors, unaware of how you stole his very breath with your outfit.

A simple brown sundress that was mid-thigh length and only had thin spaghetti straps to keep your outfit up upon your shoulders. The deep v-neck of your dress barely leaving your dress to the imagination as small beads of sweet dripped down your skin and between the valley of your chest. Combined with the scent of your perfume, how you looked at him when you sat beside him and the light application of your make-up.

All of it served to make him absolutely dizzy.

To the point where the quickly growing tension between the two of you, fueled by your brief touches and your conversations growing more and more naughty.

There was no way that the two of you could wait to get home to either of your houses.

No, it needed to be handled now.

"Y-You must've wanted this to happen, my dear...didn't you?" He moaned in your ear as his chest was pressed against your back. His thrusts sloppy and rough as he hugged you so tightly you had a mind to think he was trying to bury himself into your skin. "Yoba your sooooooo pretty." He continued to pant into your ear like a dog in heat.

You responded with a breathy moan, your head turning briefly to slot your lips against Elliot's. Quickly, Elliot lightly bit at your lower lip, prompting a gasp from you that allowed his tongue to slip in. His tongue tasting every area inside your mouth before you two parted with a single string of spit still connecting the two of you.

When Elliot's eyes refocused on yours, however, his moans began to increase in volume as his thrusts started to pick up pace in lieu of his impending orgasm. He swore he was falling deeper and deeper into the pit of his crush that he had on you, to the point where he dared to say that he was falling in love with you.

"Y/N...Oh fuck..." Elliot continued to moan your name as he grew closer to his orgasm, his moans getting higher and higher as he struggled to hold onto his sense of self and not spill out the fact he had a bigger crush on you than this moment could portray.

But, you beat him to it. "Elliot...I-I love you, s-so m-much." You said.

Another choked-up grunt spilled from Eliot's lips at the confession before you felt your insides being flooded with a searing heat, his own orgasm pushing you over the edge as you shuddered at the force of your climax. Your vision temporarily went black before you slowly returned back to Earth. Your skin was sticky with sweat whilst your slick drenched the back of your thighs and Elliot's cock.

"So..." Elliot spoke, breaking the post-climax silence. "You love me, hm?"

Sebastion

I'm going to spoil myself a little and imagine he saw you in a sundress once and practically never again.

However, that didn't mean he didn't stop thinking about it.

After seeing you, he developed a crush on you that he was too shy to really do anything about (completely ignoring the way you visited his room constantly to deliver frozen tears to him).

So to satiate his lust for you?

Masturbate ofc, with you being front and center in his mind.

♡ - He's tried so hard to avoid doing this.

But, he feels like a little self-credit is due here. It wasn't like he wanted to be in this position right now! Where he was left alone in the middle of the day due to his family apparently wanting to go to a town event that didn't interest him in the slightest. And although he was currently lying in bed, trying to doze off, his mind wouldn't leave a particular thought of you.

It was around the time when you came to visit his mother for some supplies he believes. The smell of perfume that smelled like lavender and cherries brought him out of his room he admits, Sebastion never smelled anything like it and it was as intoxicating as wine...and like a dog expecting a treat, he followed it out of his room and up the short case of stairs before he peeked around the corner and saw you.

A simple black sundress with a skull plastered on the front where the top of your breasts threatened to spill out.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his cock was hard.

Now he was here, in his bed, and hornier than he'd ever been before, and you were the cause. But Sebastion couldn't bring himself to feel too bad afterward when he began to palm himself over his pants, sucking in a sharp breath in-between his teeth as the image of your started to appear in his mind like someone had cast a spell on him.

It was as if you were really there. The smell of your perfume from that day, the sundress, your soft skin and kind smile...everything. And when the vision of you started to trail kisses down his neck and down his front...lifting up the front of his hoodie and everything until you finally reached the place he wanted you to touch most when you wrapped your pretty pink-tinted lips around his leaky cock.

He could've sworn you were really there.

Looking up at him through your long lashes as if he were the most important person in the world, the only one in the world deserving of your time and attention. No matter how unrealistic it may have been, a shut-in like himself? Dating the prettiest person in the valley?

A laugh almost slipped from behind his hand as he covered his lips, his free hand desperately tugging at his dick to the vision of you. Soft pants escaped his lips as he honed in on the image of your head bobbing up and down on his cock, lewd sucking and slurping leaving your lips.

He was so close...sososososo close...until you stopped.

You moved to sit up, winking his way before you lifted up your dress a little and moved to straddle him, pulling your panties to the side before you slipped down onto him.

He nearly came in his pants at the thought of how your wet walls would feel around him. How soft and warm they would be as they hugged his dick so tightly that he feared the air inside his lungs would all but be choked out, his moans increasing in volume and growing increasingly needier and needier as he imagined your soft touches. Your nails raking down his sides and leaving delectable goosebumps in their wake as you moved your hips up and down.

"Y/N...Oh fuck...! Y-Y/N..." Sebastion moaned as you began to quicken your pace, the sound of his name from your lips getting him off more than he was prepared to admit to himself before...there was suddenly a knock at his door. The way the vision in his head slipped away so fast, it nearly made him want to cuss out the person who dared to knock as well as cry at the same time.

Until he heard a familiar "Sebastion? Are you awake? I have a gift for you!" Immediately, his cock twitched at your voice, his brain's imaginations started to conjure back up again as the slightest feeling of...hope, perhaps started to dot his mind.

It seemed he had a bigger crush on you than he thought.

And he prayed that one day, his imagination would come true that you liked him just as much.

Alex

He's bold when he sees you in a sundress. He first sees you in one when he's visiting your farm (Evelyn wanted him to deliver some home-baked cookies to the farmer, how sweet of her)

So check this out, you're doing your farming work and you drop something.

You thinking that no one's around, you get on your hands and knees to fully pick the item up and this steals Alex's breath to the max because he gets a perfect view of your underwear.

A lacy blue thong that, in his mind, couldn't even be considered underwear!

Right then and there, he wants to fuck you.

Luckily, you've been wanting to fuck him as well!

♡ - An unabashed moan left your lips as your hands slightly slipped on the dirt beneath you, the sounds of grunting and slapping from behind you nearly drowning out the sounds of the cicadas from the summer heat.

You'd been attracted to Alex for a while, a simple and sweet-hearted crush that stemmed from the fact that he more or less made his attraction clear to you.

From the way he'd call out your name and invite you to hang out with him, to how he'd initiate close contact with you whenever the both of you were around each other to even now! Even as he pistoned into your needy pussy, your slick dripping down onto the dirt below as he pressed his hand down into the dip in your back to force you into an arch, your heart still got a fuzzy feeling out of your crush for him!

Though...you suspected that, at this moment, calling your attraction a mere "crush" wasn't exactly correct.

"F-Fuck—" Your breath caught in your throat when Alex leaned some of his weight down onto your back, his fingers moving to circle and pinch at your clit.

"Ssshhiiittt." He moaned hotly into your ear, a cocky chuckle following suit choked up aht-aht-ahts left your lips as he sped up his thrusts, a boiling coil beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. "You must've really wanted this to happen, huh farmer? Do you even hear yourself?" Alex said, your cheeks burning even more as Alex suddenly slowed his thrusts to grind his hips into you, the sound of your sticky slick sticking to the front of Alex's thighs making you both want to burst into flames out of sheer embarrassment as well as dig a hole to hide away in.

Of course, however, your newfound lover wasn't going to allow that to happen. Not after he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this to happen since the moment the two of you had met! The sound of your moans slipping from your pretty lips, wet and glistening from your heavy make-out session minutes earlier, the way your breasts bounced underneath you, flushed as pink as your face whilst your hard nipples were practically begging to be played with!

The sheer orgasmic rush that Alex felt...figuring out that the pretty farmer was a whore just waiting to be broken in by the right man. His cock twitched inside of your cunt at the mere thought, his thrusts resuming their original speed as more thoughts of you flashed through his mind.

Maybe a different position, on the bed perhaps? Your fingers dipping into your pussy as you moaned out his name and begged for him to take you against the wall?

Or even him fucking you on a table? In his room?

"A-Alex...~!" You cried out as your pussy began to twitch, a familiar burn beginning to tighten within the pit of your stomach.

"Dirty farmer, don't you dare cum without me." Alex hissed into your ear, a moan escaping his lips afterward. "Y-You need to have some energy to go a few more rounds...I-I'm breaking this pussy in."

At the thought and the act of Alex dragging your further on his cock, his cock pressed up against a spot deep inside of you that made stars appear in your vision. Your body convulsed from the sheer force of your orgasm as your thighs twitched whilst the energy drained from your arms. You would've plopped onto the ground had Alex not held up for your torso, his heavy panting and the warm full feeling inside of you a sign of his orgasm.

"You came a little earlier than me..." He clicked his tongue in false annoyance.

"Guess we have to go again, huh? Let's hope no one comes along farmer girl~"

[shurikthereject]

I've been re-reading A Hobbit's Gamble by CQueen on ao3 for the third time now and it had me imagining what Bilbo's clothes would look like if he stayed in Erebor and became Thorin's consort. I decided to create a balance between Hobbit and Dwarvish fashion for these two outfits, one being for the outdoors and the other for indoors. That being the the jacket, waist coast and capri pants mixed with capes and belts. The colour palette also become handy in creating that balance. I mixed Hobbit's bright colours and Durin's blue,which represents his statues in the royal family (This is also Thorin's favourite part of his outfits). It is often discussed how flowers and plants are important to Hobbits and with that I added embroidery of different flowers with meanings that are compatible with Bilbo. The flowers on his head are mostly just a replacement for a crown for day to day. Please comment if I should add something, I love reading your ideas!

[itertarot]

TAROT | YOU

Hobbies you should try:

Pick an image:

Close your eyes and take a deep breathe, listen to your intuition 🧚🏼‍♀️.

Pile 1:

- Making jewelry

- Tasting/Savoring beverages, such as wine, for example

- Blogging

- Sculpting

- Candle making

- Making ceramics

- Testing clothes, having a blog about clothes, getting into the fashion world, and even competing to see who creates the best outfit

- Crochet

- Knitting, sewing

- Giving reviews

- Talking about books

- Posting about health, weight loss, exercises, or just a healthier lifestyle

- Talking about healthy foods in a blog

- Dancing

- Yoga

Pile 2:

- Sewing

- Writing a book

- Reading a book

- Paint or buy artwork

- Create a fantasy world

- Create decorations

- Painting

- DIY projects

- Logical games

- Crime-solving games

- Learn a new language

- Camping

- Study animals

- Fishing

- Gardening

- Nature exploration

- Take care of your city

- Create different types of lamps or lights

- Swimming

- Raise fish

- Geocaching

- Cosplay

- Go for outdoor activities in nature

- Create things using items found in nature, like making a dream mandala or eco-friendly clothing

Pile 3:

- Learn something about finances

- Explore new ways to make money

- Hobbies that can bring you income

- Watch the moon and stars

- Learn astronomy

- Astrophotography

- Volleyball

- Beach sports

- Picnic

- Going outside

- Creating or taking care of flowers

- Start a garden

- Flower arrangement

- Photography

- Creating new ideas

- DIY projects

- Make drinks, especially those that fit summer

- Puzzles

- Swimming

- Painting the sky and sea

- Sit near water without your phone

- Pay attention to the present moment

- Go for walks in nature

- Yoga

- Pilates

- Play jumping games

- Meditation

- Create a hammock

- Build sandcastles

- Outdoor movie night

[pnghoon]

daddy's in a tutu !!

(🩰) ── 𝓟ARK JONGSEONG [제이] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, humor, married auㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol hubby !jay 𝔁 wife !reader ᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.3k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which you come back home to the sight of your husband in a pretty pink tutu (•̪ o •̪) ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ "unfortunately I can imagine him in a tutu if our daughter asked him too" is so jay coded. you will never not catch me yapping about husband jay..bc why is that man so hubby material. if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the snow was falling heavily outside, blanketing the world in a soft, white layer. inside your cozy home, you were busy getting ready for a day of much-needed errands.

bustling around the house, you pulled on your warmest winter coat and bundled up, ready to brave the icy roads.

before you left, you turned to your husband, jay, and your four year old daughter, yubin, who was sitting on the couch, hugging her favorite pink stuffed bunny.

you stared at your daughter's crestfallen face as she cuddled up beside jay. It was the inevitable that the four year old would be upset right now. due to the icy roads and heavy snow, today's ballet class was canceled, leaving yubin devastated.

“are you sure you'll be okay?” you asked, fixing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your purse.

jay looked up from the couch, where he was busy trying to cheer up yubin, her eyes still a bit puffy from the earlier tears and her nose resembling rudolph.

“we'll be fine,” he reassured with a smile, “right, princess?”

yubin nodded half-heartedly, a cute pout still present on her face as she clutched her bunny.

“you guys call me if you need anything,” you reminded them, pressing a kiss to jay's cheek and ruffling yubin's hair. “i'll be back soon.”

and with one last look at your two favorite people, you braved the snowy outdoors. the cold air nipped at your cheeks, but the promise of hot cocoa and a warm house kept you going.

you made your way to the car, shaking your head with a smile at how cute they looked together. little did you know, an adventure was unfolding inside.

jay and yubin huddled together in the living room, surrounded by the warmth of the heater and the faint sound of delicate snowflakes hitting the window.

yubin wore her little ballet outfit, a mini bun perched on the crown of her head as she practiced her pirouettes.

jay on the other hand, was trying his best to keep up with her, although his ballet skills were definitely less refined.

“okay binnie, let’s try that spin again,” jay said, puffing slightly. “i think i’ve got it now.”

yubin giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement as he watched her dad try to catch his breath from just a couple twirls.

“daddy, you’re doing great! but…”

“but what, sweetheart?” jay asked, glancing down at her with a raised brow.

“i think you need a tutu too!”

jay blinked. he hadn't anticipated that request. “a tu..tu? i don’t know if that’s a good idea honey...”

“pleeease, daddy?” yubin begged, giving him her best puppy eyes. “it’ll be so much fun!”

jay stared at his daughter for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the sight of her big round eyes staring up at him.

after a moment of thought, jay reluctantly sighed, giving in to her adorable plea. “alright, alright. if it’ll make you happy, i’ll wear a tutu.”

and with that, jay found himself sporting a frilly tutu that barely fit his hips, his face turning an adorable shade of pink to match the tutu. yubin clapped her hands in delight, twirling around in her own tutu.

“we're matching now daddy!” yubin cheered, jumping around in her ballet slippers.

jay laughed, looking down at the slight new change of wardrobe. it was definitely a combo to say the least, never in his life would he expect sweats to look so good with a tutu.

“isn't that right binnie?” he commented, extending his hand for yubin to take. “now, let's get back to those grand jeté's we were working on earlier eh?”

yubin squealed, immediately accepting his requests with the grasp of her tiny fingers and a wide smile plastered on her face.

“yes please!”

as they continued their ballet practice, the living room had turned into a makeshift stage for the two, with yubin and jay performing a whimsical ballet routine, the sweet melodies of the nutcracker adding the perfect touch to their chaotic performance.

“okay, let’s see your best grand jeté!” yubin called out, her tiny arms reaching out dramatically.

jay attempted a grand jeté, but ended up looking more like an enthusiastic baby goose learning to fly, his arms flailing in the air.

yubin giggled uncontrollably, trying to mimic her dad's moves with even more dramatizing flair.

they pranced around the living room for what seemed like hours, their tutus fluttering in sync with every twirl and leap. for jay’s sake, they would take periodic breaks throughout the practice.

during these breaks, yubin would watch in amusement as her dad rested his hands on his waist, desperately trying to regain his composure. let’s just say, it was like watching a wind-up toy wind down.

after what felt like ages, you were finally heading home. sure, the sweet jingle of christmas music and the warm smell of cinnamon from each errand stop were enduring, but what you were really looking forward to was being wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket with the two people you love most.

as you pulled into the driveway, the house looked picture perfect against the snowy backdrop. you carried your bags inside, balancing them as you nudged the door open with your hip.

“i'm back!” you called out, kicking off your snowy boots and setting the bags down in the kitchen. “i got all the goodies!”

no response. now you were curious.

you walked further into the house slowly, following the sound of familiar classical music you knew all too well. peeking around the corner, you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

there, in the middle of the living room was your husband, in a bright pink tutu that barely fit his athletic build. matching his outfit was your daughter, her own tutu flaring out as she twirled around, her giggles a melody of their own. they were completely in the zone, unaware of your presence.

If you were being frank, the scene was too precious to interrupt. jay was trying to execute an arabesque, but his balance was off, making yubin laugh even more.

“come on, daddy! like this!” she demonstrated with the grace only a child could have, and jay tried again, a bit more successfully this time.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, and jay’s head practically spun at the sound, his face turning even redder from embarrassment.

“oh- hey honey! um, well, yubin wanted to practice ballet–” he explained, his voice trailing off at the end.

“don't stop on my account,” you teased, revealing yourself from behind the wall as you took in the scene before you in all it’s glory.

yubin ran over to you, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

“mommy, look! daddy's my ballet partner!”

you couldn't help but chuckle, kneeling down to hug your daughter. “i can see that," you commented through giggles, your gaze flickering towards your husband for a moment. “and I must say.. he's doing a pretty fantastic job.”

“why thank you.” jay answered. he tried to pull off a graceful bow, but from the energy he had just exerted to his recent performance with his daughter, he stumbled a bit.

you couldn't stop laughing, tears forming in your eyes. “oh, jay, you're a sight.”

jay grinned, walking over to join you and there daughter. “anything for our little princess. plus, i think i’ve found a new appreciation for tutus.”

later that evening, after yubin was tucked into bed, you and jay found yourselves cuddled on the couch, the soft glow of the christmas tree lights casting a warm glow to the room.

“you really made her day today, y'know,” you murmured, resting your head on jay's chest.

“well, that's what dads are for, right?” he replied, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

“i think you might have missed your calling as a ballet dancer,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow.

jay laughed, pulling you closer. “i'll stick to my day job, thanks. but for yubin, i'd wear a tutu any day.”

you smiled, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. “and that's exactly why you’re so amazing.”

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[loves4yukio]

Unspoken Desires

Negan x F!Reader

Summary : You consistently rejected Negan's romantic advances because you didn't wish to become another one of his conquests. You avoid him as much as you could, but things became more intricate when he revealed his sole interest in you and no one else.

Warnings (18+) : SMUT, age gap (you are in your 20's and Negan is in his mid-late 40's), swearing, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Negan, secret relationship, no use of y/n, mentions of sex (?) — I'm not sure what to put, so if you have any advice, I'll take it.

Word count : 5k6

You endured what felt like the most draining day of your existence. Your time outdoors alongside Simon, engaging in a lengthy run, exceeded the usual duration, leads you to return later than anticipated to the Sanctuary — where you seek solace in the privacy of your bedroom. Shedding your work attire, you exchanged it for the comfort of shorts and a cozy sweater, an outfit suited for rest. Seated at your desk, you embarked upon the task of drafting the expedition report, as mandated by Negan.

You toil in silence, engrossed in the task, driven by your yearning to assimilate into the community and meet Negan's expectations. When you're at last content with the outcome, you glance up from your desk, eyeing the time displayed on the clock. 'It's getting late, I need a break,' you muse. The alluring temptation of watching a movie, an idea often suggested by Negan, tempted you irresistibly.

As a recent addition to the Saviors, you had caught Negan's profound interest, the reasons for which remained a mystery to you. On numerous occasions, you found his intense gaze fixed upon you, his signature smile accompanying his playful, suggestive banter. The effect it had on you was undeniable, stirring an internal storm you couldn't easily dismiss.

Occasionally, you yielded to his allure, but it always left you in self-reproach, retreating into seclusion and creating distance. Negan always persisted, unwilling to swiftly relinquish his grasp on you. He was resolute, refusing to let you go to another.

Negan was known for his ladies' man side. He already had six wives by his side. Negan being Negan, he had proposed you become one of them, but you persistently declined, knowing it wouldn’t bring you joy. Yet, here you found yourself, part of his inner circle and laboring under his directives. This didn't deter him from the amusement of seducing you, sending your senses spinning — a pleasure he relished, especially the moments when you'd bite your lip each time he whispered something dirty in your ear.

Satisfied with the task's completion, you left your chambers, strolling silently through the corridor of the floor designated for Negan and his wives. You had the liberty to wander there at will, given your residence on that floor — Negan had made it clear that the floor was as much your abode as his and his wives'.

As you lingered in the room's alcove, the soft hum of the television reached your ears. Despite the dimness, the silhouettes on the couch were distinguishable. For a fleeting moment, you observed Negan and a few of his wives holding each other tenderly, their forms intertwined in a embrace.

This simple yet profound sight stirred a tumult of emotions within you. While relieved not to be entangled in Negan's romantic affairs, you couldn't stifle the growing pangs of jealousy. Negan embodied the epitome of your ideal man : handsome, funny, sociable and seemingly damn good at sex. Some nights, the sounds of their cries of pleasures echoed through the corridors upstairs, teasing a tale of their intimate rendezvous.

With the utmost care, you glided across the floor, your steps hushed to avoid disrupting their tranquility. Neither of them caught a glimpse of your passing silhouette ; such was your stealth. Arriving in the kitchen, you prepared a light snack, allowing the gentle whir of the refrigerator to fill the space.

Within the serene hush of the living room, where the dimmed lights cast the room in a veil of darkness, an aged cowboy movie flickered on the screen. Negan slumped on the generous couch, a soft sigh escaping him as Frankie sought solace against his shoulder. A fleeting moment of quiet ensued until one of them decided to shatter the silence.

“Has she returned from work ?” Sherry inquired on your behalf, arching an eyebrow, her attention diverted from the movie flickering on the television.

Shifting his gaze toward her, Negan emitted a noncommittal sound, almost an 'I dunno,' just before ensnaring her in a kiss filled with such fervor that it deterred her from pursuing the topic. Using it as a diversion, he let his hand slide down her back, the touch lingering on the black fabric of her dress, seeking more intimate contact.

“I'll be back, I'll fetch us some snacks. I'm feeling a bit peckish,” Amber murmured, beginning to withdraw from the group. However, Negan's hand swiftly seized her thigh, wordlessly commanding her to remain where she was.

“You're not fucking going anywhere, darling. I've got this covered, ladies,” Negan declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final surreptitious kiss, seizing Frankie's jaw for a change, he rose to make his way towards the kitchen, where he finds you. Unnoticed by you, he seized the chance to gaze at you, slyly running his tongue over his lips.

Deep in thought, you positioned the containers on the kitchen counter. When you eventually faced him, you briefly glanced away, continuing your preparations ; as if focusing on the task could banish the persistent memories clouding your mind. Negan picked up on your deliberate actions, earning one of his trademark, smug smiles.

“How long have you been here, sweetheart ?” His question sliced through the air, his tone betraying no notice of the tension that crept into your body upon hearing his voice.

“Not too long. I just came down,” you responded, daring to meet his gaze once more.

Observing him move around the central cabinet, selecting a variety of nuts to fill a small dish, he paused in his desire to approach the refrigerator, positioning himself behind you. He pressed your form gently against the counter, allowing his weight to meld with yours. His warm breath danced across the curve of your neck as his lips drew close to your ear.

“Aren't you joining us ?” he inquired, planting tender kisses against your soft skin, echoing a familiarity from moments when you were alone.

Your gaze remained evasive, yet inwardly, you pondered the wisdom of joining them in the living room. The situation was already taut with tension, and you hesitated to further complicate matters. On one hand, the desire to spend time with them lingered, but on the other, an apprehension loomed — an uncertainty of what might unfold, beyond your control.

“I'm not sure that's wise, Negan,” you murmured softly, breathlessly.

“Smart enough to handle it, darlin',” Negan replied with a sly smirk, dismissing your concern.

He remained silent, his hazel eyes fixed upon you in quiet contemplation. Your body tingled under his fleeting touch, heightening the feverish sensation as he grazed against you. Carefully tearing open a bag of chips, you delicately poured a portion into a bowl, then turned to present it to him.

“Here. I wouldn't want you to miss the movie because of me,” you said, offering an innocent smile.

The warmth and tenderness of your presence felt soothing, as though it seamlessly melded with his, an indelible union. With each step, he sought to intoxicate himself within this fleeting moment, wishing it could linger a little longer. Ceasing the intimate connection by turning towards him brought a sense of discomfort to Negan, especially when he was reveling in the closeness.

His hands mirrored your actions as you turned to face him, his countenance etched with seriousness, his unwavering gaze fixed upon you. Lifting the bowl of chips you'd prepared, he wordlessly returned it to the counter, observing you as if something unusual was unfolding. His scrutiny delved deep, as though attempting to decipher the depths of your soul.

“Then go to your room,” his words sliced the air, unexpectedly severe, nearly cutting.

His stare posed a challenge, urging you to venture beyond the ordinary. It was no longer just about the movie, and you were acutely aware of this shift. He was testing you.

Your brow arched in response to his intense scrutiny, granting him permission to draw nearer. You felt defenseless, adrift, and utterly powerless. His husky voice only added to your sense of unease. It was absurd how effortlessly you seemed to be losing your self-possession, akin to a fragile leaf that could be easily crumpled in his grasp. The very notion made your heart race within your chest.

Enveloped by the weight of his penetrating gaze, you hesitated to even reach out to touch him. You found yourself silently studying him, attempting to decipher the cryptic undertone of his words. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you cast a swift, cautious glance around, ensuring no prying eyes were upon you, before returning your focus to him.

He stood before you, a commanding presence, his unwavering, intense gaze fixed upon you. Was it even your place to be standing alongside them ? You blinked, releasing a breath as you succumbed to the overwhelming closeness. It might have appeared peculiar, perhaps even self-centered, but you would have preferred if his wives were absent. It could have been the attraction you felt toward Negan… or for some undisclosed reason.

“Must I, really ?” you blurted in a voice barely louder than a whisper, surrendering to the game. “Seems to me like you're eager for my company. Don't you ?”

“Oh, you think so, huh ? You don't have a damn clue about the game you're playing, sweetheart.”

His lips, once momentarily dry, became moistened by a subtle lick, accentuating his wolfish grin. Your hips were gently pressed against the counter's edge, his eyes traversing your form, observing your casual attire. Despite the room's darkness, his gaze fixated upon you, brimming with unwavering attention.

Within moments, you leaned against the nearby furniture, settling there while maintaining an unbroken gaze with him. Negan briefly scanned the kitchen's entrance before redirecting his focus back to you. Ensnared under his intense scrutiny, you found yourself entranced, incapable of averting your eyes from the fervor of his. Each step he took toward you sent shivers down your spine, accelerating the rhythm of your heart. Your breaths grew shallower, the atmosphere thick with an electric charge.

“Don't start something that you can't finish,” he moved a step nearer.

“Who said I couldn't see it through ?” you retorted mischievously.

Negan moved with a predator's intent, every step bringing him closer to you until he stood mere inches away. In that suspended moment, it felt as though time had halted, the world vanishing to leave only the confined space that separated the two of you. The passing seconds dragged by, laden with anticipation, until he loomed over you, finally capturing your face in a firm yet gentle hold, drawing it close to his. His intense gaze traced every curve of your eyes and lips, as if they beckoned to him.

As his fingers secured your face, a soft moan escaped your lips, lost amidst the hollow of his kiss. The ensuing embrace was fervent, ablaze with passion, and you responded with the entirety of the longing you held for him. However, Negan aimed to tantalize you, so he permitted the kiss to endure for just a few moments, kindling a flame within you and intensifying your longing for more. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you felt an intense longing — an unquenched fire that left you parched.

“Now there's a spot on the couch waiting for your pretty ass,” he remarked, letting you go. With a bottle of liquor and the two snack bowls in hand, he strode away, leaving you behind.

Returning to the living room, the movie played on, and he seamlessly carried on watching it, feigning normalcy by exchanging a kiss with one of his wives. It was disquieting to witness the charade of his role as the perfect husband with them, all the while engaging in infidelity with you.

“Screw me…” you muttered under your breath before exiting the room, carrying your tray toward the living area.

Sherry arched a curious eyebrow upon witnessing you arrange the appetizers on the coffee table, casually taking a few pistachios as she passed by. Unaware of your true intent, she observed you taking a seat on the sofa — pretending to concentrate fully on the movie playing on the television. It was then that she realized you intended to join them in watching the film.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, Negan slipped off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, observing your approach without quite meeting your gaze. Amber perched at the edge of the sofa, indulging in the snacks from the bowls.

Leaning behind Amber — careful not to touch her, Negan reached out with his leather-clad hand toward you. His fingers delicately slipped under your sweater, making direct contact with your skin, absentmindedly caressing it without averting his eyes from the television. You attempted to divert your attention to the screen, as though nothing had transpired. Nevertheless, your body responded intensely to his tender caresses, the sensation mingling with the remnants of his previous kiss, drawing you closer, yearning for more contact.

With every delicate rise of his fingers, it was as if you were engulfed in an irresistible yet tormenting inferno. Despite the turmoil within, an appearance of composure had to be maintained, a guise of indifference. His actions appeared effortless, his focus fixed on the screen, while his touch crept higher and higher, only to smoothly readjust as Amber settled in between you on the couch. He cleared his throat, flashing his characteristic shit-eating grin.

The movie merely served as a facade, concealing the true currents swirling in the room. The tension became almost suffocating, an unspoken magnetism pulling at your souls, yet no one acknowledged the brewing tempest, recklessly dancing with fire. The intensity between you both had swelled to an almost tangible thickness, enough to be sliced through with the sharpest blade. You cast a feverish glance toward Frankie, prompting her to sit upright, sensing the charged atmosphere.

“I think I'm ready for bed,” Frankie whispered a little suddenly.

“Same, I'm getting really sleepy,” Amber added.

“Mhm, I'm heading off too. Try not to stay up too late, guys,” Sherry said as she followed the other two women.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Negan's parting was sealed with a tender kiss to each of the women, yet his unwavering gaze remained locked with yours. He was aware of your watchful gaze and took the opportunity to playfully tease you.

They dispersed into the solace of their individual chambers, melting into the shadows. While maintaining a facade of attention towards the television, he covertly tracked their movements until he was certain of your seclusion. Then, he turned toward you, a silent entreaty woven into the language of his gaze, beckoning you closer as if the very essence of his being yearned for your nearness.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gesturing with his raised arm to offer you space beside him.

You edged closer to his inviting warmth, shifting on the couch to draw nearer. The instant you nestled against him, his embrace enveloped you. His fingertips ventured down your back, making tender contact with your skin, a delicate dance of caresses. Nestled comfortably against him, your head found a cozy perch upon his shoulder, basking in the tenderness of his touch. His actions lulled you, evoking a melting sensation within.

“What's runnin' through that head of yours, darlin' ?” he murmurs in your direction.

The gentle strokes ceased. His hand settled on the curve of your lower back, doing nothing more but imprinting an imperceptible memory of his tender touch upon your skin. Negan's actions seemed deliberate, as if he sought to ignite a response within you, desiring to witness your own initiative, rather than taking the lead himself. In his ideal scenario, your body would have already be over his, seeking warmth. He harbored vivid images of it, yearning for what he'd envisioned on countless evenings.

“I don't know,” you exhaled, your words barely audible, your gaze unwaveringly locked with his. “About everything, and nothing at all.”

“I'll be damned, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice a velvety rasp, “Uncertainty can be a wicked thing, can't it ? Everything and yet nothin', all wrapped up in one pretty package.”

The TV volume remained low, affording him the chance to catch any stray sounds. He was vigilant, ever mindful of his wives who, despite retiring to their rooms, could unexpectedly intrude at any instant. Negan wasn't particularly concerned about being caught in a passionate liaison with a woman ; if it were solely up to him, he'd fuck you right there on the balcony in front of everyone, demonstrating to all that you belonged to him. But it was more for your sake that he wished to avoid it — he knew you probably wouldn't want to be seen sharing sex with him.

A hush settled in the room as you rose, resting your hand on his chest. Your heart stubbornly refused to slow down while the background movie appeared to have lost its significance. Your gaze fixated on Negan's figure, captivated by the intensity of his dark, engulfing eyes.

“You need to stop giving me that look, Negan,” you stated.

“I can't help it if you bring out that look in me, sweetheart,” he replied, his lips curved in a smirk.

Slowly, your eyes traced his features, observing every detail from his lashes to the salt and pepper shade of his beard. Perching up on your knees, you take a careful glance around the room to make sure there was no one there. Assured of the privacy, you descended slowly, draping a leg over his, finally settling atop him, your breaths growing unsteady.

“You look like you're about to devour me on the spot,” you exhaled, sensing his body tensing beneath you.

“Well, babydoll, can't blame you for feeling a little nervous with ol' Negan here.”

His gaze narrowed, intensifying as curiosity and amusement danced within his eyes. Eager to discover the path of your actions, he deliberately halted even the subtlest of gestures toward you. And his anticipation was met. You placed your hands on each side of his shoulders, the contact of your pelvis against his eliciting a gasp of your mouth.

“Negan, I— Oh, for fuck's sake…” you blurt out, leaning in, nearly pressing against him.

“Seems cat's got someone's tongue, huh,” Negan chuckles, softly grazing your chin with his gloved hand.

Flushed with heat, you gently traced your fingers along his pristine white t-shirt, tucking the edges to sense his warmth against your fingers. Surprisingly, your boldness seemed to gratify him. Without delay, his hands found their way to your thighs, embracing your skin before gliding down to your hips, drawing you nearer. He bent his legs, pulling you close as possible, as if ensnaring you within his desires.

“Mhmm, that's it, keep it up, sweetheart. Just. Like. That.” his raspy voice growled.

The tension between you amplified with the gentle touch of his fingers caressing your skin, accompanied by his satisfied, teasing smile. Swiftly, he seizes your face, drawing you in for a direct and passionate kiss. Your lips eagerly met his, an urgent yearning manifesting as if they had craved this union for an eternity.

Enthralled by the passion conveyed in that kiss, he reasserted his hold on your hips, drawing the weight of your pelvis closer to his in an almost covetous manner. Every inch of your body responded to the fervor. Suppressing his profound yearnings for so long, he yielded, allowing his hands to trail along your curves. A sigh slipped from your lips at the sensation. His touch ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, grasping your ass firmly. His action was almost too abrupt, considering how controlled it had been until now.

You were no longer the master of your actions, a mere observer of your own surrender. Unable to resist any longer, you yielded to the urge, shedding your suffocating sweater in a desperate attempt to ease the fire consuming your body. It seemed unbelievable that such a scene was unfolding, you that fighting valiantly against the tide of temptation, determined not to succumb.

Your breath mirrored his, swift and erratic, as your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt. Your fingers, curious and explorative, roamed across his skin, entwining in the few hairs as if seeking to uncover every secret of this uncharted territory.

Your lips sought out his cheek, trailing a series of kisses along the contour of his jaw. A soft sigh escaped you at the tantalizing touch of his beard against your lips, and you closed your eyes, imagining the sensation of it grazing between your thighs. The journey of kisses halted upon reaching the hollow of his neck. Gazing up at him, your eyes deepened with a smoldering intensity, betraying the fervent desire coursing through you.

“Doll, staring at me like that makes me as hard as a rock,” Negan teases, a sly grin dancing on his face.

“Oh, hush.”

Your tongue lazely passed over your lips as your sweater cascaded to the wayside. An almost involuntary movement drew your pelvis toward a search for friction, yearning to stoke the burgeoning flame deep within. Negan's hand clasped your jaw, a means of asserting dominance. He seized your lips in an intense kiss as you sought another after removing your sweater — an interlude far too fleeting for his taste to let it end there.

Having severed the kiss, having imbued it with the bittersweet flavor of his longing, he gently drew you back, his hand anchored to your face. In the subdued room, his gaze nearly disclosed a hint of regret for not being able to explore the contour of your chest more intimately. He indulged in the delight of relishing a closer sensation by letting his fingers glide from your neck to the delicate curve of one of your breasts, tenderly caressing it.

"Damn, babydoll, look at you. So damn sexy," Negan rumbled in a husky tone, his words carrying a mix of admiration and appreciation for what he was seeing — what he was feeling.

In the pursuit of evoking a reaction from your body, he persisted in his caress, his index finger accompanied by his middle finger captivating the tip of your mound to make it harden further. Allowing his lips to envelop your flesh button, he began to gently suckle, his hand cupping and kneading your second breast while his other hand glided down your back, drawing you nearer to him, as if such closeness were even possible. Simultaneously, he urged you to continue the friction that your pelvis created against his, while beneath the thick fabric of his gray trousers, his growing member was already palpable.

You sensed your heart pounding against your chest, sending tremors through your entire being. The passion ignited such a fervor, inducing a wetness between your thighs that heightened with each subtle motion against his bulge. As he worked on the first reddened mound, he shifted his attention to the second, prolonging the intimacy without breaking away. His hand, departing from the comforting warmth of your skin, ventured further, becoming more invasive as it found its place between your thighs.

You let out a soft sigh as his hands grazed your fevered skin. In touch with the cloth of your shorts, he effortlessly detected your moisture with a gentle, deliberate press. His smile brushed against your skin, teasing your hardening bud as he intensified the caress of his fingers against your welcoming depths, eliciting you a moan that sent shivers down his spine.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs huskily, his words brushing against your skin.

Each shift of your body against his made you acutely aware of his hardness pressing against your lower abdomen, igniting vivid, consuming thoughts. His words and the sensations from his hands evoked a swarm of butterflies in your chest.

Passionate, moist kisses lingered on your lips, easing your sighs into delicate moans. Struggling to keep your responses in check, aiming not to draw the attention of his wives — who, you prayed, were sound asleep in their chambers, only served to heighten your fevered state. As the kisses deepened, you glanced down to witness the unfolding intimacy between you. The sensation was wet and intoxicating, a feeling you adored, yet it failed to satiate your longing ; you craved more, like an ache that consumed you.

Once more, your hands ventured under his t-shirt, gradually raising it to uncover his tonic abdomen amidst the subdued light of the television. As your hands glided around him, ascending his back to help disrobe him, your hips resumed their movement, driven by the burgeoning passion stirring within you.

You let out a hiss as your thighs quivered around him, feeling the discomfort of your shorts. Using your fingertips, you eventually made it to the edge of his pants, playfully tugging them down intermittently while seeking his approval through eye contact.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Negan exhaled deeply, smirking against your jaw.

He snarled and moved aside your damp underwear. Your desires were explicit, needing no further communication for him to comprehend your needs. He grazed his finger along your sensitive areas, savoring the sounds escaping your lips. Sensing your hands clutching his shoulders, he starts tracing circular motions around your nerve bundle, causing you to writhe on top of him.

“W-Wait,” you managed to say, widening your eyes, a surge of pleasure building as he persisted.

“Shh, let me take care of you. Cum for me,” he responded, prompting your release against his hand. “You're doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised you.

He lapped at your juices greedily on his fingers, revealing in the taste of your arousal. Encircling his arm around your delicate form, he effortlessly maneuvered to switch your positions, laying you on your side. You yielded without protest, sinking into the cushioned comfort of the sofa.

Leaning against the cushions with one arm, he stood tall above you and leaned in for a passionate kiss, his other hand swiftly pulling away the last garment covering your body, exposing you to the open air. Without needing assistance, he tore away your panties and eager to remove his own pants and boxers, freeing himself.

As you shared a kiss, he momentarily paused to collect saliva on his hand, which he used to moisten himself, locking eyes with you intensely. There was no turning back for both of you.

“Negan,” you gasp, a fervent ache consuming you.

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg me,” he demands.

“Negan, please… I want you so bad,” you murmur in a quivering, warm tone near his ear, your eyes growing heavier as your bodies press together.

Grasping his girth, he glides it along your folds, teasing before exerting pressure to breach your intimacy. A guttural sound escapes his throat as he leans back, relishing the feeling of penetrating you. Despite the discomfort, you tremble, releasing a stifled moan as he tantalizes your wetness with his thumb. Retracting, he positions himself on his knees, guiding his member with a few deliberate movements.

Clasping your thighs firmly, he drew you nearer by lifting your knees towards his chest, seeking better access to your intimacy. His thumb moistened your entrance with your own secretions before he tease you with the head of his cock. He shifted above you, covering your lips with his own to stifle your sounds as he smoothly entered you, his pelvis slamming against yours.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with your racing heartbeat as your fingers gently wandered through the tangle of his dark locks at the back of his head. The tension surrounding you was so consuming that you lost awareness of your surroundings and any potential consequences of your actions.

When you sensed his entrance, your body instinctively arched and stiffened. Your face tensed as you tried to adjust to this new sensation. Gradually, you acclimated to his presence, and in a suggestive move, you raised your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, signaling your desire for him to continue.

Gripping the sofa, he lifted your face abruptly, stifling a deep groan that resonated in his throat. The way your body arched upon his possession, the tightening of your flesh around him, heightened the rush of blood in his veins. Slowly, he eased into a series of gentle pelvic movements.

It was a captivating sight, leaving you breathless as you finally sensed his motion inside you. A thin film of sweat adorned your skin, and the heat brought a flush to your face, framed by damp strands of hair. Negan couldn't help but marvel at how perfect you looked in that moment — like a goddess who had descended from the heavens just for him.

His movements were restrained, as he aimed to find more space, all the while displaying a sense of self-control. This tenderness was not typical of his character. However, when Negan lifted his gaze to study your expressions and the fervor they revealed, he permitted himself to quicken his pace. Beginning softly and then progressively intensifying, causing your body to shift beneath him. His hand turned to silence your mouth, and his grunts intensified in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he moaned between a few strokes.

The manner in which his pelvis met yours left no room for evasion. This subtle motion that swept you along drove you to the edge, even though it was merely the start. You ultimately found the delight, the one veiled within your unspoken desires, beneath your garments, in the recesses of your intimacy. Each of your cries was subdued, to avoid raising any doubts and the movie, its credits scrolling on the screen, was no longer a cover for you.

“Tell me. Tell me you fucking belong to me, dollface,” he murmured, planting kisses along your collarbone before biting your earlobe, leaning in as he demanded, “Say it.”

“Fuck—,” you muttered, turning your face to meet his gaze.

You found yourself laughing nervously at every motion, electrified by the exquisite sensations that regularly coursed through you. Your legs clung to him while your hands had sought solace on his back. Your body quivered and molded around his larger frame.

“Say it,” he insisted, picking up his speed, surpassing the intensity he'd shown before.

“Yours. Only yours !” you gasped as you sensed him accelerating, feeling your muscles tightening around him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. All mine,” he snarled, his voice dripping like honey.

A hush enveloped the surroundings, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting and the partially muted expressions of pleasure that conveyed the intense experience shared between you — and the need to stifle the impending cries pulsating within you nearly propelled you over the edge. Consumed by the moment, you disregarded any concerns about potential listeners, focusing solely on the overwhelming sensation that enveloped you.

A knot formed within you as a distant door creaked open, signifying the departure of one of Negan's wives from her room. The mere idea prompted you to stiffen. But Negan firmly held your hips, intensifying his pace, propelling you closer to the brink of climax.

“Hold on, there's somebody,” you gasp, confused by Negan's apparent indifference.

“It ain't an issue if there's company,” he declares, forcefully driving his hips against you.

“Negan I'm—,” you cursed, your hips rising to enhance the skin-to-skin connection. Your head arched backward, immersing you in a profound trance.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his voice husky with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

Intense pleasure courses through your veins, compelling you to grasp his hair and arch your hips to meet his movements. His hold on your hips tightens like that of a ravenous creature, and you knew you would be bruised the next day, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

Negan glided a hand down, teasing and stimulating your most sensitive spot with his thumb, propelling you closer to your next climax. The noises coming out of your throat as you came were the sexiest sounds he had ever heard and damn, it driving him wild. It's with one last powerful push, he poured himself into you, your bodies entwined in a dance of passion and desire.

“Fuck fuck fuuuck,” he spat, shutting his eyes.

He fell onto you, utterly drained. You both remained intertwined, allowing your still-warm bodies to linger in a comfortable silence. As you slowly regained awareness, the sound of the door closing snapped you out of your daze, and you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. Sensing your movement beneath him, Negan slowly rose, propping himself up with one arm.

“Did you just— ?” you halted, sensing a chilling atmosphere enveloping your core when Negan withdrew from you, appearing as bewildered as you felt.

“I didn't mean to. You made it hard for me with all this damn mess,” he breath. He seemed to hold himself responsible, hoping this error hadn't disrupted the beginning of your relationship. Truth be told, sleeping with you was a significant move in his plan to have you entirely for himself.

You fall into a moment of silence, still slightly affected by the intensity of your lovemaking. As you both prepare to dress, Negan, clad only in his boxers, catches your attempt to glance around the room. Interrupting, he requests you an another, gentler kiss. You find yourself smiling in the midst of this tender moment, momentarily forgetting your worries. Eventually, you begin to reassess your choice about joining his group of wives…

Maybe you should think about it again.

A/N : Thanks for reading ! And sorry for any grammatical or other mistakes, English is not my first language. If you have any fanfic requests regarding Jeffrey's characters, please feel free to ask — I'd be happy to write them for you <3

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide to: holiday dinner parties ˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

if there’s one thing i love it’s hosting! especially dinner parties with a theme meaning holiday dinner parties are my fave. this year ive already scheduled one christmas dinner party and am hoping to plan another. here are some tips focused on hosting advice, food and dr

ink, entertainment and outfits! enjoy angels and happy holidays!!

hosting advice `` ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

organise early. there’s nothing worse than wanting to host but leaving it last minute so people can't come. plan your guest list and see what dates would work best for people!

think carefully about your guest list. it’s always a good idea to either invite people who all know each other or a mix of people some who know each other and some who don’t - the last thing you want is two or three guests sitting alone!

invite for the vibe you want. the dinner im hosting is small and intimate, i don’t want it to feel frantic or overly busy so ive kept my guest list reflecting that!

make a pinterest board.

find cute diys to make. things like table decorations, guests charts etc!

set the mood! light some candles, put on some music and make sure the space is clean and organised.

create a playlist - specially for the event!

make invites to send out. this is so cute and fun! digital invites are so easy to do and so adorable as are physical ones.

plan a time you want guests to arrive by at the earliest and at the latest. e.g earliest is six so latest is seven! that way you know when would be good to serve food or start activities.

food and drink `` ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

plan your menu in advance - make sure you know all your guests dietary requirements!

keep it simple with snacks. shop brought cheeses, crackers, spreads and any other kinds of elegant snacks are always delicious and so easy to make look cute on a platter. plus they save you time!

create a cocktail or mocktail for the evening!

make your dessert ahead when possible. mousses, tiramisu, cakes and anything like that are always so perfect and crowd pleasers and can be easily made ahead.

make cute menu sheets. these are so fun and pretty to look at!!

it’s better to keep your menu simple and delicious than overly complex and risk messing it up.

plan your food around a theme! for example all japanese cuisine or love themed food for valentines day.

entertainment `` ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

pick some board/card games to play all together.

plan activities based around the weather. if its really cold or rainy a cute movie night might be better! whereas if its warm or sunny an outdoor dance space or sports game may be more enjoyable.

plan for a range of activities - people arent always going to be up for everything!

suggest guests bring activities. people love feeling involved and this way you can ensure an activity will be popular and fun for everyone.

look on pinterest/tiktok/instagram for suggestions. for example, hosting a powerpoint night is so so enjoyable and funny.

set the night around a themed activity - such as a murder mystery dinner party or a costume dinner party!

bring a digital camera - such a cute way of capturing the night and you can make a scrapbook or photobook afterwards.

find a craft! at the dinner party im hosting around christmas we will be decorating gingerbread houses but there are so many other ideas such as painting, candle making, journaling or decorating items.

outfits/styling tips `` ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

find a cute makeup look on pinterest to fit your theme! i love a glittery fairy inspired look for christmas parties.

make sure you have an apron or that your outfit wont show any potential mess - remember you may be in and out of the kitchen!

wear something that makes you feel pretty and confident.

find an elegant way of styling your hair - a simple updo or pretty braid can make you look ready for a more dressy occasion.

commit fully to your theme/evening vibes. as the host its so important to make sure all of your guests feel like they can dress up or try something different and feel comfortable!

accessories like bows, hairclips, rings, bracelets, necklaces, hair scarfs or pretty hairties and cute shoes can really make an outfit stand out.

either have a layer on you or a layer you can easily take on and off in case the temperature changes.

make sure you plan time for a shower or bath and are able to do your fully selfcare routine! it will help you feel at peace and less stressed for the dinner ahead.

thank you for reading angels - let me know if any of you are hosting a dinner party or any tips you have!! i love this time of year and its such a great opportunity to see friends and families. remember a dinner party can be as big or small as you like, in fact you could have a dinner party just for yourself in order to treat you! whatever you get up to im sure youll be the most wonderful of hosts.

love, m.

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter five : happy birthday

soccer player vi x talis reader

summary: you celebrate your birthday with friends and family.

mentions : toxic sevika & vi, caitlyn, ellabs mentioned, meljay, timebomb, dina and viktor mentioned, angst, romance

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

It had been weeks since you last spoke to Vi, and you did everything in your power to keep it that way. You blocked her number, ignored any mention of her name, and forced yourself to focus on something—someone—else. That someone happened to be Sevika.

She was easy to be around. Laidback, confident, and never pushed you to talk about things you didn’t want to. She was also incredibly touchy, her hands always finding a way to rest on your lower back or graze your thigh when you sat next to her. But despite the obvious tension between you two, the most you had done with her was kiss.

Which was why you were caught off guard when she asked you to be her girlfriend.

You didn’t give her an answer right away. You weren’t sure if you could. The idea of jumping into something new still felt…complicated. But today wasn’t about that. Today was your birthday, your 21st, and you weren’t going to let anything or anyone ruin it.

So instead of stressing over relationships, you focused all your energy on making sure the night was perfect.

Which, of course, meant bossing the hell out of Jayce and his soccer team friends.

“Yo, this is actually insane,” Ekko muttered as he lugged a heavy speaker inside the venue, his face twisted in exaggerated pain.

“You’re dramatic,” you said, sipping your mimosa as you and Jinx lounged on one of the balcony couches, watching the chaos unfold.

Ellie and Abby were carrying cases of alcohol to the bar while Scar struggled to hold an entire stack of plates without dropping them. Meanwhile, Jayce was barking orders at everyone, looking more stressed than anyone else.

“You could help, you know,” Jayce grumbled, glaring at you as he adjusted the collar of his button-up.

You raised a brow and took another sip. “I am helping. I’m supervising.”

Jinx cackled beside you, lifting her glass. “Yeah, and they’re doing great. Keep it up, you guys!”

The place was exactly how you wanted it—classy and comfortable. The bar itself was high-end, with sleek countertops and dim lighting that made the whole place feel exclusive. The balcony overlooked the city skyline, with warm lights stringing across the railing, giving it a soft, intimate glow. Inside, there was a large open space for dancing, tables for people to sit and chat, and an outdoor area for those who just wanted to drink and vibe.

It was perfect.

You leaned back, stretching your legs as you gazed out at the view. “This is gonna be the best night ever.”

And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed it.

The party was in full swing, the music loud, the drinks flowing, and the air buzzing with excitement. You looked good—no, flawless—in your outfit, the black velvet dress hugging your figure just right, the gold trim catching the light as you moved. You could feel eyes on you all night, and you weren’t complaining.

Your family was there, along with Jayce’s friends, all mingling and celebrating. Even Vi had the nerve to show up, bringing Caitlyn along like some kind of statement. You saw her from across the room, her arms crossed as she lingered by the bar, watching you. But you ignored her. Tonight wasn’t about her.

Then, just as the night was settling into a comfortable rhythm, Sevika arrived.

Late, of course, but she made an entrance. She walked in like she owned the place, a massive bouquet of roses in her hands, wrapped in sleek paper with Happy Birthday scrawled across it.

People turned to look as she approached you, handing you the bouquet with a smirk. “Figured you deserved something pretty on your big night.”

You accepted them with a smile, fingers brushing against hers as you took them. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to make sure it was worth the wait.”

Your mother, ever the skeptic, had been watching from the sidelines, and as soon as Sevika stepped away to grab a drink, she was on you.

“Who is that?” she asked, her tone already laced with disapproval.

You sighed, already exhausted. “Her name’s Sevika. We’re just talking right now, nothing serious.”

“She doesn’t look like ‘nothing serious,’” your mother shot back, her eyes narrowing as she glanced toward Sevika, who was now casually leaning against the bar, talking to Ekko.

You met her gaze head-on. “She’s actually a really good person if you get to know her.”

Your mother scoffed, unconvinced. “That is the kind of person you’re spending time with?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let her ruin your night. “Can we not do this right now? Just let me enjoy my party.”

She pursed her lips, clearly holding back more she wanted to say, but after a long pause, she sighed. “Fine. But we will talk about this later.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away, letting her words drift into the background. Right now, all you cared about was your night, your fun, and the way Sevika’s gaze found yours again from across the room.

Just as you were about to grab another drink, Jayce clapped a hand on your shoulder, grinning. "Got a little surprise for you, birthday girl."

You turned, raising an eyebrow. "What now?"

Jayce stepped aside, and your breath caught when you saw two familiar faces—Dina and Viktor.

Dina was the first to react, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. "Oh my god, I missed you!" she said, squeezing you before pulling back to look you over. "Damn, you look good. Italy might’ve been your peak, but you’re still killing it."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Shut up. I can’t believe you’re here!"

Viktor, ever the more reserved one, offered a small smile. "It is good to see you again," he said, his accent familiar and warm. "Jayce may be an insufferable pain, but I suppose I owe him for this one."

Jayce scoffed, crossing his arms. "You're welcome."

Dina slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning. "So, what’s the plan? Drinks? Dancing? Embarrassing speeches about our time in Italy?"

You groaned, already knowing she had plenty of stories to share. "Let’s start with drinks before you start ruining my reputation."

As you led them toward the bar, you caught Sevika watching from a few feet away, her expression unreadable. When she saw you looking, she lifted her chin slightly, as if sizing up your friends. You gave her a small smirk before turning back to Dina and Viktor, feeling an unexpected warmth settle in your chest.

Viktor smirked as he stepped forward, his usual sharp wit laced with amusement. “I must say, I expected a grand welcome. Perhaps a parade?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, Dina nudged you. “Okay, spill. Who’s that?” She nodded toward Sevika, who was still standing back, arms crossed, watching the reunion with an unreadable expression.

You hesitated. "Just… someone I've been talking to."

Dina raised an eyebrow. “Talking to? Babe, she looks like she’s about to eat you alive.”

Viktor chuckled. “And your brother does not seem thrilled about it.”

You followed his gaze and, sure enough, Jayce was eyeing Sevika like she was the biggest mistake you could make. He was tense, whispering something to Vi, who had the nerve to look guilty. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were talking about you and Sevika.

Before you could decide whether to ignore them or make a scene, Sevika finally approached, sliding up beside you, close enough that you could smell her cologne. She placed a heavy hand on your lower back and smirked at Dina and Viktor. “You gonna introduce me, princess?”

You stiffened at the nickname but quickly recovered. “Dina, Viktor, this is Sevika.”

Dina was the first to react, her eyes flashing with something between intrigue and warning as she held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Viktor gave a polite nod, but before the conversation could go further, Jayce stormed over. “Can we talk?” His voice was sharp, directed only at you.

You sighed. “Jayce—”

“Now.”

Sevika’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, but you gave her a look, silently telling her to stand down before following Jayce toward a quieter spot near the balcony.

The second you were alone, he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Are you serious? First, you disappear with her after the race, and now she’s here at your birthday?”

You scoffed. “Jayce, I’m not a kid. I can talk to whoever I want.”

“She’s bad news,” he snapped. “You know that.”

“She’s not as bad as you think.”

Jayce let out a humorless laugh. “Right. Because the last time you got caught up with the wrong crowd, it ended so well, didn’t it?”

Your stomach twisted at the reminder. “I’m not going to relapse.”

Jayce’s expression darkened. “With the decisions you’re making? I doubt that.”

Anger bubbled up in your chest. “You don’t get to control me, Jayce. You’re my brother, not my damn parent.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Someone has to be.”

Before you could fire back, a voice cut in. “Everything good here?”

You turned to see Sevika leaning against the railing, watching the two of you with a lazy smirk—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jayce clenched his jaw. “Yeah, great,” he muttered before brushing past both of you and heading back inside.

Sevika waited a beat before glancing at you. “You alright?”

You let out a breath, forcing a smile. “Yeah. It’s my birthday. I’m not letting him ruin it.”

Sevika studied you for a moment before offering her hand. “Then come dance with me.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the party where Jayce was now whispering something to Viktor and Vi, no doubt about you.

Screw it.

You took Sevika’s hand, letting her lead you back inside—straight into whatever chaos the night had left to offer.

The music pulsed through the venue, and Sevika’s hands were firm on your waist as she guided you across the dance floor. Her grip was possessive, her touch warm against the fabric of your dress. The world around you blurred—just you, her, and the way your bodies moved in sync.

Then, suddenly, a rough grip yanked at your wrist.

You barely had time to register what was happening before Vi was dragging you toward the balcony, her hold tight and unyielding.

"Vi, what the hell—"

"Just shut up and look," she snapped, shoving her phone into your hands.

You blinked down at the screen, your stomach twisting at the sight. There it was—clear as day—Sevika, sitting in a dimly lit booth at some bar, her arm thrown around a girl who was leaning into her. The next photo was worse. Sevika’s lips hovered dangerously close to another woman’s ear, her hand resting on her thigh. And the timestamps? Recent.

Your hands clenched around the phone.

"You really thought she was different, huh?" Vi’s voice was softer now, almost pitying. "I get it. She’s smooth. She makes you feel special. But she’s playing you, and you deserve better."

Anger boiled inside you, mixing with the hurt. You had been taking your time, trying to move carefully, trying to heal, and Sevika—she had been out here doing this?

Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and stormed back inside.

Sevika was still on the dance floor, casually sipping a drink, her expression lazy—like she had no clue the storm that was coming her way. When she noticed you approaching, she smirked. "What’s up, princess?"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you grabbed the bouquet of roses she had given you from the table and hurled them at her chest.

She caught them with ease, the smirk on her lips faltering. "Whoa—"

"You’re so fucking fake," you spat, voice shaking with rage. "You sat here acting like you actually cared, like you wanted something real with me. But this whole time? You’ve been running around with other women?"

Sevika’s jaw tensed. "It’s not like that—"

"Don’t you dare lie to me!" Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. "I should’ve known better. You were just a way to distract myself from everything else, but you? You were never serious about me. You were just stringing me along."

She exhaled, rolling her tongue against her cheek, but didn’t deny it. That was the worst part—no desperate attempts to prove her innocence, no rushed excuses. Just silence.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Leave."

Sevika’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but she didn’t argue. She took a step back, gripping the bouquet in one hand before finally turning away and walking toward the exit.

The moment she was gone, your chest felt hollow. Vi was standing nearby, watching carefully, as if waiting for you to break down.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you straightened your shoulders, took a deep breath, and grabbed another mimosa from the bar. It was your birthday. You weren’t about to let anyone ruin it—especially not Sevika.

As you stood there, gripping the fresh mimosa a little too tightly, Jayce appeared beside you. His expression was gentle, his usual playful energy dimmed with concern.

"Hey," he murmured, nudging your arm. "You okay? It’s time for the cake... and your speech."

You took a deep breath, pushing down the lingering emotions from your blow-up with Sevika. You weren’t about to let this ruin your night.

"Yeah," you said, voice steadier than you felt. "Let’s do it."

Jayce nodded, guiding you through the crowd as people parted, their voices lowering in anticipation. The mini stage was set up with the cake front and center—your favorite, decorated beautifully with candles flickering. The warmth of the moment hit you all at once as everyone’s eyes fell on you.

Stepping onto the stage, you took the microphone from Jayce and smiled, though your chest felt tight.

"First of all, I just want to say thank you to everyone who came tonight," you began, your voice carrying through the room. "It means so much to have you all here, celebrating with me."

You swallowed, exhaling slowly before continuing.

"I know my papa would’ve loved to see this," you said, your voice catching slightly. "He always told me that birthdays should be spent surrounded by love, laughter, and good people. And looking at all of you tonight, I know he’d be proud."

The crowd was quiet now, some nodding, some exchanging small, knowing smiles.

"I also want to thank my friends from Italy—Dina and Viktor—for flying down here to celebrate with me. It means more than I can even put into words." You smiled at them, Dina giving you a little thumbs-up while Viktor nodded with his usual quiet support.

"And of course," you continued, eyes landing on the two people who had stuck by you through everything, "Jinx and Ekko. I know I third-wheel like, a lot, but I wouldn’t trade you guys for anything." A few chuckles rippled through the crowd as Jinx shot you a wink, and Ekko gave you a mock bow.

But then, as you stood there, holding the microphone, something inside you shifted. The weight of everything—the past few months, the heartbreak, the grief, the longing—pressed down on you all at once.

Your throat tightened, and suddenly, the words didn’t want to come out.

You glanced down at the cake, at the candles waiting to be blown out, at the faces around you, expectant and warm. This was supposed to be a celebration.

But you couldn’t do it.

You stood on the stage, gripping the microphone tightly, your knuckles turning white. The weight in your chest was suffocating, pressing down harder with every pair of eyes staring back at you. This was supposed to be a happy moment. You were supposed to feel loved, celebrated. But instead, all you felt was hollow.

You exhaled shakily, forcing a smile that barely held.

"I know birthdays are supposed to be about happiness," you started, your voice softer than before. "A celebration of another year, surrounded by the people you love. And I should be happy tonight."

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the microphone stand.

"But I’m not."

The room grew eerily silent. Even the quiet clinking of glasses stopped as everyone focused on you.

"I feel like... everyone I love is either leaving me, giving up on me, or hurting me," you admitted, your voice cracking. "And I don’t know if it’s something I did, or if I’m just too much, but it keeps happening, over and over. And I don’t know how to stop it."

Your chest ached, and your vision blurred slightly, but you pressed on.

"I feel like a horrible person for even saying this right now. This should be a good night, right?" You let out a small, humorless laugh. "I have my friends here, my family, a beautiful party. But I feel like I’m struggling to even keep myself together."

You looked down at the stage, shaking your head.

"I wish I stayed in Italy," you whispered, barely loud enough for the microphone to catch. "At least there, I didn’t feel like I was constantly losing the people I care about."

Your throat tightened again, and without another word, you placed the microphone back on the stand. You didn’t wait for the reactions, didn’t look at the stunned faces staring back at you. Instead, you turned and walked off the stage, pushing through the crowd, ignoring Jayce calling your name as you slipped out of the room.

The second the door shut behind you, the cold night air hit you, and for the first time that night, you let yourself breathe.

You leaned against the cool railing of the balcony, staring down at the city lights below. The night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the numbness sitting heavy in your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the ache, but it didn’t work. It never did.

The door creaked open behind you, followed by hesitant footsteps. You already knew who it was before he spoke.

"Hey," Jayce’s voice was cautious, careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. "You okay?"

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Do I look okay?"

He sighed, stepping beside you. "You know that’s not what I meant."

Silence settled between you, the distant hum of the city the only sound filling the space.

"You scared the hell out of me up there," he finally said. "And not just up there. Lately, you’ve been—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck before turning fully to you. "I just— You’re struggling, and I don’t know how to help you."

Your fingers curled against the railing, grip tightening. "Then don’t act like I’m some glass doll about to break, Jayce. I don’t need you watching me like a damn babysitter."

"That’s not what I’m doing," he said quickly, then sighed. "I just—" He hesitated, his voice lowering, "I just don’t want you to do something stupid again."

You froze, every muscle in your body going rigid.

"What?" Your voice was sharp now, laced with disbelief.

Jayce shifted uncomfortably. "You know what I mean—"

"No," you cut him off, turning to face him fully. "Say it."

His jaw tensed, but he wouldn’t look at you. "I mean... I don’t want you overdosing again."

The words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating.

Your breath hitched as anger flooded through you, a sharp, burning anger that swallowed every other feeling.

"You really think that little of me?" Your voice wavered, but not with sadness—pure, unfiltered rage. "You really think that’s where I’m at? That after everything, after clawing my way back from that hell, I’d just throw it all away?"

"That’s not what I meant," Jayce said quickly, but you weren’t done.

"You don’t trust me, do you?" Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. "You think I’m so weak that the second shit gets hard, I’ll just slip right back into it, right?" You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "That’s fucked up, Jayce."

He looked at you, guilt washing over his face, but it wasn’t enough.

"I won’t overdose," you said firmly, voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. "I won’t. But the fact that you think I will—that you doubt me that much—hurts more than anything else."

Jayce opened his mouth, but you shook your head. "Don’t," you muttered. "Just… don’t."

You turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as you stared out at the city again, jaw clenched.

Jayce stood there for a moment before sighing. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I just— I don’t know how to be there for you the right way."

You didn’t answer, and after a long pause, Jayce exhaled sharply. "I’ll be inside if you need me."

The door opened and shut again, leaving you alone with nothing but your racing thoughts and the cold night air.

You stayed by the railing, arms crossed tightly as if that could hold you together. Your heart was still racing, fury still burning in your chest from your fight with Jayce. You felt exhausted—emotionally drained from everything, from everyone.

The door creaked open again.

You huffed, not bothering to turn around. “I swear, if you’re back to—”

“It’s me,” Vi’s voice cut through the night, quieter than usual. Almost hesitant.

Your grip on the railing tightened. Of course, she’d follow.

You didn’t turn to face her. “What do you want?”

A beat of silence. Then, “To check on you.”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “You’re kidding, right?” You turned, eyes blazing as you finally met her gaze. “You—of all people—want to check on me?”

Vi didn’t flinch, didn’t react at all. She just stood there, hands tucked into her pockets, letting you rage.

“You don’t get to do this, Vi.” Your voice shook with anger. “You don’t get to walk out of my life, cut me off, treat me like I never mattered—and then act like you care when it’s convenient for you.”

She didn’t say anything, just listened, expression unreadable.

That only made you angrier.

“You broke me, Vi. You broke me.” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop. “And now, what? You think a few words are gonna fix that? You think you can just walk back in like nothing happened?”

Still, she stayed quiet, watching you with those same unreadable eyes.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Say something, damn it!”

Vi inhaled sharply, then—finally—spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

It was so simple. So quiet. And yet, it cut through you like a blade.

Your jaw clenched. “That’s it?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “For everything. For hurting you. For making you feel like you didn’t matter. You did.” She swallowed hard. “You do.”

You turned away, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. “Then why did you leave?”

Silence stretched between you. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer. Then—

“Because I was scared,” she admitted. “Of how much I loved you.”

You froze.

“I thought…” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I thought I was doing the right thing. That pushing you away would protect you. That you’d be better off without me.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Turns out, I’m an idiot.”

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Her words hung heavy in the air between you, suffocating.

“I love you,” Vi said, softer this time. “I never stopped.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I know.”

More silence.

Vi sighed, shifting on her feet. “You don’t have to say it back,” she murmured. “I just… I needed you to know.”

You shook your head, scoffing. “Great timing.”

“I know,” she repeated. Then, with a small smile, she added, “But you’ve got people waiting for you inside. And an expensive party to finish.”

You let out a breath, glancing at her from the corner of your eye. She was still watching you, but she didn’t push. Didn’t demand anything from you.

For the first time that night, the fire inside you dimmed—just a little.

Without another word, you turned toward the door, stepping past her.

Vi didn’t stop you. She just stood there, watching as you disappeared back inside.

As you stepped back inside, the noise of the party hit you all at once—the chatter, the clinking glasses, the music playing softly in the background. But none of it mattered when you saw your mother rushing toward you, her face full of worry.

Before you could react, she pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if she could shield you from everything weighing on your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “If any part of this—of what you’re feeling—is my fault, I’m sorry.” She pulled back slightly, cupping your face with both hands. “You’re my baby, and I hate seeing you hurt.”

You hesitated. The emotions inside you were still raw, still heavy. But as you looked into her tear-filled eyes, something in you softened.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and, slowly, wrapped your arms around her. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She held you tighter, rubbing your back before finally pulling away with a small, teary smile. “Come on,” she said gently, looping her arm through yours. “Let’s go to the cake.”

You let her guide you through the crowd, past familiar faces—Ekko, Jinx, Viktor, Jayce—all watching you with expressions ranging from concern to relief.

Then, the lights dimmed slightly, and the first note of the birthday song started.

Your mother squeezed your arm as the room filled with voices singing Happy Birthday to you…

You glanced around, taking it all in. People clapping, smiling, watching you. Despite everything—despite how drained, how exhausted you felt—there was something comforting about the moment.

As the song ended, you leaned forward, staring at the flickering candles. You took a deep breath, then blew them out.

Cheers and applause filled the room.

Happy birthday to you.

taglist : @mommymilkers0526 @rhian88 @wrappedinvines @nanajustnana-a @prettybunnyscorner @s7nburn @ghutzz4gutz @pornoangelz @veladeangl @hauntedbydreams @taurtel @lorasdolly @catvi6luvr @savedforlaterr @eggphobic @alex-thegiraffeboyy @artfairyyyyy @jordynhartley2001 @ellieslefttit @h0n3yf0rlif3 @rizzscary @bjjeweledx @cherrybomb2298 @brooks-lin @vintagekarma @ags-artnstuff @axolotl-arsonist @mingitheii @baylegend6 @kiiramiz @lez-zuha @jupitism

(also serious not serious i am a broke ass college student and if you can find it in your heart to give me a buck or two...ill eat your ass.)

venmo : i04kai

[sasahuaa]

i have been a bit sick for the past few days and couldn’t finish the vil as an omega, so here are some scrapped ideas that i cut out from it for not being up to the concept that i wanted/couldn’t find a way to match with the rest of the story/very specific behaviors, when i fully recover i will post the full piece

gn!reader

Spoiled omega!Vil who hates jealousy, he thinks it's childish and below him, he won't actively try to make you jealous and he expects the same treatment of you, but he can easily feel his blood boil if you even look or mention Neige, he quietly stomps and hugs your arm close to his body in a iron grip.

Spoiled omega!Vil that when he is with his mate, he constantly has the need to remind them that he is right there, touching your body or wearing alluring outfits and make up, he revels at your eyes on him and won't take for granted even a sliver of attention

Spoiled omega!Vil who can be a bit petulant from time to time, if you two fight and he feels kind of daring, he actively hides your keys, wallets or phone so you talk to him first.

Spoiled omega!Vil who takes photos of you sleeping, especially if you are in his nest, he saves all of them in a separate album in his phone, other albums that Vil has of you are photos with him and candid photos of you.

Spoiled omega!Vil who constantly hears that “he is too pretty to date”, he jokes about it with you, asking what you like about him, he won't stop until he feels he had his fill of heartfelt answers.

Spoiled omega!Vil who steals you away frequently, he has a busy agenda, not only his work, but school and his routine of self-care and studies often get on the way to spend proper time with you, so when he does have free time, he finds you quickly and brings you to his dorm or leaves with you to a outdoor date.

[the-suns-temple]

🔆 Honoring the Sun 🔆

Today I would like to explain some ways in which you can incorporate honoring the sun into your daily routine. All of which are rather low effort, and can be done without contributing too much energy. These are all based on my personal practice, of course.

Honoring the Sun in your daily life:

🔆 Wearing jewelry with depictions of the Sun - a necklace, hair pin, earring, rings, any form of accessory. 🔆 Eating sunflower seeds. 🔆 Putting honey in your drinks instead of sugar. 🔆 Say good morning to the sun whenever you wake up and goodnight to the sun whenever it sets. 🔆 Incorporate the colors brown, orange, yellow, and red into your outfits. 🔆 Wear gold jewelry - doesn't have to be real gold. 🔆 Wear bronze jewelry - doesn't have to be real bronze. 🔆 Wear a veil. Even though the Sun is traditionally masculine, veiling is a good way to protect your scalp while being out in the sun. 🔆 Wear outfits authentic to yourself. 🔆 If you can, pick up gardening. Plants feed on the Sun, and by being outdoors gardening, you can feed off of the sun, too. 🔆 Go for a hike. Or simply go for a walk through your neighborhood. 🔆 Try waking up at sunrise to rise with the Sun. Or go outside and watch the sunset. Not everyone can wake up at the crack of dawn. 🔆 If you can, put your bed near a window facing East so you can wake up to the sun shining in.

Please feel free to contribute your own ideas and methods of honoring the Sun in the comments and reblogs. Thank you so much for reading.

Best wishes, and blessed be, from Rafael.

Khaire

[ronearoundblindly]

a kiss out of envy + ari 🤭

As promised, love, I give you...

frat boy!Ari Levinson x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024 (yes, you read that correctly, and no, I don't want to talk about it. 🥲 It's been a rough year lol.)

Summary: You and Ari want each other for all the wrong reasons.

Warnings (regarding both parts of the story) for drinking and partying, language, shitty behavior from...yeah everyone is a bit of a mess in this ngl (it's college), vaguely taboo mutual pining, and not-really cheating/implied cheating (applies to multiple people). This is an angsty weird fluffy sorta romance with an ambiguous ending because no one can communicate to save their f**king lives...BUT HEY! KISSES. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for younger readers on my Light Masterlist, but not here! WC 3.9k

A/N: This is the first half from Reader's perspective.

College is…predictable.

You spent the first weeks of your freshman year faking self-assurance you didn’t actually feel because confidence is sexy—or whatever the saying is,—and if you had to start from scratch, you might as well start from a place you’re proud of.

You made friends. You went out with your roommate. You stayed out late with lots of people you don’t know, and you smiled. Holy shit, did you smile…

The attempt to ‘get out there’ brought constant stress; you wanted to define your social life right off the bat, but good people are hard to find.

You officially decided you were looking in the wrong place for any good people while at the Lawn Party three-quarters of the way through your first semester.

Finally, you’d tried. You pulled out all the stops. You wore the nicer, trendier clothes that you splurged on for events just like this. You put on extra makeup, brought some with you in your little purse to touch it up, and when you smiled in the mirror seconds before running out of the dorm with your roomie, you really were self-assured. You felt sexy.

Though the party was outdoors, you stuck with just the one layer of a light-colored, flowy top, something whimsical and fun, something less useful and more useless, but that’s the idea of fashion, you suppose.

When the breeze caught the fabric, you imagined you were in a movie, one of those scenes where the heroine is about to get noticed by the man of her dreams.

That is exactly the opposite of what happened.

You’d been there all of half an hour, your roommate off to get drinks (after you whined and waited and stalled, hoping to strike up some conversation without partaking in the shared, bad decisions of the swath of 18-22 year olds meandering across a grass field behind the sports complex), when you heard a really loud, shrill laugh behind you and turned.

A red Solo cup crumpled against your boob and beer exploded across your chest, drenching your shirt and dripping grossly down your stomach.

“Wooooah,” the big guy still gripping shredded plastic drawled, eyes glued to your see-through blouse as it clung to your front. “Sorry.”

The girl who laughed with him put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh. My god.” Yet she just laughed more.

That was it. That was the sum total acknowledgment of your destroyed outfit and evaporated dignity.

“Ari,” someone called, startling your assailant to look away with his unresponsive, blown pupils.

You noticed a few drops of beer on his letterman jacket, so, sure, in comparison to your entire front half being soaked, that seemed a fair-and-equal trade for your embarrassment.

Then he was gone, the laughing girl following the asshole, Ari, and his idiot friends as they recapped the football game from…whenever.

You left the party once the waistband of your jeans felt soggy.

You spent longer washing your beer-sponge bra in the dorm sink than you did on the lawn.

Now you know college is a fucking joke. That party became a defining moment in your social life. You realized men—no, boys—like Ari will never care about you as you really are, and finally, you’ve accepted that you don’t want them to.

They don’t deserve to know you.

Sophomore year. Women’s Studies. Of all the fucking classes…

On day one Ari plopped down in the desk next to you.

He plopped because his whole left leg was strapped into a thick brace that kept it straight and jutted out, unable to fit in the tiny seat. He’s so tall his thonged foot tapped at yours beneath your own chair.

In your utter frustration and irritation (since the professor had already started talking), you automatically muttered an apology—to Ari, like some pushover—and moved your legs.

“Not your fault,” the footballer softly chuckled, taking another long moment to settle his crutches on the floor.

Were there no other seats?

You sighed and knew, you just knew down in your bones, that this would be a long damn semester. You also had every faith, however, that this fuck-boy classmate would do just about anything to stay in the course dedicated to his favorite pastime: women.

Though that was an assumption, Ari proved you right, and it sucked.

It took all your innate kindness and compassion not to spit on him. Honestly, the guy is just…dumb. When your eyes wandered every so often, you always found him looking confused, but he wouldn’t ask questions. Several times you caught him sneaking peeks at your notes. You just couldn’t take it.

He fell asleep in one class!

With the course final mere weeks away, the OCD part of your brain kicked in and shoved several sheets of important points you’d written down into his lap before he fully woke up.

His brace was off by then, but Ari still moved slowly.

Again, he looked so confused.

“I expect them back on Wednesday,” you said with a tight jaw, barely restraining the choice names you’d wanted to call him.

You’d been conditioned so heavily to be nice that you smiled at him. A small smile, yeah, but you smiled at the coddled asshole who did not deserve to pass the class. You should have let him fail. You should have let him lean harder on that damn scholarship.

Football held his dead-weight up this long; what’s a few more years?

Nearly the end of your Senior year. Off-campus. You’ve tried.

Socializing is a hit-and-miss game, and you’re learning that sometimes the miss happens slowly, without failed plays, with all the effort you could muster.

“Look, if we’re not doing anything here, then I’m going to the party. You coming? The house is two blocks away.”

Your boyfriend, Billy, stands with his apartment door open and his roommates calling to him from down the hall. He’s frustrated, you know that, but his frustration doesn’t negate the uneasy twist in your gut you get whenever he tries to take things further than making out.

Billy is perfect on paper. He studies hard, has a job already lined up for summer, is driven to achieve…and desperately wants to get laid.

He’s cute, totally adequate in that department, yet still, you can’t force yourself to let him touch you any more than absolutely necessary. You two have excellent conversations, multiple shared interests, and you have no words to describe your lack of…want. It eats you up right along with that twisting aversion to fuck him—because it is specific to him.

You don’t lack for interest in men, even if these are still boys around you. You’re attracted. Kinda. You thought attraction could grow from affection, too, but it hasn’t in months with Billy. It doesn’t make you think he lacks in some way; you feel lacking.

Maybe you lack sympathy. Maybe you lack understanding. Maybe you are just as superficial as those slutty girls you hate, the ones sure to be at this party. Maybe Billy thinks those girls will rub off on you if you’re surrounded.

There’s no one thing, no quantifiable logic; he just doesn’t do it for you. That won’t change.

Your relationship has an expiration date, and you feel it approaching.

Unsurprisingly, you can’t bring yourself to be mean and tell him an outright ‘no.’ It’s rude to say ‘I’m not attracted to you,’ right? You’re a nice person, and it’s not nice to hurt someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.

The heavy pain in your belly grows dense, but still, nothing changes.

The compulsion to be kind and quiet continues as you follow him out, tucking your hands under your arms so Billy won’t try to touch you, but it doesn’t matter. He walks a few feet ahead to keep up with his friends on the walk down the road to the Kappa house.

The two-story, plantation-style home is packed to the gills, making it hard to maneuver past the front door, and of course, the first person you recognize is a brother of the fraternity living there.

Ari Levinson stands halfway up the staircase overlooking the crowd like a king surveying his domain, hair grown long and a beard worthy of his fifth-year undergrad status. He’s wearing a button-up linen shirt as if he just walked in from the beach, perpetually sun-kissed skin glowing, the carefree blue fabric matching his eyes.

Asshole.

He probably showed up to his own damn house, cocked his head, and smirked.

“Y’all having a party?” he probably asked, chill as fuck.

Idiot…probably. You don’t know what happened to him after Women’s Studies, but you can’t imagine he got better. Nothing changes.

His queen-for-the-day leans into his ear, her chest covered only by a red bandana and not much below that hidden by a miniskirt.

What sluts. Both of them. They deserve each other.

He’s so sexy though.

His smile is bright while he doesn’t spill the contents of his red Solo cup on anyone beneath him on the stairs. Seems his drunk coordination has improved at the very least.

“Babe,” you hear yelled close to your ear, “take it!”

Billy shoves one of two cups he’s carrying into your hands and shouts to follow him. He wants to play beer pong in one of back rooms downstairs, a room with no space to stand and watch. There are no chairs, but Billy asks if want to play with him. In no reality would he think you’d answer ‘yes’ in this chaos, but then again, he hasn’t noticed you won’t take a sip of the drink you didn’t see poured either. That’s not even a trusting him problem; for all you someone else made the drinks for Billy, and then you absolutely don’t trust it.

If he can’t manage to notice your reticence, why should Billy care if you’re comfortable?

You yell back that you’re going to find a seat somewhere. Billy gets whisked away for the next partnered game, and relief washes over you.

The only open spot that isn’t a squeeze beside couples going at it in public is a bench underneath the cutout of the staircase. You take a detour to dump your cup in the crowded kitchen’s sink and sit alone for a while, people-watching, wondering vaguely about the king and queen above you on the steps.

Parties…are not all that fun when you don’t feel safe, welcome, or seen. College is predictable this way.

You’re not sure how much time passes before a light blue linen shirt invades your view.

Looking to your right, you don’t see anyone paying attention, and looking to your left you see a sloped wall.

He’s looking directly at you.

“Thirsty?” Ari asks casually, offering the only cup he carries.

You wave it off with a polite ‘no, thank you,’ even though that should be sketchier than your boyfriend getting you a drink.

Ari takes a huge gulp and shuffles his broad body onto the too-short edge of the bench beside you. He seems careful not to touch you or invade your space, the barest graze of a short-sleeve cuff brushing the skin of your upper arm.

Again, Ari tilts the cup toward you. “Jack and Coke,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows, “mostly Coke though. I’ve been here a while. You’re basically late.”

You can’t help but blurt, “you live here.”

“That is an astute observation, smartie pants,” he adds with a proud smile. Those, you imagine, might be the biggest words the guy knows.

You also imagine he wouldn’t drug himself with anything,, and worst case, Ari’s already much drunker than you.

You pluck the half-full Solo from his hand, your pinky running the length of his forefinger in the process, knuckles hard beneath callused skin, and take a small sip. He’s right about one thing; you can’t smell or taste any alcohol.

His smile softens. Your pinky tingles even after you return his drink.

“Where’s whats-his-face?” Ari scans the hall. “Probably getting you something better, huh?”

You can’t help but frown and sigh as he takes another swig of soda, pink lips nearly hidden beneath the hair of his beard, but you remember they are quite plump. He only had stubble in class two years ago. You shouldn’t be thinking about what those lips might feel like. Hell, you shouldn’t be sharing a drink with anyone because that’s more intimate than anything you’ve enjoyed doing with Billy recently.

Billy is pushy and inexperienced. Every time he goes to touch you, it reminds you that he’s desperate for it, but…not in a flattering way. It’s difficult to describe.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you throw out loudly, keeping your guess silent. Perhaps hugging the toilet bowl?

Though a simple question, Ari looks somewhere between giddy and chided while contemplating his answer. He’s so dumb, poor thing. “Flying with the pigs,” he settles on.

“What?”

He repeats himself, and then, seeing your confusion, he leans closer to clarify, “she doesn’t exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Ow, rough gig bandana girl. That’s a little harsh: being fobbed off mid-party. Although, you aren’t exactly replacing her. Ari is just talking to you. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s sitting beside you, only a little closer than Women’s Studies, sharing a sip of soda. That’s all.

“So, genius—”Ari elbows you gently, taking advantage to stay arm-to-arm this time “—how you been?”

You notice you’ve been shrinking against the wall and straighten as best you can without looking as if you’re pushing your boobs out.

“Fine. Just…busy with school work.”

Internally, you groan, hating to sound so boring and feeding into this idea you are nothing but a bookworm.

Ari swallows the last of his drink, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs lewdly—at least, it should be considered lewd with how the motion leads your eye down to the matching dark chest hair peeking behind the shirt collar. He scrunches his nose when the bubbles hit the back of his palate.

“Good. You always seemed happy. Bet you’re top of our class.” He emphasizes the year because he should have graduated already. Originally, he was a year ahead, but then he took a red-shirt year while injured. Ari doesn’t appear to mind that’s something else you share.

You bite your lip and wonder if he’s baiting you. If there’s one thing you’ve heard consistently in your whole young adult life, it’s that you ‘look angry’ and could ‘benefit’ from smiling more.

“I’m…somewhere up there, yeah,” you allow.

He points over his other shoulder and shimmies the empty cup in front of him. “You want one? What’s your favorite?”

For the first time all night, what you want has been considered. Not only if you want a drink, but which one do you want. Such a small thing, and yet the twist in your stomach unfurls a little. The drink itself doesn’t matter; the thought does. That, and being comfortable near him.

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ari flashes that megawatt smile of his and says he’ll be back in a jiffy.

The true value of a beautiful idiot is you don’t have to be on edge. Your basic knowledge of any subject (save sports) would read as genius to a guy like him…which is also why it feels so unbelievable Ari’s choosing to hang in this corner with you. He’s friends with everyone. He could get anything from anybody here. It’s nice to be wanted, not needed.

He returns with two cups, one with a couple shots worth of Jack Daniels, the other full of CocaCola. He looks at you for approval, hesitating in case you want just plain soda, and then makes a huge show of his ‘mixing’ skills.

Absolute moron did not consider the carbonation exploding with every pour back and forth.

It’s a horrible mess of foam and splashing liquid. Both his hands are dripping and sticky, but you laugh freely by the end. You never thought you’d see the day Ari Levinson spilling a drink wouldn’t be triggering.

Not even a fleeting image of that ruined blouse crosses your mind while you weakly clinkthe plastic cups together. It’s the epitome of the college experience in your eyes. For once, you aren’t upset by that fact.

You keep smiling, wrinkling your nose at the fizz bursting on the back of your tongue. You can’t help it.

Ari is a happy drunk, and he starts talking, joking with you, tucked away in your own little bubble.

It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

He’s self-deprecating about the same, drunken party behavior that you have watched him participate in for years, and yet you dismiss that as nothing, normal even, and unconsciously nudge closer to Ari, your side flush with his as you bend to see the person he’s bad-mouthing now.

He seems to like the irony in that and chuckles as he says someone over there is getting sloppy, lifting his Solo to his mouth with a dainty pinky raised in defiance. He’s a goofball. You haven’t been so relaxed with someone in…months.

Both drinks are finished quickly, and Ari offers to grab more.

The warm buzz humming beneath your skin tells you ‘yes,’ but your higher brain function steadfastly puts a foot down.

“I shouldn’t,” you mutter, sounding undecided.

He shrugs. For whatever reason, you appreciate that Ari isn’t pushing for anything from you, but that’s exactly what makes you want more from him. He stacks the empty cups and mentions walking you home. He could use some fresh air, he says.

“I should find Billy…”

Ari rolls his shoulders and thinks, his eyes follow suit, scraping his peripheral vision for an alternative that never presents. He stands up, arms akimbo, dramatically squinting to ‘think’ harder.

“He was wearing that red ball cap, right?”

“What?” You’ve never seen your boyfriend don a hat once but suddenly remember the pong partner who pulled him over. “No, that’s Leo,” you scream over the noise now that Ari is standing a few paces away. “Billy’s in, like, a neutral t-shirt.”

Ari smirks, scanning. “One beige Billy, coming up!”

Off he darts into the crowd, much faster than you’ve ever seen a drunk man move, and you skitter behind, realizing Ari stops at the kitchen only when you slam into his back.

He throws the empty cups into the trash and turns to the sink, washing his hands with dish soap, drying them on his shirt, leaving darker streaks of blue.

“Okay, not sticky,” Ari beams, “so now we go.”

Easily, naturally, his hand scoops up yours, and Ari leads you deftly through the throng.

He’s holding your hand. It’s damp and rough and cool and warm all at once. And you grasp it. You’re holding his hand back.

Though tall enough to see over most heads, Ari takes a good long while to notice everyone because they keep moving about. 

Pointing with your still-joined hands, you shout to check the beer pong room, but no Billy.

You two amble through the entire lower floor, stopped several times by people greeting Ari, and he introduces you automatically. You hope none of these other drunk frat boys remembers seeing you hold his hand while asking where your damn boyfriend is.

Without fail, each friend asks if you two are together, and to his credit, Ari quickly changes to “have you seen a guy…” and describes Billy.

“Dunno, man. Check upstairs?”

Ari thanks them and glances at you, a look of defeat creasing his forehead.

He drums his free fingers on the banister. He hesitates.

“Wait here?” he offers but drops your hand and doesn’t pause for your reply.

Using a football drill tactic, Ari bolts expertly up the stairs while you get waylaid by some girls holding up a selfie-stick to make a video. They bitch at the angle, ignoring you, and have to reshoot. You can’t get past.

Yelling.

Suddenly, there’s lots of yelling coming from the packed second floor and a door slams. Half the people in the stairway and hall look up.

More crashing and thudding noises ring out.

With everyone frozen, you shove your way through.

“What the fuck,” you hear just as some guy backs away, almost knocking you down. “Who the hell do you think you are, man?”

Your legs take you inside though your heart lodges in your throat.

Ari’s got Billy pinned over a wrecked desk on the other side of the room while the girl with the bandana top stands by a bed, pulling down her mini skirt. She snaps for Ari to mind his own business, and Ari immediately shoots a glare at her over his shoulder, keeping Billy pinned beneath him.

“Beks, for fuck’s sake,” Ari starts, but quickly, the guy who pushed you in the hall cusses her out louder than anyone else.

“Serves you right for getting back with Erin,” Bandana Girl snaps.

“Eat shit, Rebekah. You don’t actually care!”

What…is going on? These people are nuts.

At least four more bodies squeeze through the door, all looking blazing-mad while you get pushed farther into the suffocating room. You’re bewildered and overwhelmed.

Blocker Guy lunges forward and shoves Ari off of Billy.

Your hands are up, claiming space to breathe, but there’s way too much going on. No one—not even you—can hear your voice crying to be let out.

Funny thing is, you aren’t crying for Billy to help you. Only after you yell for Ari does your brain process that your boyfriend’s fly is down, his jeans unbuttoned, too.

A large, rough hand grabs your wrist and yanks you to the door, barreling you both through the crowd to another room down the hall. It’s surreal to see the group descend on the fight like moths to a flame, drawn to watch what horrible thing these students will do next.

Ari man-handles you inside without hitting a light switch. It’s pitch black, but the closed door at your back muffles only a fraction of the commotion.

From the other side, you hear Billy calling your name, but Ari’s soft, panting breath steals your focus as it gusts across your neck.

His lips shift close to your ear.

“Don’t do it, smartie,” he whispers. “Leave him.”

The stale smell of beer wafts forward when you lean farther into that letterman jacket Ari keeps prominently hung. You feel the ribs of the cuffs against your bare arms until, suddenly, it’s the ridges of Ari’s rough fingers ghosting over your skin.

If Billy’s still screaming, you can’t tell. Your heart thunders in your chest as the hot breath rolling over you moves up your neck and over your jaw.

He’s right there.

He’s right there. He’s drunk. He’s stupid. He doesn’t matter. You don’t matter to him. It’ll never work and it doesn’t have to. This could be so simple.

You envy how easy this is for him, always another girl around the corner, in the next room, who will want him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about wanting to use him. He’s right there, willingly, single or not, sober or not, and so you grip the soft linen of his shirt collar and tug him straight to you.

It doesn’t matter how sloppy you are, how shy or how forceful you get, because you live like him in this moment.

Ari doesn’t care about anything. Self-assured. Confident. Sexy. Popular. He doesn’t have to care.

Now, neither do you.

[Next Part]

⬅️ Steve Rogers and a kiss where it hurts

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]