#all i need to do is go along with his little plans and he's down on his knees for me this is great

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: Kiss

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time Dean Winchester kisses you Word count: 861 A/N: I am debating on making this a series, covering different "Firsts" with Dean.. Any interest in that? Let me know!

The first time Dean Winchester kisses you, it happens in the least romantic place imaginable—an old gas station parking lot on the outskirts of nowhere. The sun is setting, casting an amber glow over the cracked asphalt and the Impala parked nearby, her paint gleaming like polished obsidian. The faint smell of gasoline mingles with the crisp scent of impending rain, a storm brewing in the distance.

It wasn’t planned. Nothing about Dean ever feels planned, really. He’s a mess of contradictions—cocky and self-assured one minute, guarded and vulnerable the next. You’ve been riding shotgun with him for weeks now, chasing down leads, salt-and-burning restless spirits, and fighting things most people wouldn’t dare to believe existed. Somewhere along the way, you became more than just hunting partners. You don’t know what to call it yet, but there’s a connection between you, an unspoken pull that you’ve both been too stubborn—or scared—to acknowledge.

Until now.

It starts with an argument. Of course it does. Dean has this way of pushing your buttons, and tonight he’s doing it with the precision of a master.

“You can’t just run in there without a plan!” you snap, your arms crossed over your chest.

“And what was your plan, huh?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “To stand around and wait until the ghost decides to play nice? That’s not how this works.”

“It’s called strategy, Dean. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of going full kamikaze every damn hunt!”

He scoffs, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “You know what your problem is? You think too much. Sometimes you just gotta act.”

“And you think too little!” you retort, your eyes narrowing. “One of these days, your impulsiveness is going to get you killed.”

The words hang in the air, sharper than you intended, and for a moment, Dean just stares at you. His jaw tightens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or regret—but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Fine,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If you’ve got it all figured out, why the hell do you even need me?”

It’s not the first time you’ve fought, but there’s something different about this one. The air between you feels charged, like the storm rolling in above. You don’t answer right away, and Dean takes a step closer, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Why, huh?” he presses, his tone softer but no less intense. “Why do you keep sticking around if I’m such a screw-up?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs, a wild, erratic rhythm that matches the storm clouds overhead. You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. Because it’s not that simple. Because you don’t stick around in spite of his flaws—you stick around because of them. Because Dean Winchester, for all his faults, is the kind of person who will throw himself in harm’s way without a second thought to save someone else. Because he’s loyal to a fault, fiercely protective, and has a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the world, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

“Dean…” you start, but his name barely makes it past your lips before he moves.

It’s not hesitant or tentative—it’s sudden, like he’s been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. His hands cup your face, rough and calloused but somehow gentle, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed. It’s not perfect—Dean’s lips are a little chapped, and the angle is slightly awkward at first—but it’s real. There’s an urgency to it, a raw, unfiltered emotion that leaves you breathless. His hands are warm against your skin, grounding you even as the world seems to tilt on its axis.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your hands are fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer as if the space between you is unbearable. He responds in kind, deepening the kiss with a low, almost involuntary sound that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like the dam you’ve both been holding back has finally burst, and there’s no going back now.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together. The storm is closer now, the first drops of rain starting to fall, but neither of you seems to notice.

“Wow,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckles, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that. I probably should’ve—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your fingers still gripping his jacket. “Don’t apologize.”

His eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no wall, no mask, no bravado. Just Dean.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, his voice soft and almost vulnerable.

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Took you long enough.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and the tension between you finally seems to ease. The rain starts to pick up, but neither of you moves. For once, the hunt can wait. For once, the only thing that matters is this moment—messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect all at once.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[miupow]

ℌOℓเ𝔇AY 𝔇ECOɌATเNɠ ⸝⸝ 휴닝카이

asking your favorite i.t guy for help decorating goes horribly (or perfectly) wrong. 一 𝒾n 𝓌hich you and your coworker huening kai get stuck in a closet together during a snowstorm。

⧼ 🎄 ⧽ 一 𝓅airing・hueningkai x fem!reader 𝓰enre/𝓌arnings・smut, fluff, pwp, nsfw, minors do not interact! trapped in a closet trope, power outages, sex with the lights off, groping, breast worship, nipple sucking, dry humping, handjobs, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, pullout method, vaginal sex, cumshot, cum marking, begging, slight sub!kai but not really, praise kink, size kink, resolved romantic and sexual tension 𝓌c ・5. 9 k | 𝓉o 𝓁ibrary.

[𝓃otes。] holy shit this is so much longer than i meant for it to be. i was just possessed by some sort of demon and wrote this thing in two days, which is the fastest i've ever written anything ever... thank you @jellymochii for betareading! hope you all enjoy this cute little fic while on your holiday breaks ^_^

no one had ever bothered to warn you about how difficult it was to plan a party. maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity when it had been presented to you— though it was awfully in your nature as a corporate kiss-ass to accept any work-related project that was offered to you in blind hope that you’ll manage to impress some higher-up somewhere along the line. you had only been hired at txt bank a few months ago, anyway, and the lady you replaced was the one who oversaw all the holiday decorating. didn’t that mean, technically speaking, that by association it was now your job too? either way, you figured that it would do you some good to prove yourself dependable.

“i’m sure you’ll do great,” your boss, yeonjun had reassured you with a not-so-comforting pat on the back. “don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

you were terrified to ask for help. you didn’t even know most of your coworkers’ names yet, let alone feel comfortable enough with them to ask for help with a benefit-less side quest. it might just be paranoia, but you were sure they wouldn’t want to help you even if you did ask. the old financial analysist seems to have been a popular staple in the office, and you were a far cry away from the life of the party. young, inexperienced, and far too shy for your own good— you’ve never had any of your peers reach out to you for more than letting you know what you were doing wrong. yeonjun’s assistant, beomgyu, was the only person in the bank you felt even remotely comfortable with, having known him since you were a freshman in college, and without his mentoring and his happy-go-lucky attitude, you were sure that you would have buckled under the pressure long before you made it to the new year.

naturally, you run to him first.

“you don’t want my help, believe me,” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to face you. “why don’t you ask kai? you know he’ll say yes— hell, you could probably ask him to jump from the tenth floor and he’d do it. he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s not obsessed.” you retort weakly, rolling your eyes. “he’s just being nice.”

“sure, buying you coffee and lunch, following you around like a lost puppy, and offering to walk you to your car every night is just being nice.”

“i asked him to that first time!” you pout. “the parking garage is scary when it’s dark out…”

huening kai worked in the bank’s i.t. department, down in the basement. even then, you still saw him often, the poor boy constantly running up and down those stairs whenever he was called. he was the only stranger to welcome you warmly when you first began at the company, offering his assistance with anything you needed— it was an honest godsend, because the computer software went so far over your head it made you dizzy. you still haven’t gotten quite the hang of it, but that was mostly because it was difficult to focus on what kai was saying when he was bent over you so closely and intimately, explaining equations and spreadsheets with that soft, gentle voice of his. you only felt dizzier in his presence, so nothing he told you ever stuck… but that worked just fine for you, because that meant you could keep asking for his help.

beomgyu says that kai has a crush on you. you’re certain he’s just that sweet and friendly with everyone. 

as much as you hate it, beomgyu’s right that kai would help you out if you asked him to. you feel bad for hogging up all of his time, as busy as he is even when he isn’t assisting people, but if beomgyu won’t help you he’s the only other person you’re willing to ask. when you see him again later that evening, smiling that pretty lopsided smile that gives your tummy butterflies, offering to walk you through the parking garage again, you ask him meekly if he’d help you decorate for the office christmas party.

he accepts a little more enthusiastically than you had anticipated he would. “there’s a storage closet down in the basement that has some old decorations from last year’s party.” he tells you as you dig around in your purse for your car keys, “i can show it to you sometime if you’d like! it’ll have to be after everyone goes home, though. i’m technically not allowed to go rooting through storage.”

“isn’t there supposed to be a snowstorm tomorrow?” you ask. “yeonjun told me he’ll let everyone go home early if it starts getting really bad. maybe we can stay behind then?”

“ooh, sneaky.” kai giggles. “sounds like a plan!”

your heart raced the entire drive home. it was just going through some old dusty decorations, it wasn’t a date or anything even close to it, but why did your heartbeat flutter like it was one? that night you tossed and turned, unable to sleep— no matter how hard you tried to clear your head you couldn’t stop thinking about your plans with kai. part of you was nervous you would land in trouble with yeonjun if you were caught snuck around the office after hours, but all of that anxiety was drowned out effortlessly by your excitement and anticipation. alone? with kai? it might not be a date to him, but it sure was one to you.

by the time exhaustion finally overtook you, rays of light from the rising sun were already beginning to stream through the gap in your curtains. you get only a few hours of sleep before your morning alarm forces you awake. you’re tired and groggy, and can barely stay awake to get dressed and ready for work, but the sight of fresh falling snow out your window revitalizes you better than any cup of coffee. frigid, bitter wind slaps you in the face as you leave your house, your flimsy scarf and coat doing little to shield you from the brewing blizzard, but you can’t find it in you to be unhappy even as you nearly slip and break your neck getting to your car. this is exactly what you were hoping for, and a quick glance at your phone confirms that the snowfall is only going to get worse.

you find it difficult to focus all day, partly because of your nerves and partly because you kept looking out the office windows to admire the snow. seoul turns nearly invisible below you, all the streets and buildings covered in a sparkling, dazzling blanket of pure white that blinds you. it was oddly peaceful, the swirling snowfall silencing the usually loud and bustling city.

by lunchtime, you couldn’t see anything outside at all. the snowflakes turn rapidly to sleet and ice, and the wind picks up to the point it’s howling and shaking the windows. yeonjun began sending people home at two, and by four the office was silent for an entirely different reason.

you tell yeonjun that you have some extra statements to go through, but that you’ll be leaving shortly— you even make a show out of packing up your purse, going extra slow just in case he wants to stay and chat. thankfully, he exits the office without much fuss, reminding you to drive carefully, and to tell security when you’re leaving so they could lock up behind you.

“of course, sir, thank you. have a good night.” you reply with a tight smile, praying that you don’t look as guilty as you feel.

once you hear the exit doors close behind him, you shoot up out of your desk and hightail it to the basement. kai meets you at the stairs, grinning and waving excitedly with his bag slung over his shoulder. “it shouldn’t take very long, the closet’s pretty small,” he says, ushering you to follow him. “i want us both to get out of here before the storm gets any worse.”

while you certainly wouldn’t mind spending extra time alone with kai, the last thing you want is to get snowed in at the office. he leads you down a dimly lit hallway, flanked on each side by identical personal offices. the rooms were empty and dark, devoid of any signs of life or activity— it shouldn’t surprise you, seeing how everyone had left for the day, but something about the uncanny, isolated atmosphere gave you the creeps. kai continues to lead you to the very end of the hall, stopping at a scuffed, unmarked wooden door. a keypad fixed to the adjacent wall blinks brightly in the dark.

“this is the closet you were talking about?” you question, eyeing the door oddly. “it doesn’t look like a storage closet at all. why’s it got a keypad?”

“it used to be a server room, i think. there’s still some equipment in the back.” kai responds lightly, bending over slightly to plug in the code for the keypad. “now it’s just used to store stuff we don’t need, though only my department can use it. expensive computers and whatnot. after last year’s christmas party i helped put away everything, and i stored it all in here ‘cos i was too lazy to take it all the way to the top floor.”

the keypad beeps and the little blinking light turns green. kai pulls the door open and gestures you inside.

the air in the storage closet is stale and dusty. you search in the dark for the light switch, but kai locates it with ease, and you find yourself having to blink hard a couple of times to adjust to the near-blinding fluorescent light. against each wall countless labeled boxes and tubs are stacked up nearly to the ceiling, each one filled to the brim. a line of folding chairs leaned up against a broken desk, a ladder and some cleaning supplies occupied a far corner. as kai had said, abandoned old server racks had been pushed to the very back of the room, collecting dust, far too outdated to be of any use anymore. the room was small and narrow with no windows, barely enough room to move around besides the carefully constructed walkway that wove between all the junk. you feel awfully claustrophobic, especially with kai’s tall, broad frame stepping in behind you. you both toss your bags to an empty spot on the floor, and the door swings shut with a dull click.

you can still hear the storm outside, even down here. the wind howls and whips around viciously, and the sleet pummels the walls like thousands of tiny bullets.

“there should be a fake tree in here somewhere,” huening murmurs, squeezing past you to make his way towards the back of the closet. his chest brushes against your back as he moves past, and you can feel the firm planes of his broad pecs through the thin material of his button down shirt. “and some wreaths and ribbons and things. i think i hid them all back here so i wouldn’t get in trouble.”

you laugh airily, a little too distracted to fully pay attention to what he was saying. “you? in trouble? i don’t think yeonjun has the heart.”

kai shrugs, opening a random cardboard box and peering inside. “you’d be surprised. you haven’t been here long enough to see what he’s capable of— oh, by the way, how are you liking it here so far? getting the hang of everything?”

you should probably be helping him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the way the muscles in his back ripple through his shirt. “i, um. i’m still figuring it out. i really appreciate your help.”

the blizzard grows even louder outside, to the point it’s beginning to frighten you. you don’t think you’ve ever heard of a snowstorm causing a building’s walls to cave in, but there’s always a first for everything.

if kai notices that you haven’t moved from where you stood by the door, he doesn’t mention it. “no need to thank me! i’m happy to, really. i’ll help you out with whatever you need anytime, y/n, you just have to ask. you know you can count on me.” he moves on to another box, seemingly still searching in vain for those decorations. ”who’s your favorite coworker? if you have one, i mean—ah, that’s a stupid question. it’s probably beomgyu.”

kai’s tone changed suddenly, from happy and bright to something you couldn’t quite place. you’ve never heard kai sound like that before. “what do you mean?” you prod, cocking your head to the side.

he looks as if he’s weighing the question, biting the inside of his round cheek as his eyes look everywhere except at your face. “well, i mean, like… he’s your friend, right? and you and him have known each other for years now. you hang out with him every day, outside of work too, going to the bar and whatever. and you’re always talking about him, and laughing at his jokes, and looking his stupid face and his stupid hair—”

you’re not sure how to quite process that. “actually, kai… my favorite coworker is you.”

kai’s head spins around so fast that you’re afraid it’s going to come off, his big brown eyes wide with shock. “wait, what? really?!”

“yes, really.” you giggle, “i thought you would have known that, silly. beomgyu’s my friend and all, but he gets on my nerves all the time. you’ve just been so sweet to me when nobody else has, and you’ve made me feel so welcome… it really means a lot.”

kai’s face turns an adorable shade of pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. “oh. well. um. th-thank you. i—” he averts his eyes back to all the boxes, shyly lowering his head. his long dark bangs fall into his eyes, shielding the unreadable emotions that swirled in their dark chocolate depths. “i’m glad you feel that way… i can’t seem to find any of these stupid decorations, i’m worried we’re not going to be able to make it out of here before the power goes—”

just then, the light flickers, pops, and plunges both of you back into complete and total darkness.

“—out.”

it’s so dark inside the storage closet that you can’t even see your hands in front of your face— if you screw your eyes shut and open them again, it makes no difference, completely blind to everything except the cacophonous howling of the wind. “shit!” kai curses, the first time you’ve ever heard him do so, some loud stumbling and crashing coming from your left. “hold on, i’ll get us out of here—”

more crashing and banging, now moving your way; you open your mouth to warn him far too late, and kai barrels into you, nearly knocking you over. “sorry!” he yelps, outstretching his arm to break your fall and instead grabbing a fat fistful of your breast. he doesn’t seem to even notice, his hands large and warm and squeezing a little too tightly, seeping through the thin material of your blouse and bra and making a very unwelcome heat bloom between your legs.

“um, kai,” you stutter, trying your hardest to keep your voice level, “that’s… my boob.”

kai tears his hand away as if it were touching hot coals, and much to your dismay you find yourself immediately missing his touch. “i’m so sorry!” he repeats in a rush, stumbling over his words, his usually deep voice a couple octaves higher. you’re sure his handsome face is glowing crimson red, and distantly you wish the lights were on so you could see it. “i— i, i  didn’t mean to, i swear!”

“i know you didn’t,” you reassure him quickly, reaching out your own arms to help him squeeze himself by. with your help, he manages to slip his way past you, towards the general vicinity of the doorway, his feet knocking over things all the way there. you can hear him pressing buttons rapidly on the keypad, the device making no noise or beeping any lights— kai curses again and slams his fist against the wall, the loud thud echoing throughout the dark room.

“we’re stuck in here.” kai mutters in dismay.

“what do you mean we’re stuck in here?!”

“the door automatically locks itself when it closes and the keypad is the only way to unlock it… and it turned off along with the power. it’s alright though, the backup generator should turn on any minute now…”

the two of you stand around in silence for a long pregnant pause. the power does not turn back on.

“or not.” he gripes. “okay, this is fine, we’ll get out of here somehow— here, let me turn on my phone flashlight…”

kai rummages around in his pockets before pulling out what you assume is his phone. you anticipate seeing the little flashlight to finally illuminate the all-encompassing dark, but it never comes. “…and my phone’s dead. great. just great.”

“you really need to get better about charging that thing.” you quip sarcastically. “how many times have you asked to borrow my charger? now i only bring it because i know you’ll need it.”

“i know, i didn’t— wait, really? just for me?”

you don’t respond to his question, your cheeks flaring up from the confession you didn’t mean to let slide. “my phone should still have a charge.” you say, attempting to change the subject, “but i left it in my purse. i’m gonna try and grab it.”

carefully, you begin to shuffle your way towards the corner of the room, where you were at least mostly certain that you and kai had placed down your bags. kai follows you closely, his large hands balanced on your shoulders to keep him steady… a fine ideas at first, when you were making good headway, but you didn’t get very far at all.

you manage to only make it a few short steps before your kitten heel catches on something rolling around on the ground— kai must have knocked the contents of a few boxes over on his way over to you, little plastic bulbs that feel an awful lot like christmas ornaments, as ironic as it is. you trip and stumble, and you probably could have caught yourself easily if it wasn’t for kai’s large body falling with you. you both come crashing to the floor, your sharp gasp drowned out by kai’s loud shriek right in your ear; he squishes you against the cold linoleum floor, his chest pressed against your back, his hips flush against your ass. you try to wriggle free, but kai is just too heavy on top of you, motionless and oddly silent as he breathes hard against the back of your neck.

 “oh my god, kai, you big oaf, get off of me!” you whine, attempting in vain to push yourself up onto your hands and knees— your wiggle your hips against kai’s own, akin to a bucking hose trying to unseat it’s rider, and that’s when you feel it.

your pencil skirt has ridden up so that only your pantyhose and underwear were covering your ass, and you can feel every inch of kai’s hardening dick pressed up against you as if there were no clothes between you at all. the weight and curve of it, slotted perfectly between your asscheeks like it belonged there, the way it twitches violently in his slacks when you gasp.

“i’m sorry,” he whimpers, his head buried in your shoulder, his voice wobbly like he was about to cry, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—”

just then do you register his hands on your hips, touching you so intimately, steadfast in their movements down your ass and thighs despite shaking like a leaf. he’s never been this close to you before, his body so sculpted and masculine against you, his soft plump lips ghosting over the exposed skin of your neck, wafts of his musky cologne clouding your senses. you shouldn’t do this, you should remain professional… but you’ve wanted huening kai for months, since you first met him, and having him pressed against you so helpless and vulnerable has destroyed all your control and reason. all you could think about was that kai wanted you too, and you had the proof straining against you and begging to be freed.

you roll your hips back against him slowly, as if not to startle him— the broken moan that falls from those kissable lips is downright obscene, whiny and desperate, shooting hot sparks of pleasure down your body to your core.

“a-ah, d-did you, um. did you mean to d-do that?” he asks in a small voice, his cock growing even harder against you.

you can’t take it anymore— in kai’s dazed state you manage to pull yourself up from underneath him, spinning around on your knees to grab wildly in his direction. you manage to get your fist wrapped around his tie, and with a sharp tug kai’s lips come crashing down onto yours. his lips are soft and pillowy against your own, tasting a little sweet, like the tea with milk and honey he enjoys drinking while he works. his panting breath tickles your skin, his fingers coming up to card through your hair as you open your mouths and breathe each other in. your bodies press together heatedly, hands roaming everywhere you could reach, groping and pulling each other impossibly closer together. kai’s other hand slides down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the plush lightly between his fingers. swathed in all this darkness, it was easy to forget that you weren’t dreaming.

you’ve never kissed or been kissed like this before.

“does that answer your question?” you giggle when you part for air, panting hotly into each others mouths before kai descends upon you to recapture your lips himself.

this kiss is even more heated than the last, kai prying your lips apart to deepen the passion with teeth and tongue. you wish you could see, could admire the sharp tic of kai’s jaw as he kissed you, lose yourself in those beautiful brown eyes. bear some witness to something you were sure would never happen. you could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, blood rushing in your ears to drown out the storm as you both fumble with each other’s clothes. kai’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing harshly when you run your hand down his chest and belly to his belt buckle. it’s a struggle to unfasten in the dark, but you manage to roughly tear his fly open and fish his hot throbbing cock out of his boxers. you wrap your hand around it, so fat your fingers barely connect— kai lets out a strangled whine as you stroke up to thumb at the tip, thick globs of precum slicking up your hand.

“t-take it off,” kai grits out against your lips, his large hands fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, “please, wanna feel—”

an affirming hum is all he needs, impatiently pulling at the buttons— your blouse pops open with a loud ripping sound, and he pulls both your top and bra down just enough for your breasts to fall out. your nipples harden in the cold air, but they’re quickly warmed up by kai’s fingers. he pinches and tugs at the buds roughly, the sensation making you keen wantonly.

“kai! that shirt was expensive!” you whine, but the hand pumping his cock only strokes faster— you really couldn’t find it within yourself to care much about anything, and you wanted to make sure kai didn’t stop to apologize even more than he already has.

“couldn’t help it, i just love your tits,” kai groans, letting go of your nipples to grope and massage the fat mounds of your breasts. his grip gets tighter with every flick of your wrist, breath coming out in short airy pants. “fuck, you’re so sexy, it makes me g-go insane. running around in those tight tops and those short little skirts, i just want to— ah!— f-fuck you all the time—!”

“kai,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the searing heat growing between them.

“i wish i could see you right now,” he continues, and you jump at the sensation of a hot wet tongue against your nipple. “i could probably cum just from how hot you look— god, i’ve been wanting to do this for forever.”

his plump, spit-slick lips seal around your hard bud, his hands continuing to play with your chest as he sucks and nibbles. you cry out high in your throat, letting go of his twitching cock to crumple your fist in his shirt. your pussy aches to be touched, dripping so much slick you’re sure you’ve completely ruined your panties. kai’s fingers and mouth better than anything you’ve ever felt before, good enough to make you cum from just this alone, but you desperately, wildly, primally need more.

“touch me!” you beg him, pulling him impossibly closer, right where you need him most. “kai, please touch me!”

kai gives your nipple one last tug between his teeth before pulling off with a pop, leaving your breasts covered in his spit and erupting in goose flesh from the frigid air. slowly and carefully he crawls himself between your open legs, sliding his fingers underneath your bunched up skirt. he runs a fingertip down the gusset of your panties, just the ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make you keen in delight. “you’re so wet,” kai laments, sounding utterly debauched, rubbing between your weeping pussy lips over the lace, circling your clit until you mewl, “made a mess in your panties… did i really make you this wet? that’s so fucking hot…”

he relinquishes his finger, and you’re not sure what you were expecting next, but it definitely wasn’t for him to grab ahold of your pantyhose and underwear and tear them from your body in one powerful yank. the nylon and lace rip like paper, the ghastly sound ringing in your ears, and kai tosses the shredded fabric to the side before positioning himself to kneel between your thighs.

“i’ll do more than touch you if you’ll let me,” he whispers in your ear, running his hand up your inner thigh leaving behind a burning trail in it’s wake, “i wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please, can i? i’ll buy you new clothes, i’ll buy you whatever you want, just let me ruin you…”

“we don’t have a condom…” you breathe, but you widen your legs to give him more room anyway. usually that would be a deal-breaker for you, but you’ve already done more in this closet than you would have ever even dreamed of doing.

“i’ll pull out, i promise.” kai’s voice is far too soothing for your own good, those terrible, god-sent big hands grabbing ahold of the back of your knees to expose you even further. you can hardly think at all anymore, too focused on the throbbing need swirling deep in your pussy, and how good it would feel if you would take the risk and just let go.

“please…” is all you can manage to say, and with a delighted groan huening folds your legs up to rest on his shoulders and positions his weeping cock at your entrance. it feels so filthy, with your torn-up pantyhose still clinging to your legs and your heels hanging from your toes, and once again you wished desperately that you could see just how lewd of a sight the two of you were.

kai slides his cock up and down between your folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with your juices. his bulbous cockhead bumps deliciously against your clit before gliding back down to your entrance, pressing against the rim of your hole just enough to tease before letting up and doing it again. as hot as it is and as good as it feels, you can’t handle any teasing anymore, not when you’ve been on the edge and in need of release for this long.

“put it in,” you beg, and you can hardly recognize your own voice. you sound so needy, so pornographic— it would be embarrassing if you weren’t this far gone. “please, please, need you s’ bad, kai, need your cock—”

kai shushes you with an unexpectedly chaste kiss, sweet and gentle and nothing at all like the way he was thrusting himself inside of your tight wet heat like an animal. the stretch burns so good you nearly scream, his cock longer and fatter than any you’ve ever taken before. for a delirious moment you worry that he’ll tear you in half, that he won’t fit, your walls clenching down on him like a vice as he forces his way deeper and deeper, until his tip kisses your cervix and his balls slap wetly against your ass.

“s-so big,” you slur, clawing weakly at his chest, your mouth slack and your mind completely blank except for how impossibly full you feel.

“is it too much?” kai asks you nervously, back to his sweet anxious self for a split second. “i’m so sorry, i couldn’t stop myself, pussy’s sucking me in—”

“feels so goo-o-od!” you mewl dumbly, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together the longer kai is inside of you. “need more, hyuka, give it to me!”

the innocent nickname makes him moan, and just like you wanted and pleaded for he begins to fuck you in sincere earnest. his thrusts are fast and brutal, lit by a deep, primal fire you had no idea kai possessed. it knocks the wind out of you, overwhelmed in the best possible way, your mouth falling slack and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you moan loudly every time his cock spears your cervix.

“deep! so f-fucking deep!” you hiccup breathlessly, surrendering yourself completely to the onslaught of red-hot pleasure. you can feel him in your belly, right under your navel, your wet little pussy squelching obscenely with every movement of kai’s hips. he finds your sweet spot with shocking ease, angling his cock to drag against that spongey bundle of nerves and make you even wetter.

“yeah?” kai croons, thrusting himself inside of you impossibly harder, faster, “feels so good, huh? fuck, this pussy’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight— best cunt i’ve ever had, baby, feels better than i ever imagined… can’t let you go now, perfect girl all for me. this perfect pussy’s all mine, you hear, no one elses!”

he recaptures your pert nipple between his lips, suckling even rougher than before; your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, sensitive flesh jiggling in his face as he trails his teeth and tongue across the planes of your cleavage, leaving dusky lovebites in his wake. he slobbers over your tits like a hungry dog, his moans and whines muffled by your nipples he takes turns slurping them up into his mouth. the pangs of pleasure from your sore nipples combined with kai’s quickening pace and filthy words tug you closer and closer to the brink of insanity, the fiery hot tsunami building deep within your belly threatening to overflow and toss you into its euphoric depths.

“love you so much,” kai admits as he continues to babble nonsense, seemingly not noticing just what was coming out of his mouth, “been wanting you for so fucking long, needed you  so bad— my pretty girl, so beautiful, wanna see your face when you cum. you must look so sexy when you cum.”

your heart clenches along with your cunt.

there is nothing you can see, but there is plenty you can hear— kai’s hips clapping against your ass, his beautiful broken whimpering, the slick sounds of your pussy gushing around his cock. you open your mouth to speak, voice the mounting ecstasy that built steadily in your throbbing cunt, but you can’t seem to get out anything other than shrill, pathetic cries of pleasure. your mind was wiped completely blank, nothing but static behind your eyes, thoughts filled with nothing except the pressure in your core and how good it would feel if you let it consume you.

“gonna cum!” you wail, using up all your energy into making yourself speak— kai groans happily, his thrusts grow desperate and sloppy, speeding up to pound your sweet spot into oblivion.

“yes! cum with me, angel, come on, you can do it.” he coos, voice shaking as his body jolts and shudders above you. his hands come down to press hard on your engorged, sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles against the throbbing bud. “that’s it, make a mess, cum all over my cock!”

your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure as you pulsate and gush around him. you recognize distantly that you’re squirting, droplets of viscous liquid splashing all over your tummy and thighs, drenching huening as well. your release triggers his own climax, and he wrenches out his cock from your quivering pussy just milliseconds before ropes and ropes of thick, sticky cum splatters hot and wet all over your heaving tits.

“holy fuck,” kai whimpers, unable to catch his breath, “that was the best sex i’ve ever had.”

you just giggle weakly, trying to calm down your racing heart yourself; the two of you lay against each other in silence for a moment basking in the afterglow while you both come down from your highs. your orgasm sucked all the life force out of you, it seemed, leaving you weak and exhausted as you lay boneless on the cold storage closet floor.

and just like that, the lights turn back on. the heating system starts back up again. you’re nearly blinded after spending so long in the dark, squinting your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

kai is staring right back at you.

his dark hair is wild and sticking out in all directions, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks dusted pink. his tie is half-undone and his work shirt is terribly wrinkled, drenched in what you can only assume to be your juices. his softening cock lies against his thigh, poking out from his unzipped fly, slacks just as damp and ruined as his shirt was. his chest heaves with the force of his breaths, no doubt taking in your own appearance himself. you look down just enough to see your torn clothes, your cumstained breasts and wet thighs, your smart professional outfit looking like it was ravaged by some sort of rabid animal.

“you look beautiful.” kai whispers in rapture, gazing down at you with soft melted chocolate eyes.

“um.” you respond smartly, cheeks burning, averting your eyes to check the closet door— the keypad’s light blinks cheerfully at you, as if it had never been turned off in the first place. “do you want to get out of here?”

kai smiles, that signature smile that gives you even more butterflies now than it did before. “do you wanna watch a christmas movie at my place?”

tomorrow x together taglist ; @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi , @numxra , @soobinsbuns , @taegimood , @jeniihss, @soobabby , @hhoneylix , @beargyuuzz @fullbodyblankets , @xenkimmie , @ttaesoob , @shinyngirl , @lxnoluvr , @blxxsss , @ode2soob , @beom-gyubears, @ashiixari , @lurking-coconut , @horanghaelovr , @yyeonzi , @paegesoobin , @nightlyhyuka, @urstylezx , @f4iryfever , @givethnofucketh , @allisonistrashh, @katsukis1wife , @luvtyunn , @tyunzonlystar, @inkigayocamman , @hyunj00 , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @strawberryshoujosundae , @enigmaticaphrodite , @txtistheloml , @jellymochii, @welostthesummer111, @skzooluvr

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©𝚖𝚒𝚞-𝚙𝚘𝚠.𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐。𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: a thursday night outing

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: arcane

rating: pg

genre: romance

pairing: viktor x reader

summary: heading home to get ready for a fun dinner with mel, you find viktor who is blindsided by your impending absence, even though you told him like 3 times that week.

based off this Shorts skit loosely: https://youtube.com/shorts/yRAdhnj2oOc?si=uLdR4bdqTWNlgGIy

“darling?” i ask as i walk into the apartment viktor and i share. “are you home?” my voice echoes through the apartment, as if on auto pilot my hands work the scarf from my neck and place it on the stand near the door, along with my coat. i blink a few times as i slip off my shoes hearing no noise coming from the apartment. viktor should have been home by now and normally would be writing in his journal or making a cup of tea. sighing as my feet guided me to our room, a bit disappointed as i wanted to say hi to him before going out to dinner with mel.

i turn the corner into our room and go to the dresser, as i open the drawer for a change of clothes i don’t hear but more so feel a presence behind me, my body locking as if i was a deer in a bright light. i feel them getting closer and quickly my rational mind recognizes this must be viktor. i have just a few seconds to decide if his little plan was going to pan out the way he thought it would. i gently smiled and continued to grab clothes feeling his arms wrap around me. i hear his sigh and chuckle.

“i can never sneak up on you.” he says, pouting.

“i felt you behind me when you were near the bed, my love.” i smile and roll my eyes as i turn in his arms to finally look at him.

“how was your day?” the words come out as routine but i appreciate them nonetheless.

“it was good. i was just looking forward to tonight.” his brows furrow as i explain.

“tonight….?”

“yes, tonight! don’t tell me you forgot. i’m going to dinner with mel tonight. a little girls night, uninterrupted by council meetings or crazy inventors changing the world. just a night where we can have good food and talk about skincare.” a laugh falls from my lips as he looks mildly affronted and also completely disinterested.

“so, you are going to need to do whatever you normally do when i’m gone.” i laugh seeing the look on his face. “viktor, are you okay?”

“just… i forgot that was tonight so i am feeling a little… ehhh, blindsided, if I’m honest.” i nod as he looks like he’s going through five stages of grief realizing i wouldn’t be at home tonight.

“do you need me to give you some space or do you want a hug?” i ask as i pull back a bit, my hands resting on his forearms. his face falls into partial annoyance and disbelief.

“don’t “gentle parent” me.” i laugh as he still looks pouty and then looks at me. “a hug would be nice.” and as i lean in my heart feels too big for my chest as my arms wrap around him and i hold him close. my head buried into the crook of his neck and his in mine. i make sure that he moves to separate first, his grin content as he looks at me and then his eyes widen as he sees tears in my eyes.

“darling, what’s wrong?” his voice somewhat panicked.

“nothing. nothing.” i smile as a tear runs down my face and i hold his hand resting on my cheek. “i love you so much, that sometimes the… strength of my emotions feels like my body is incapable to hold onto a love this strong. a love this big. it feels like it is so much, but i delight in it because that love is for you.” viktor’s eyes widen and his face goes from worried to relaxed to a gentle smile.

“you know, i wouldn’t have believed that if you had told me that a year ago.” his hands grip my hips bringing me closer.

“i know. how can you accept love when it’s never been given to you freely?” i smile. “but i’m here now. jayce is here. we have so much love to give you that all you have to do is just stand there and accept it.” i kiss his cheek as he looks up, knowing that he was trying to make sure i didn’t see his eyes well up with tears.

“how about while i go to dinner, you and jayce hang out? and then when i get back, you and i can cuddle in bed and i’ll pick up reading that book we were almost finished with last week.” i ask, not wanting him to be alone.

“i can be alone, my love.” he levels me with a glance and i chuckle, it’s like he can read my thoughts.

“you can be, but do you want to be?” i ask.

“i’d like to read and wait for you to come home… alone. jayce would not shut up in the lab today so quiet would be much appreciated.” i chuckled at his exasperated eye roll.

“okay. okay.” i say as i turn to grab a last few garments before i get ready to shower. i hear him hum behind me and then rewrap his arms around my waist.

“you should definitely wear the black lace set.” he murmurs and kisses my neck.

“just for you.” i pull out the set and place it with the rest of my clothes. “do you mind keeping me company in the shower?” i ask, him knowing it’s not just me asking if he minded, i knew he didn’t. it was asking if he could, if he felt up to it and wanted to.

“i’d love to.” i smile at him as i took his hand in my left and grabbed my clothes in my right and we headed off to the bathroom.

“besides…. since i felt so blindsided about your outing tonight, seeing you naked will definitely help me get over it.”

“viktor!”

[hypnzo]

Hii! Can you do how the 7 (Percy,Annabeth, Frank, hazel, Leo, Jason, and piper) would react to you crying/ feeling down?

Thank you🫶🫶

Comfortable warmth of your hands and voice ; “I'm here.”

Warning!! : The characters may not exactly react accurately like this, there might be possible mischaracterization.

Percy Jackson would immediately notice that something was up with you. Your face was flushed, your eyes looked a bit red and he swore his mind wasn't playing tricks on him when he saw those dried tear marks on your face.

He'd probably go insane but he bottled it up, letting it simmer below the surface while he fixated his attention on you, comforting you, and trying to ask you what happened.

He'd be there for you, holding your hand in his while his thumb moves along your knuckle which gave you a soothing and grounding comfort to lean on, while also giving you with the knowledge that he was right there and doesn't plan on going anywhere anytime soon.

“Hey, what happened? Are you hurt? You were crying, weren't you? Talk to me, angel.”

Annabeth Chase would notice it immediately, feeling skeptical whenever you'd tell her that you were fine and it was just nothing. She didn't really believe you especially when she heard sniffling for the past few minutes—it didn't really help much when she sees your face looking a bit red.

She'd be worried and if anyone had made you feel this way, she was not going to let it slide. Though, she'd be focused on keeping you calm and feeling comforted first before you guys would get to that topic. If it was a sensitive thing for you to talk about in the moment of vulnerability, she'd give you the time to calm down first while she offers comfort through her action and words.

“Something's wrong, I know it. What happened? Something is clearly making you upset and I'm not about to just let that slide.”

Frank Zhang would drop everything he's doing when he senses any hints of you feeling down. You've been unusually quiet—you looked dull, out of energy, your eyes look like they've been so exhausted and you refused to keep eye contact with him. It confused him but he was alarmed of what was happening. He'd thread carefully with caution in order not to trigger you about anything while he holds you close, ensuring that you'd get the comfort that you are needing.

He'd wait for you to tell him what exactly was making you feel so down. He wanted to be there for you at your lowest and he gently insisted that you didn't need to tell him anything at the moment if you feel like it's too much for you to do. He'd stay there with you, pressing a kiss on your temple, and holding you in his arms.

“Is something bothering you? You've been awfully quiet lately. I'll be here for you, okay?”

Hazel Levesque would notice you feeling under the weather when you acted a little off. Her hugs would be sweet and grounding. She didn't push it and waited until you'd say something to her. But when she witnessed you cry, seeing tears fall out of your eyes, she immediately ran to your side, tucking your hair behind your ears while she listened and waited as you cried your eyes out.

She'd give you a hug, offering words of comfort, holding your hand, anything you'd feel comfortable for her to do. It's a grounding feeling that lets you know you didn't have to face it all alone because she'd be there with you, holding your hand in hers.

“Are you okay? I can tell something is bothering you.. Do you want to talk about it?”

Leo Valdez would take a bit of a minute to realize, but it doesn't mean his skepticism wasn't bubbling inside. You told him you just had a cold and you were still recovering from it, hiding away your teary-eye while you aniffled.

He didn't want to push it out of you, but his concern was gnawing at him. He went to you, trying to cheer you up, to get a smile out of you. He patted your shoulder with a grin but concern flooded his eyes.

He'd be there for you, trying to listen, cracking up jokes whenever he thinks the mood is ready for it, but he's quick to shut it down if you told him to. He stayed right there while you ranted your heart out.

“Alright, something is clearly bothering you. What's up? Oh, right, the sky! ...Okay, that was a bad joke. Sorry. But really, what's wrong?”

Jason Grace tends to you delicately, trying not to say anything that might trigger your vulnerability. He threads carefully, choosing the right words he has in mind to offer the comfort you need. He doesn't want to make it worse than it already is and so he decided to just sit there and listen to you cry, a bit unsure on what to do.

But soon enough, he lets you bawl your eyes out on his shoulder. You could feel the warmth of his palms and his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

“Just let it all out. ...I'm here if you need someone, okay? Just.. let out everything you're feeling, I don't plan on going anywhere.”

Piper McLean understands it almost immediately. She could sense that something was bothering you. You were trying to brush it off as nothing which only lead to unusual quietness coming from you. It was the kind of quietness that Piper heard—the kind of sound that Piper immediately went to.

She'd plop herself down beside you and just soaking in the silence with you. If you asked her why she was there, she wouldn't respond at first, holding your hand as if to bring you back to reality, to let you know that you weren't exactly alone in that sorrowful silence,

Because she's willing to go there with you, to bathe in it for as long as you needed if it meant letting you know that someone was there for you and it would be her.

“No reason. I can tell something is bothering you. You don't need to tell me about it if you don't feel like it. But.. If you need an ear or just a presence to be there, I'm here.”

[lacehartz]

big bro! rafe who only ever eats u out thru ur underwear to begin with because it makes him feel less like a sick freak… until he can’t help himself anymore and is pulling them aside <33

i found the perfect p!link to go along with this !!! not exactly what you asked for but i feel like this fits a bit better <33 cw in tags.

he’d so be the type to do it when you’re sleeping too, because in his head that’s the only way he can excuse it </3 the first time he breaks into your room, he’d told himself it was just to take a pair of panties — something to hold him over. but when he saw you laying there, legs spread and blanket half wrapped around you, he knew he was thinking with his dick. he’d gotten down on his knees at the edge of your bed, just staring at something no brother should ever be eye to eye with. he was entranced, bewitched, and it wasn’t long before he was surging forward, pressing his nose against your core. and god did you smell divine. he’d give up all the lines in the world if it meant he got to inhale and sniff at your pussy for the rest of his life. but you’d twisted in his sleep, let out a little sound and it scared him. he didn’t want you waking up, didn’t want to see the look of disgust and fear, so he’d left. crawled out of your room the same way he’d come in, like a coward.

since that moment, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. if you smelt that good, then surely .. surely you tasted good too, right? you’d ruined him completely, he couldn’t even fuck anyone else without his head blaring out a loud and annoying “wrongwrongwrong.” rafe realises he’s way too far gone when he’s begging barry for something that’ll keep you quiet, something that’ll lock you away in dreamland while he acts on his sick desires. he’s grateful that barry doesn’t care or raises any questions about what he’s planning to do with the roofie pills.

rafe had slipped one into the glass of water on your nightstand while you were at dinner, waiting quietly in his room until he saw the light go out from under your door. his chest aches painfully as he sneaks in once again, the movements now familiar with how often he’d been doing it. and there you were in all your glory; white cotton panties and a small tank top, mouth open and nipples piercing through your shirt. he barely reminds himself to check whether you’d actually drunk the water before he’s between your legs again, this time with resolve. rafe closes his eyes, hoping that it’d make it better. he could pretend you were someone else, someone who wasn’t his little sister. his pink tongue peeks out of his salivating mouth, hesitating just for a moment, and then he’s flat against your centre.

he moans. he moans loud and unabashedly, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he flicks and licks and nibbles at your perfect cunt over your panties. you taste like coke and sugar and he knows this won’t be enough. he’d need more. he was a greedy, disgusting man and here he was, brought to his knees in bliss, because of you.

rafe can’t think anymore. it’s like he’s on autopilot, lapping at you like a starved dog. your panties grow translucent quickly, a mix of his saliva and your own unwanted arousal. he loves how pliant you are. loves how he can spread your thighs and slurp as hard as he wants at your clit, knowing you won’t wake up, that you can’t. rafe’s cock strains against the fabric of his briefs, hard and swollen and leaking. he wants nothing more than to rut against you, against your drooly pussy. he wants to be enveloped by your warmth. but the guilt starts crawling up his spine again, shooting sparks and crackling angrily. he feels like throwing up, as if his brain has finally realised what he was doing.

he stumbles up, chin wet with his own drool and he flees. he runs back to his room, dizzy and lost and still so fucking hard. rafe can’t stop himself. he has to do it. he’s reaching into his briefs, choking his dick in his fist, doesn’t even give himself the satisfaction of building it up. three strokes and he’s cumming all over his hand, thick globs of cum sticking to the same fingers he’d just used to spread open your legs.

despite the shame and horror and guilt flowing through him in a rare moment of post-nut clarity, he knows himself. rafe knew he’d be back in your room. he knew he’d be on his knees again and he knew tasting you through your panties wouldn’t work for long. he just hoped the guilt got easier to deal with.

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) + part 6

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Smut. Mourning. More smut. Forbidden romance. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... divider by saradika-graphics PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

And I, I come here to be what you need, so you can fly, so you can fly -Detune, Kaleida

PART 6.

You always thought the boxy behemoth of John and Helen’s house looked more like a museum than a home. The dramatic lighting in the landscaping out front reinforces this impression, though gliding into the garage where the Mustang gives one last dying rumble before John kills the ignition maybe contradicts this notion. 

You have the startling realization that you have never been here, without Helen.

You see no traces of her in the garage. Her Lexus is gone. A motorcycle is parked where her SUV used to be. You wonder if John cleaned out her other belongings inside. It’s none of your business, how he decided to handle the remnants of her things, but the thought makes your heart ache in your chest all the same. 

“Ready?” he asks quietly, perhaps sensing your inner turmoil as you sit dead still in the passenger seat for too long, paralyzed in your thoughts of your sister. 

Not sure if it’s true, you nod anyway, making to extricate yourself from the low-slung sports car. John removes your duffel from the trunk, slinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder. You’d thought it heavy, but he handles it like you’d packed nothing but a bag of feathers, and it’s possible you admire the view of his powerful form from behind as you follow him inside. 

A part of you still can’t believe you are doing this. 

Now that your thoughts are only partially clouded by lust, your inner voice of judgement is still yet undecided as to how much loathing you deserve for this escapade. The garage leads into a mudroom, then the kitchen. John tosses his keys into a wooden bowl and flips a light. The open plan of the house gives you a clear view across the dining area and the recessed living room, and something in your heart unclenches as you realize he has not changed a thing. 

All of Helen’s carefully curated curios and objet d’art remain in place, and it’s almost as though she’s still there, in a way. Your eyes fill with tears, and desperately you try to blink them away before John notices you’re having a mini-crisis over the sight of Helen’s coffee table books on modern architecture. 

You are saved by the sound of claws clicking on the tile floor. A handsome blue pitbull trots up to you, immediately leaning on your legs after a perfunctory sniff. “Oh. Who’s this?” you ask, leaning over to pet the friendly fellow. 

“That’s Dog,” John answers with the chagrined smile of a man who knows your next thought will be something along the lines of “You couldn’t be bothered to actually name your dog?”

In an attempt to be original, you let it go. “What a sweetie.” 

You wonder what changed Helen’s mind from her original plan. “I thought she was getting you a beagle for some reason,” you remark quietly as Dog licks your chin. You scratch him behind his ears and down his back, smiling as he wiggles blissfully under your longish nails. 

John sighs heavily in response. “Yeah.” You sense there’s a whole explanation behind that one word, and maybe you’d talked a tough game back in your apartment, but it’s late, and you’re tired, and you find you don’t have the mettle to pry any more explanations out of this man tonight. 

Especially not ones that seem like they’re going to hurt him.

You get the sense that John has endured a lot in his lifetime. The last thing you want is to cause him more pain. 

He weighs you with those soulful eyes, and you can’t help but feel like he’s reading a little too much between your lines. “I…can prepare the guest room for you, if you prefer?” 

You wonder if he senses your unease in this new and tricky situation–or if he’s the one changing his mind. 

“I’m not…sleeping with you?” you ask, trying and failing to hide your own disappointment at hearing this proffered out. 

“Only if you want to.” 

You find the last thing you want tonight, is to toss and turn with your thoughts of Helen, alone. 

You can still see the hint of lace of your panties peeking out from his breast pocket, and a part of you wishes he would just sling you over his shoulder and take you to bed. 

And take all the blame, you chide yourself. 

No. If you’re digging this hole…you’re doing it together. 

Maybe it’s not entirely fair, the way you close the space between you slowly, your heels clicking on the tile. “What do you want, John?” you ask gently, and you don’t mean to purr it so sweetly, but it just comes out of you when you’re with him. And maybe it’s also not fair, when your hands find his trim torso, sliding under the warmth of his suit jacket. You feel he is strung taut as tightrope beneath his fine clothes; yet the moment you touch him something seems to let go.  

His eyes slide closed, and he does not answer you with words, ducking to press his lips to yours. Whatever feelings of guilt had been stewing beneath your skin utterly evaporate, immolated by the fire this small gesture ignites within you again.

“Me too,” you admit against his pillow-soft lips, and you think his huff of self-deprecating laughter is nine tenths relief. 

“Come on.” He nuzzles your nose with his before turning to lead you upstairs. 

You realize you’ve been in his bedroom before–but again, only with Helen, as she shared some new pair of shoes or designer dress she’d bought, putting on a fashion show for you in the walk-in closet, usually before foisting “hand-me-downs” she'd never actually worn (and clearly bought with your taste in mind) upon you. 

It certainly feels different now, the neatly made bed glowing in the moonlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows. You know that they’re mirrored on the outside, but you still wonder how one goes about not feeling like they live in a fishbowl. You suppose you are unaccustomed to living in a house without close neighbors. It’s a luxury you could never afford in the city. 

John turns on a lamp, and sets your bag gingerly by the bed. “I’ll make room for you in the closet.” 

You’d barely packed enough to require it, but still you nod, touched by the thought because you never would have presumed to ask. “Tomorrow,” you say quietly, your hands finding their way under his jacket again, pushing it from his shoulders. You drape it carefully over the back of a nearby chair, certain it cost more than your rent.

He watches you with those soulful dark eyes, and you feel yourself melting all over again. He seems to enjoy your hands on his body as you slowly work on undressing him, loosening the knot of his tie, sliding the patterned silk from under his collar. You move on to his shining white gold cufflinks. “Pretty,” you compliment, working the toggles carefully. 

He hesitates a moment before admitting, “They were a gift.”

“I know. I helped Helen pick them out from Dunhill.”

He looks at you from beneath his lashes, the flash of sorrow in his dark eyes fathomless as the sea at night. He still hurts so much, and you understand. You feel it too.

“It’s ok,” you say, speaking to yourself as much as him. “We should say her name. We shouldn’t skirt around it. I want to remember her.” You don’t want her name to be taboo between you, even if what you are doing is more than a little fucked up. 

He closes his eyes, dipping his head in agreement. “Thank you.” You get the feeling he means for more than just helping your sister pick out an anniversary gift for him. You just nod, and he presses his forehead to yours. You stand like that for a long while, two people who are broken but maybe, just maybe, have found a bit of light in each other against the crushing gloom.

You fancy that you feel the exact moment, when John makes up his mind for certain about you. He gathers you to him with a new edge of desperation, grips your curves just this side of too hard, like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on to you. His mouth slants over yours, and you take the onslaught of his passion gladly, holding him to you with arms around his neck as he devours you. The fine zipper down your spine proves no obstacle for his clever hands; your dress slides down your body, pooling around your ankles. 

The hunger in his expression as he looks down at you in just your strapless bra makes your legs weak–it doesn’t matter, because he holds you, and he’s not letting you go. His voice comes rough with the edge of desire: “Y/n…I know I don’t deserve you. But God do I want you.” He doesn't give you much of a chance to answer, manhandling you onto the bed like you weigh nothing, which isn’t the case at all.

You would have told him that you want him too, more than you've ever wanted anyone, but his mouth is on yours and you're happy to kiss him instead. His lean body presses you down deliciously into the soft mattress; you open eagerly, twining your legs with his, holding him to you. He's still completely clothed, and you make an attempt to undo some buttons, craving his bare skin on yours like air to breathe. The promise of his hard groin against yours makes your vision spin. 

“I’m sorry,” he growls, seemingly at your breasts as he moves down your body, his hot mouth searing trails of fire down your skin. Your brain function is not at its best at the moment–you’re not sure what he’s talking about at all, and he doesn’t expand on his point until his teeth are grazing the curve of your hip. 

“I haven’t…been with anyone…since Helen,” he explains, his voice rough with want. “I might be…a little rusty.”

You have to bite down on a laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s so endearing you could scream, and if this is John Wick when he feels like he’s not on his game…you don’t think you can handle this man at his best. 

“I don’t think you have to worry,” you sigh as he kisses the inside of your thigh, moaning as his soft lips travel higher. It’s almost embarrassing how wet he finds you, when he slips the tip of his thumb just past your weeping hole. The sound he makes is more animal than man as he falls to his knees at the edge of the bed, guiding your legs over his broad shoulders, and when his tongue touches your clit you see God. You cannot sit still but he holds you down with one big hand spanned across your belly, two of his fingers sliding inside you as he laves at your aching slit. 

“John,” you pant, your hands fisted in the bedspread out of desperation for something to hold on to, your back arched like a bow as he gives you this blissful pleasure between your thighs. “Please…” You can hardly think past his mouth upon you, your brain gone completely offline while in this man’s skillful hands. “Please, I want you inside me?” 

He growls against you, making your toes curl. You’re not sure if he’s arguing with you, or himself, but in the end he withdraws, wiping his mouth on the bedspread before standing between your legs. He towers over you from this vantage, and in a blissful stupor you watch him undo the buttons of his shirt with deft fingers. You find yourself holding your breath as he reaches the last one; a whine escapes you as he pauses in the unveiling. 

“Y/n…I have to warn you…I have scars.”

 He seems self-conscious about this, or maybe afraid of how you might react. You sit up, giving him your full attention.

“It’s ok.”

“I don’t…want to scare you.” 

You touch his hands on his shirt halves lightly; it’s possible you're trembling. “I watched you take out three guys tonight and stab one of them in the leg…and I’m still here.”  

He lets out a long, shaking sigh, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“I’m kind of figuring out that you’re a dangerous man. But I don’t feel like you would ever hurt me. Am I wrong?” 

“No,” he answers immediately. 

“Ok. Then take off your shirt, please,” you say with a hint of insouciance you hope will break his hesitance, your lips curving in a smirk. You unclip your bra in a gesture of solidarity, tossing it to the foot of the bed. 

He looks down at your bare form with a tenderness in his eyes that warms you all over. Are you allowed to look at each other like that yet? Like you are something precious to behold? There are unofficial rules against this, but you feel yourself doing exactly the same. You feel yourself falling, hard, and you don't have the sense tonight to catch yourself before you hit rock bottom. 

“Cheeky girl,” he chides you gently, and you can see your ploy succeeded in nudging him out of his cycle of self doubt, at least for now. 

“You want me to be quiet, John?” you tease him further, reaching for his belt. “Give me something to put in my mouth.”

He makes a sound low in his throat that makes you think of predatory animals that stalk the deep dark forest at night. For a moment you get an inkling of the beast that lurks beneath this man's skin as he pushes you back down on the bed with a hand that engulfs the base of your throat, his gaze sharpening upon you in a way that sends a wave of gooseflesh rolling across your skin, your nipples tightening painfully. He kisses you, hard, and once more you forget everything due to this man's mouth upon you. 

Through half closed lids you watch him shrug out of his shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the chair. He was not joking about the scars; your eyes sweep over his torso, your lips parted with awe, your thighs pressed in an unconscious effort to relieve some of the exquisite ache inspired by seeing him like this, a god of war finally bared before you. 

You inventory the evidence of past altercations. Cuts large and small, and puckered round rosettes of flesh you can only assume must have been bullet wounds. This man has endured so much, and your heart aches for him, even as you know he must have given just as good as he got. 

You fixate on a long, thick scar that leads down the center of his abdomen, disappearing into his waistband; the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

He's beautiful, scars and all. Maybe more so, because of them. This man has been to hell and back– and now he's chosen to be here, in this precious moment, with you. Your fingertips itch to reach for him, to trace his contours and hollows and the evidence written on his skin that he's cheated death more than once. But he seemed to want you where he put you, and so you wait, trembling inside like a blossom waiting for the kiss of the dawn to open.

You watch as he divests himself of the gun again, tucking it into the drawer of the nightstand. You see him eyeing the lamp, considering plunging the room into darkness again, and you click your tongue in warning. “You're not shy, are you John?”

He narrows his eyes at you, though he smiles like he enjoys your teasing. “You’re not going to let me get away with anything, are you?”

“I think you're beautiful, and I want to see you while you fuck me.” Again, there's a flash of that predatory look behind his eyes, a leviathan surfaced from the depths, there and gone. It’s possible that you squirm a little, when he fixes you with that sharp black gaze, and you don't notice for a good long moment when he's finally taken off his pants, because you can't stop looking at his eyes. 

“I think you’re beautiful too,” he tells you, and finally he is crawling towards you, and you can run your hands over the expanses of his powerful physique. The curves of his biceps and the plane of his chest. The ladder of his ribs and his trim waist, and the velvety hard length of his manhood filling your hand. He groans into the bend of your neck as you stroke him, guiding him where you need him most between your legs.

“I want you so much, John. I need you.”

He pulls back to look at you with the expression of a drowning man. You think you’re beginning to understand him better. That the thing he wants most deep down is to be wanted, and that maybe it surprises him, that you do. It breaks your heart a little, that he’s so taken aback by that, like he can’t quite allow himself to believe it. 

He’d said he hadn’t had a happy life before Helen. You wonder what exactly that entailed. All this flashes through your mind in a millisecond before you guide him to your entrance, teasing yourself with his tip slicked delectably with your own juices. You should take a moment to grab a condom, new partner and all, but you’re on birth control, and you simply do not have the willpower to leave his arms.

He lowers himself so that he is pressing you down into the soft mattress with his body and his mouth on yours. He rolls his hips, his thick cock gliding against your folds torturously. You throw your head back, keening with need, the muscles of your pussy cramped so tightly with desire that it hurts. “Please? I’m so empty without you.”

Maybe he senses the truth in your plea. It is the thing that breaks him, unable to tease you anymore. You groan as his thick head pushes past your entrance, just a taste but god it feels like heaven. He buries his face in your neck as he thrusts, little by little until he is fully sheathed inside you. 

“So fucking good,” he groans into your hair, and you hold him against you, your nails digging into his back as you hook your leg on his hip, pulling him deeper. “My good girl, taking me so well.” He rocks against you, rubbing your clit with his pubic bone as he fills you better than anyone ever has, and you are already on the edge of climax, your pussy fluttering around his length. You squeeze him inside you, winning a moan that feels like you've won a prize.

He fills you like he was made for you, and you are lost. Lost in the sensation of him inside you, engulfing you–you’ve never felt so claimed, nor, you reckon, have you ever submitted to a man so gladly. 

“You going to cum for me, y/n?” With his thumb on your clit as he thrusts, hitting that perfect spot inside you, it feels more like a demand than a request, or maybe just a sure prediction. 

“Yes. Fuck. John…” 

You lose the faculty for higher language as your second orgasm of the night crashes through you, ecstasy ripping up your spine like a tidal wave. Maybe because it’s been a while like he said, or just maybe because he’s that into you, John loses it too as he feels the clench of your greedy little cunt milking him, thrusting deep inside you as he fills you with the hot flood of his release. 

Maybe it should scare you, that you’ve never connected so perfectly with another man–but all you can manage in this moment is to hold him to you like you have no intention of ever letting him go. It feels like a long time before he rises from what the French call the little death, and how true it is. How is it possible to feel so exhausted, yet born anew? 

Words seem to escape him as much as you; instead he kisses you, a long and languorous lock of lips that curls your toes all over again, your pussy clenching in answer around his still semi-hard manhood inside you. It wins you another groan that makes you chuckle against his lips. 

The first thing he says to you after this complete mutual ruin is: “Imp,” and all you can do in answer is grin against his mouth triumphantly.

He’s not wrong. 

The two of you barely manage to clean yourselves up before you are snuggling down into the covers together, falling into a deep sleep. Maybe it’s foolish of you, but tangled up tightly in John Wick’s strong arms–you feel as though nothing can hurt you. 

[ladykailitha]

Hoe! Hoe! Hoe! Naughty Night!

Hello and welcome to my Christmas AUvent Calendar! Every day from now until the 24th I will be posting a ficlet that is 500-1500 from an AU I've done over the years.

All stories will be marked with the tag #12 aus of christmas so you can follow along as I will only be tagging my permanent list for this (it would get too confusing otherwise).

The next one on our list is: Stripper verse. You can read the story here. All links will be to the first chapter, but the chapter itself will have links to the rest of the story.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8

~

Eddie was positively gleeful. Ever since Steve joined the Hellfire Exotic Club, his whole life had changed. In addition to having Steve as the best boyfriend he’s ever had, he got three new dancers who were amazing, he got to design the club the way he always wanted it, and then there were the themed nights.

It all started with Fairy Tail night which was a rousing (eyebrow wagging) success. So Chrissy and he got down and started planning out other themed nights. Halloween Killer Night was a personal favorite.

Which brought him to tonight.

Hoe! Hoe! Hoe! Naughty or Nice Night. It was going to be a blast. The premise was someone accidentally writing to Satan their very naughty gift wish list and Satan deciding to Nightmare Before Christmas it up.

Brian was going to be their Santa Claus turned Greed when Satan temps him with all the finer things that Santa misses out on all year making presents for children. Scott was going to play the naughty list maker and he was going to dance with all the Deadly Sins as they check off things off his list.

It was going to be so hot.

Steve’s biggest worry was whether or not people were going to be happy to see Eddie’s Lucifer take a backseat this time as you really can’t accidentally write to Lucifer the way you could with Satan.

But Eddie had no doubts that since it was only for the one show very few people were going to have a problem with Steve taking center stage. After all that’s what he did every Sunday anyway.

“All right, you win!” Steve said after Eddie’s very impassioned speech about it. “I’ll go seduce the entire Deadly Sins. If that’s what you want.”

Eddie pounced on him and kissed him dirty. Once he was sure Steve was thoroughly wrecked, he got off and grinned. “You can slut around on stage all you want, Stevie, but I’m the only one who can do that.”

Steve propped himself on his elbows. “Yeah, yeah. Now get back up here and finish me off, you menace!”

Eddie cackled and dove right back in to do just that.

~

They were on their last dance and Eddie was absolutely covered in sweet. All his dancers were. They had worked hard tonight and had earned every bit of their Christmas bonuses just tonight, never mind the rest of the year.

Steve straddled Brian’s lap and gave the once Santa a lap dance, bumping and grinding against him. Brian’s hands were all over Steve’s oiled up form. And just as Santa grabbed Satan to take him as his own, Mrs. Claus burst on to the scene. She fainted and the other demons rushed her, pulling off her clothes. Astrid who danced as Astaroth rose up, her hair in disarray, her body naked.

The other demons danced up to her leading her away from where Santa and Satan where making out on Santa’s throne and into the arms of Scott’s wisher. Then the two danced as she fell in further into lust.

Then Eddie’s Lucifer walked out and threw out his hands. Everyone froze as if captured by Lucifer’s spell. Then yanked as if they were all on strings attached to his hands. All the dancers fell to the floor at his feet, even Santa, Mrs. Claus, and Scott.

“Someone’s been naughty, my little demons,” Lucifer said with a grin. “You need to put Santee Claus back so that he can deliver presents to all the kids of the world. Good and bad.”

Brian and Astrid stood up and walked up to Lucifer. Lucifer put his fingers under their chins. “You two are always welcome to come back for next year, but when I say you can.” He pushed them away. “Now run along.”

Both Astrid and Brian looked at each other and then gathered their clothes and ran off stage in different directions. Then he pulled Steve and Scott to him. “You two caused a lot a of mischief tonight and you know how I love mischief. So I’ll grant you each a Christmas wish.”

Scott wished to be a demon, which was granted, the clothes that he had worn all night, being torn off to reveal his nightly demon costume.

Steve looked up at Eddie and cocked his head to side. “I’m the demon of Envy, Lucy. You know what I want. Everything you have, I want it. All of it!”

Eddie pulled Steve’s Satan in close until they were practically fused to each other. “Oh my little Deadly Sin. You want everything and will always crave more and more. There is nothing in the world that would satisfy you. Nothing but me.”

Then pulled Steve in for searing kiss and the crowd went wild. Eddie ripped off the last part of Steve’s costume that he was still wearing which was the red leather thong and threw it at the audience.

“Because I all I want for Christmas,” Lucifer purred, leaning Satan back to touch his chest, “is you.”

He sealed that promise with a searing kiss.

~

Day 10 Day 11

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[captain-hawks]

hiii Dee!! for your holiday drabbles, maaayybeeee accidentally standing under mistletoe with Meian? 🤭

no questions asked 🎀 meian shugo x f!reader

Spending Christmas Eve with your cheating ex-fiancé is no longer an option, so a party at Atsumu's will just have to do.

1.3k — msby manager!reader, angst and fluff

It’s a little embarrassing—thinking about how you should be out for dinner with your fiancé and his parents right now. 

How you should be planning a wedding that’ll take place in the new year. 

How, instead, you’re standing in the middle of Miya Atsumu’s apartment wearing the same red dress you picked out for a very different occasion, ring finger now entirely devoid of a weight you were once familiar with for the past five months.

While the Black Jackals tried not to pry into the mortifying details of your breakup when you showed up for practice uncharacteristically late one morning two weeks ago with eyes ringed red after a sleepless night, Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu were all wholly insistent that their team manager couldn’t spend Christmas Eve alone. 

(They’d let Coach Foster off easy when he politely declined the invite to tonight’s party, but you? Not so much.)

(Bokuto’s known you since your Fukurodani days, after all, since you were a year ahead of him on the girl’s volleyball team.)

Which now finds you here, leaning against the doorway that separates the living room from the kitchen, fingers curled loosely around the sweaty neck of a bottle of beer. 

“I never liked him, ya know,” Atsumu’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

You turn to face the setter, brows raised in mock amusement. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

You met Ren a year or so after you started working for MSBY, after you’d already grown close with the team, and he got down on one knee just over six months later. 

And now—

“He never liked showin’ his face at games, that cheatin’ bastard. He probably knew we’d see it on his stupid face and pummel his ass.”

Sighing, you nod in a disconnected way, taking a swig from your bottle before placing it down on a table nearby. 

You hadn’t gotten into the rest of the details—how the marketing executive had been sleeping with his eighteen-year-old intern for the entirety of your relationship.

How he was only proposing to you to appease his father for the sake of inheriting his company.

How everything was a lie—

How—

“Atsumu.”

Something prickles along the back of your neck at the sound of Meian’s voice, his tone stern as he approaches.

Atsumu perks up. “And I bet Meian woulda really loved to beat his—”

“Bokuto’s two seconds from puking on your bed,” Meian cuts him off brusquely, sliding into the spot where the blonde was standing as he scurries off, eyes going wide in concern.

You shake your head, offering a genuine smile to the team captain and trying to ignore the long-ignored warmth that rustles in your chest as he looks at you.

“Really?”

He shakes his head, the curve of his mouth matching your own. “Nah, but I know he gets annoying when he’s drunk. And I know that’s the last thing you want to talk about right now.”

Meian has always had a way of reading you, of knowing what you need. 

And you know that, logically, it’s just something that comes naturally to him as a captain. He does it with his team all the time.

But it still does something odd to your fragile heart anyway—the way he notices you.

Bokuto’s sworn this secret (which you accidentally shared after too many drinks one night) to the grave, this stupid little crush that you have on the team captain. One that sprouted long before Ren came into the picture.

One that you were quick to pluck, to try digging out at the roots before it could blossom. 

Part of you is loath to admit that you were inclined to reciprocate Ren’s advances solely in an effort to get over these feelings. 

Feelings that came boiling right back to the surface the night after that teary-eyed practice when your phone lit up with a text from the captain.

MEIAN: I’m not going to ask about things you’re not ready to answer. MEIAN: But if you need help, a hand, or anything, let me know, and I’m there.  MEIAN: No questions asked.

Meian stayed true to his word when you subsequently texted him an address and asked him to bring his pick up truck. 

He didn’t dig for details when you swung open the door to your shared apartment with Ren and gestured at the boxes you’d packed. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know who else to call.

You didn’t know who else would let you sniffle and struggle your way through it all without prying. Without pushing. Without batting an eye when you asked if he could grab things from the closet you couldn’t bear to look back into again. 

Without asking for all of the sordid details of your fiancé’s affair that still find you dry heaving in the bathroom most nights. 

You didn’t have much, the apartment and furniture was Ren’s to begin with.

He helped you move across town back to your parents place with the promise that he’d help again when you found an apartment. 

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” you exhale, and Meian nods in understanding as you smooth your fingertips down the skirt of your dress. “But when I am…”

He waits patiently as you trail off, eyes offering a comfort that’s always been there, that feels like a balm now against the frayed edges of your rattled nerves.

“...I’d like to tell you,” you finish, nervously pinching the material’s hem. 

Meian smiles. “I’ll be here.”

And it’s then that you feel something light hit your head, and you glance around to find a plastic sprig of mistletoe rolling away on the floor. 

“Really?” you choke out a weak laugh.

You don’t immediately look up at Meian. Because while it feels almost childish, the back of your neck burns anyway with the implication behind the silly tradition. 

It wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve found yourself wondering what his lips would feel like against your own. Wondering if he’d cup the back of your head or stroke your jaw. If he’d part the seam of your lips with his tongue and run his thumb against your chin as you melt into his touch. 

Wondering what it would feel like to jump into his arms after a win, to wrap your legs around his waist, to drag your fingers through his sweaty, messy hair and laugh in a mess of tongue and teeth as someone tells you both to get a room while he presses you up against a wall—

You’re tugged away from that train of thought by the feeling of Meian’s large hand taking your own, and your eyes go wide as he lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to them.

“Rules are rules,” he shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin that has no right being that handsome under the multi-colored glow of string lights that adorns the living room.

Overcome by a fleeting surge of confidence as your heart flutters wildly in your chest, your fingers find a home curled in the collar of Meian’s button-down shirt before you can think better of it.

“Captain, I thought you followed rules to a T,” you tease in a voice that feels almost foreign on your lips.

But you’re too caught up in the moment to second guess yourself.

Meian leans in as you tug him closer, and you sway a little, steadied only by his hand as it comes to rest against your waist. Gently, featherlight—as if he’s still waiting for you to change your mind.

He quietly says, “You’re the manager here, maybe I need a refresher.”

His breath is hot as it curls against your lips in the scant space left between your faces.

Your mouth brushes against his, and you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Like this?” he murmurs, fingers curling and pressing the fabric of your dress.

“Yes,” you breathe out, and Meian’s other hand slides to the back of your head as he kisses you.

[teecupangel]

A time travel AU to the pre-canon (or game's starts).

Except that Desmond, Layla and Clay are trapped as a spirits. They only can be seen (and listen) by the people who are attached to the protagonist or are important to the lore.

And the protagonists ALSO time traveled.

You decide:

1-. If the protagonists wake up in they past body or...

2-.are also trapped being spirits that only can be seen (or interact) by they past selves.

Like if you go to the first option:

Arno wakes up the moment that his father gives him the clock or Ratonhnhaké:ton wakes up the day his village was burned.

(In somewhere place Haytham wakes up a listening three voices and having a headache).

Or if you go for the second option:

Maybe past! Ezio wakes up only to be jumpscared by a old voice that maybe sounds like him?

(Claudia or Leonardo wake up by seeing two man and one lady in their room).

In general all Juno plans go and get destroyed and they found a way to fix-it the timeline (Maybe Clay accidentally saves Kadar and Desmond Khemu and Layla gets the Auditores safe?)

I wanted to be vague, so you can...

Go Wild.

So are we going for the modern day Assassins getting separated in time?

Because I think it would be funny if some poor unfortunate soul gets haunted by three ghosts.

But it would be so chaotic if they don’t know there’s three of them because they’re haunting three different people.

(In this one, the Assassin will be haunting their past self and there’s a bit of ‘I’m the only one in the past’ thing going on because they assume what they’re doing is having butterfly effect on everyone else when, in reality, there’s four different ghosts fucking up the timeline.

.

Altaïr

Altaïr will absolutely be annoyed by his older self. “Shut up and watch” is a very common response to a lot of ghost Altaïr’s suggestion. It doesn’t help that ghost Altaïr knows that his younger self needs to do this by himself. It’s really just small mercies that he was able to shout at the young man before he got thrown out of the room, taking down two knights with his knives. It saved Kadar after all.

Altaïr saved no one. Kadar survived because some strange man started talking to him and helping him. He thinks he’s being haunted by the guardian of the treasure he touched and he can’t tell anyone because this ghost keeps telling him that Al Mualim is a traitor.

Malik is having a bad day. Some woman that dresses too lightly has been haunting him and gawking over the supposed legendary Master Assassin Altaïr. Oh, and apparently, she’s from the future but she doesn’t really know what’s supposed to happen. All she knows is that Al Mualim is a traitor and now Malik has to keep a secret from everyone how he’s looking for evidence that could get him beheaded. His brother seemingly getting a sixth sense of when he’s snooping is not helping (Kadar absolutely believes his brother notices he’s been acting strangely and that’s why he’s able to predict Kadar’s next moves and be in the same location before him)

Desmond is fucked. He is so fucked. Why, of all people, was he haunting Abbas??? He can’t even poltergeist the shit out of him because he can’t interact with anyone or anything. Fuck this ghost business. He can, at least, slowly drive him mad by making sure he can’t sleep.

Ezio

Ghost Ezio and teenager Ezio would probably have the best partnership. Ezio wouldn’t trust him at first but, once his father and brothers are arrested, things will absolutely be different.

Clay has no idea why he’s haunting Claudia but he’s making the best of it. She just needs a little push to get the ball rolling and, my god, Clay was going to make sure Claudia Auditore would be the best Assassin in this time period… just to fuck with Ezio.

Layla only read the summary about Ezio’s life so she’s winging it with helping Federico Auditore. It’s not that bad. Federico seems to think she’s some kind of ghost of an ancient civilization (the Isus, Layla realized later on) and she’s going along with it because it makes things easier.

Desmond wants to strangle someone. Why was he haunting Lorenzo de’ Medici??? No. Seriously. Why the fuck was he- Fuck it. He was going to bother Lorenzo until he gets out of his lazy seat and do something about the Auditores’ arrest or, help him, he was going to haunt the shit out of him that everyone will believe he’s become mad.

Ratonhnhaké:ton

Ratonhnhaké:ton and his younger self would have a more father-son relationship although neither of them would admit it. The longer Ratonhnhaké:ton guides his younger self, the more he sees his children in him. All he wish for is for his younger self to have a better ‘ending’.

Clay is gonna end up with Haytham because that would be funny and, if anyone can screw up Haytham, it will be Clay and his casual digs of the family trauma Haytham has and how he’s just adding more family drama to his own son.

Layla’s gonna have a freebie for this one and haunt Faulkner. She’s living the good life, sailing the seas without all the problems that comes with it. This is a vacation for her.

Desmond is going to be Achilles’ problem and, dear god, he’s going to make Achilles actually talk to Ratonhnhaké:ton and have a healthy relationship with the man if it’s the last thing he’d do in this weird ghost state he finds himself in.

[jakef3ver]

Nishimura Riki | NDA

☁︎︎︎ Idol!riki x fan!reader | fem!reader

↯ fluff, crack maybe suggestive a little more into the fic, use of social media (instagram, twt), reader is just a regular girl going to school and stuff

⚠︎︎ will contain mentions of alcohol consume later

lil note: i wanted to post this wayyyy earlier but i couldn’t type because i broke my right arm like 3 weeks ago lmao

-xxx-xxxxx-xxxx Text me :)-

It was shortly after 10 PM when you arrive at your little apartment, just as you walked through the door you receive a text from your boss, Mrs Mina.

Of course you could cover a shift, a little bit of extra money is always nice, isn't it?

Also, it’s just 4 hours and you hadn't anything planned anyway.

Since you had to get up early tomorrow, you quickly got ready for bed, to sleep earlier today.

BUT you couldn't get Nishimura Riki out of your head.

This goddam smile this morning in the cafe and the fact that out of all coffee places,

Ni-ki and Jake showed up at your workplace, had you tossing around in bed until you finally could close your eyes for good.

As soon as Riki hears his alarm go off, he's awake. And he's nervous. But he wants to try and look where it leads him.

He gets up from the hotel bed, takes a pen and rips off a small piece of paper from a notebook he always carries around.

He starts writing after shortly thinking about it again.

xxx-xxxxx-xxxx

Text me :)

He puts back the pen and his notebook before standing up and getting ready to accomplish his little mission with Jake.

After dressing up in some baggy joggers and an oversized hoodie, he carefully folds the little piece of paper and places it in his wallet.

After locking his room, he heads down to the hotel lobby and sends Jake a message.

“So what's your plan?” Jake asks while walking along with Riki in the direction of the cafe.

Riki pulls out the little paper piece that he had written just minutes ago.

“Here” he shows it to Jake “should be okay, right?” Riki asks, looking at Jake.

“Yeah that should do it” he answers “Just smile at her again like you did yesterday” he chuckles while finishing his sentence.

“Shut up” Ni-ki snaps and carefully puts his paper back into his wallet.

“Come on it’ll be fine, trust me” Jake exclaims “You're a hot guy with a nice smile” he finishes and ruffles Rikis hair.

“sure” Ni-ki mumbles as response.

After a short walk of 10 minutes, they reach the cafe, your workplace.

Before entering, Riki takes a deep breath.

“You got this Riki” Jake encourages him and gives him a pat on the back.

Jake walks in first, Riki following directly behind him, already holding the piece of paper in his hand.

As they walk up to the counter, Ni-ki doesn't see you standing there, waiting to take their orders in. He subtly glances around, searching for you. But you were nowhere to be found.

In fact, there was no one behind the counter.

Jake rings a little bell with a sign in front of it that says “Please ring if no one is here”.

And there you were, just a minute before your shift is over.

Jake orders the coffee he had yesterday, now tapping Riki who was lost in thoughts, signaling him it's his turn.

Riki turns to face you and hesitantly starts to speak, with a slight stutter in his voice.

As you went to go to the staff room, to take off your apron you heard the bell ring, signaling someone wants to order.

So you instantly turn and go back behind the counter.

As soon as you see WHO wants to order, you take a deep breath to keep yourself together.

“Hi, what can I get for you two?” you say, more composed than yesterday.

Jake and Ni-ki both order their drinks.

As Riki speaks, you notice a slight nervousness radiating from him.

Is he okay? You think to yourself, while typing in their orders.

You tell them the total for their order and Ni-ki pulls out his wallet and hands you more money than needed

“Ju-just keep the rest” he tells you with a small smile.

You nod and put the money into the little cash register. While doing so, you notice a small piece of paper.

He must’ve accidentally given it to you with the money. So you decide to put it aside and give it to him when handing them their drinks.

And so you do, you hand both of them their coffee.

“here you accidentally gave this to me with the money” you say to Riki, your voice a little shaky.

He looks at the piece of paper and shakes his head. “it’s for you” he says so quietly it is nearly impossible to hear, but you still understand.

Jake says goodbye with a smile before going, while Riki just quickly leaves.

As soon as they were out of the cafe, you rush to the staff room to look at the paper, which you didn’t do until now.

xxx-xxxxx-xxxx

Text me :)

“No fucking way” you whisper. That couldn’t be happening right now, could it?

“No fucking way that this was meant for me” you speak to yourself.

You quickly get rid of the Apron and grab your bag to rush home, with the piece of paper carefully placed in your pocket.

masterlist | previous | next

tags: @chaevibes @yangjungwonnie @minskzy @d-dilemma @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @ssiiwave @deadpool15 @enhabooks

[blxxdsex]

"The genius, Michael Gavey." - Michael Gavey x Reader.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, masturbation, foul language, loss of virginity, cum control.

English is not my first language, so I hope you will forgive me if there are any mistakes.

It’s not as if anyone’s queuing up to see what’s behind those smudged glasses or that same red sweater he pulls on every Monday. And that's fine. Honestly, it is. He's made peace with it. It’s their loss, isn’t it? That's the mantra he clings to, the thread keeping his fragile ego intact: They're the ones missing out. And God, doesn’t he need to believe it.

Michael’s good at a lot of things, and he knows it. Brilliant, really. Genius, if we're being honest. Maths? Please—he’s never even touched a calculator. Numbers are his domain, his sanctuary, the one place where he feels entirely at ease. Books too—though never fantasy; he’d rather lose himself in something real, something concrete. But everything else? Social skills? A complete disaster, really. Painful to watch.

When you arrived in Oxford, it hit him hard. Why? Because even when he was buried in the silence of the library, there you were, watching him. Always watching. Maybe intending to read a book—upside down, no less—or lounging with your legs thrown over a table, headphones blaring as if you couldn't care less about the world around you.

Michael Gavey isn't used to being seen. For fuck’s sake, he’s Michael Gavey. Nobody. Invisible, as he’s always preferred. But then you came along, and suddenly, invisibility wasn't an option. You became something else entirely: a problem, a distraction, a bloody nuisance he couldn’t seem to get rid of. And maybe, deep down, that’s what scared him most.

So, naturally, his response was to start staring back. Maybe if he leaned into being a proper weirdo, you’d back off. But no, of course not. You didn't flinch. You just stared right back, unwavering, unbothered. It didn't take long for one of the teachers to step in, warning him, of all people, to knock it off. And you? You just smiled. Smiled like you'd won some secret, twisted game, baring all your teeth like a predator who'd just cornered its prey.

When he squinted at you, furrowing his eyebrows in some attempt to decode whatever the hell was going on, you simply glanced at the table, still grinning like you had a secret you were dying to keep.

What was your problem? Were you planning something? Was there a game being played here, something sinister he couldn’t quite see? The questions clawed at him, gnawed at his focus, and yet, no answers came. Only that smile. God, he hated it.

Things weren't improving, no, they were deteriorating rather quickly. And it all took a turn for the bizarre when, in the dead of night, he awoke still half hard, with his shorts drenched in cum and his mind? Cluttered with vivid memories of a particular dream from the previous night. Never had he scrubbed a piece of clothing with such fury in his life; this treacherous body was doing him in. And the most egregious part? His cock was a bloody jest, because even after such mortification, he had to wank off once more just to make the torment subside.

That day, the Oxford corridors felt like they were smoldering beneath him, each step fueling the inferno inside his chest. His sneakers might as well have been on fire for how much he burned with rage. And then he saw you, loitering by your locker, looking infuriatingly calm as always. It was like you wanted to drive him insane.

He stormed over, slamming your locker shut with a single hand, his nostrils flaring like he was ready to tear you apart—not literally, of course. Well, maybe a little. He was unraveled, utterly tormented, and you? You were only making it worse.

“Stop.” The word came out flat, almost pitiful, his voice cracking under the weight of his irritation. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, were clouded and bloodshot, as if they’d been scorched by his fury.

“With what?” you asked, tilting an eyebrow, that insufferable smirk tugging at your lips. Carefree. Effortless. It made his teeth grind in pure frustration. He didn’t even understand why he felt so unhinged—just that he did.

“What the hell do you want?” he barked, his voice echoing down the corridor. Heads turned, a few people pausing to glance at the scene, but you didn't so much as flinch. No fear, no embarrassment. You just leaned lazily against your locker, staring at him down like you had all the time in the world.

“Your number, to start with, would be great.” The words hit him like a physical blow. His pupils dilated so fast it felt like the world had tilted. If darkness swallowed everything right then and there, he was convinced he’d still see you.

And that’s when everything shifted. You weren’t messing with him—not in the way he’d thought. No, you were interested in him. The realisation hit Michael like a slap, and even then, his perpetually self-loathing brain struggled to piece it all together. For once, his stupid mind was just that: stupid.

But then the messages started, tentative at first, and something clicked. You actually got on—really got on. It was strange, almost unnerving, how much you seemed to have in common. You liked some of the same nerdy things as him, and he found himself listening to bands he’d previously written off because you mentioned them. Slowly, the conversations moved out of his phone and into the library, where you started sitting at the same table.

People noticed, of course. Curious glances trailed after the two of you, some even daring to linger when Michael—Michael Gavey, of all people—was caught smiling. Not a smirk or a grimace, but an actual smile, albeit half-hidden behind his hand. But it was there, and for once, he didn’t mind. Not entirely.

And then, on a Friday night when everything seemed eerily serene, the text message arrived. 'Do you want to come to my dorm?' Panic ensued. Perhaps it's a tad presumptuous to assume you want to fuck him, isn't it? Yet, he was presuming precisely that. But the truth is, Michael has only kissed one girl in his entire life; otherwise, his knowledge comes from pornography, books about the human anatomy, and the hushed conversations in the men's locker room. And it's not that he didn't want to; in fact, he wanted to, desperately so, but the truth was that no one seemed sufficiently captivated to offer him the chance. But you, you were offering. Maybe. What does one do with that?

He took a shower, donned his usual jeans and a white shirt, slipped on his sneakers, and even spent time before the mirror wrestling with his blond hair, to little avail, of course. He decided he wouldn't be a coward; he had this chance, maybe, and he wouldn't squander it with timidity. He made his way to the girls' dorm on campus, garnering more than a few disdainful looks from the passing girls. It was just because it was him; if it were Felix sneaking in, they'd be all smiles. But who cares? There was only one person he hoped would truly appreciate his presence. He reached your door, his breath caught in his throat, and knocked so feebly that perhaps he thought you wouldn't even hear. Pathetic, honestly.

But you heard him, and when you opened the door, he froze for a moment. You'd just taken a shower; your skin was still slightly flushed from the hot water, wearing an oversized shirt, once black but now faded to grey, and some pajama shorts that honestly looked more like his underwear than actual shorts. He swallowed hard, managing a crooked smile. You leaned against the doorframe, your smile much more genuine.

"You came." The words slipped from your lips with such ease, rolling off your tongue with a genuine satisfaction that straightened his crooked smile.

"Yeah, well. It's not like I have anything better to do, of course." His reply lacked the sharpness he'd rehearsed in his mind, accompanied by a glance at the floor and a stupid, silly smile.

"Yeah, of course." You laughed, rolling your eyes, and turned your body to give him space to enter, if he wanted to, though he looked as if he might bolt at any second.

But he didn't run away; no, he actually stepped inside. The room was like most others, yet he was struck by how orderly it was. Like any typical dorm, there was the TV, the two single beds, a small table, and in the corner of an adjacent smaller room, the bathroom. The scent of cleaning products lingered, indicating you'd taken the time to tidy up before inviting him over. This shouldn't have pleased him as much as it did, but it did.

"Just take off your sneakers before you lay on the bed," you said with that nonchalant tone of yours, picking up the TV remote from the table.

He glanced at the paused movie on the screen before turning his attention to the bed. His mind wasn't exactly racing as he sat down, beginning to untie his sneakers, but his focus soon shifted to the side of your face. He was transfixed by how your hair framed your features, how your lips were so perfectly shaped, and how your eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. He had to run a hand over his face, nearly knocking off his glasses, to bring himself back to reality, blinking several times to refocus on removing his sneakers.

"I chose 'Evil Dead,' but they didn't have the classics." Your voice drew his gaze upward again. You casually made your way to the bed beside him, practically throwing yourself down, causing the mattress to bounce. "Is that a problem for you?" you asked, turning to look at him, your eyes locking with his.

His throat visibly tightened as he swallowed, while you didn't even blink. For a moment, he found it a rather amusing jest. What could a girl like you, with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, with lips that curved into the brightest smile he could imagine, possibly want with him? He was either the luckiest bastard in the world or the biggest delusional of the year. But that was fine, at least for now.

"No, it's not a problem at all," Michael mumbled, unsure if he was referring to the movie choice or something else entirely. But it would suffice either way.

He saw you smile widely, and you felt you should, noticing his blue eyes dilate behind his glasses. Looking down where you had crossed your legs beneath you, you tried to focus and simply pressed play on the movie. The low noise from the TV soon filled the room, the colors of the film painting your faces and reflecting in Michael's glasses. The silence was comfortable, as always. The sounds of calm breathing filled the space, but well, his eyes weren't really on the TV; they were on you. To the point where he had to rest his hand on his face, just to appreciate it, perhaps.

"You know, watching a movie works better when you're looking at the screen," you commented, your eyes still fixed on the screen, though you felt the heat from his gaze on your cheek.

"I prefer to watch you." His words were barely above a whisper, but they reached you, making your smile widen even more.

Your eyes flicked to him, while his remained steady, though he felt his palms sweating against his cheek. He was nervous, and his attempt at an impassive expression wasn't fooling you. The words that left his lips were just truths, and seeing you smile, it was good to see you smile, it brought a subtle curve to his own lips. Sighing, you drew your knees up to your chest, resting your chin there, unsure of what to make of his words or of him. Just as he was unsure of what to make of you or how much you unsettled him.

"I hate almost everyone here except you." Your words mirrored his in tone, quiet, perhaps too intimate to slip out.

They made him pause, just looking at you, wondering. Time seemed to stand still, the screams from the movie not reaching your ears; things were quiet, almost silent. And that's when his hand rose, wrapping around the back of your neck, perhaps with the most courage he'd ever mustered in his life. Your lips parted slightly when you noticed him shifting on the bed to get closer, and you responded in kind, leaning towards him, your hand hesitating before also reaching up to the back of his neck, slipping between the golden strands to hold him firmly. Bringing your faces close, your breaths began to mingle, and soon all that was reflected in his glasses were your lips, all his attention focused solely on them.

"You're trouble, and you want to know why?" Michael whispered, your gaze falling to his lips as they formed the words. They were thrown at your face, raw and direct. "Because it seems like after I met you, there's been something wrong with my brain." He lifted his thumb to trace your bottom lip, as if to commit it to memory.

"Yeah?" Your response lacked strength, not truly. "That's good, because it seems like after you I'll never be the same." Whispering another confession, now it seemed more than fitting, even with your breathing too rapid to say much more, or what you truly wanted to.

A faint smile touched Michael's lips, perhaps an attempt at composure before he leaned in closer. Tilting your heads in opposite directions, your noses brushed against each other, the taste of each other's breath mingling on your lips, shared. His lips were the first to part, capturing your lower one slowly, almost tentatively, until yours responded, capturing his upper lip. The kiss started slowly, your lips moving together with an unhurried grace, despite your quickening breaths at the contact. His free hand found your waist, attempting to pull you closer, while your hand tangled in his hair, gripping it almost in a fist.

But it wasn't enough, far from it. Leaning forward, Michael guided you both down onto the bed, supporting himself with each hand on either side of your head, positioning his body between your legs, which parted to welcome him. One of his hands slid down to your thigh, lifting it and pressing it against his side, your hips naturally seeking each other, and his already hardened cock brushed against your increasingly aroused intimacy. Sounds escaped between kisses, your hands sliding to grip his back, when Michael pressed your bodies together again, rolling his hips and drawing out a sly moan from his own lips, making it difficult to continue kissing you.

Your hands reached for the hem of his shirt, attempting to pull it up, but his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head, fingers intertwining there, as he pulled back just enough to look you squarely in the eye. His heavy breathing made his chest rise and fall, sweat causing his glasses to slide down his nose.

"I..." the words seemed reluctant to escape as he gazed down at you, your lips flushed and your chest heaving. He didn't want to dissuade you, but he had to say it. "I've never done that."

Your only response was to lift your head from the bed, seeking his lips and succeeding in a gentle capture, with him lowering himself to return the kiss. Though not deep, your teeth nipped at his lower lip, tugging gently, perhaps trying to draw him closer. Your fingers pressed against his above your head, yearning to be free, you just wanted to touch him, feel him, it didn't matter if he was inexperienced, if you had to guide him step by step, or if this was all you would have, feeling him like this above you.

"Just touch me, I don't care," you murmured against his lip, without the strength for more words, which in response prompted him to roll his hips against yours again, closing his eyes with a moan, just as your head tilted back, lifting your hips to meet his movement.

His hands released yours, and you quickly grabbed his shirt, pulling it up and off him, and he reciprocated, lifting yours inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. Without a bra, your breasts were bared to him, making him pause. His lips went dry as he took in the sight of your hardened nipples, ready for attention, despite his momentary hesitation. You saw it in his eyes, in how they flickered to meet yours, and your hand reached to caress his cheek before grabbing the back of his neck, gently guiding him toward your chest, arching off the bed to ensure he understood your consent.

And he understood more than clearly, leaning down to kiss the space between your breasts before moving to one, enveloping it with his mouth entirely, using his hand to squeeze it firmly. The sensation of your skin against his mouth elicited a low sound from him that vibrated through your body, prompting you to grind your hips against his already hard cock. His tongue followed, swirling around your nipple, sucking as if his life depended on it. His mouth salivated, saliva running down your chest, glistening your skin with his essence. His free hand went to your other breast, squeezing it tightly, his lips trailing kisses to the other side, his tongue sliding along until it reached your other nipple, circling it with fervent enthusiasm.

"Fuck," you murmured, your intimacy throbbing, squeezing as you leaned on the bed to create friction against his erection, making him to bite the nipple in his mouth to stifle a loud moan.

His lips left your chest, observing the glistening, swollen flesh from his attentions. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, going straight to his core. He looked down to where his hardness met your shorts, stopping himself from climaxing right there, taking deep breaths.

"Tell me..." his words trailed off, his lips struggling to draw in breaths. "Tell me how to be good for you." His whisper was broken, he was too far gone to really care about it.

You smiled, even in the throes of your overwhelming need for him. One of your hands took one of his, slowly guiding it to your core, and he watched intently as you slipped it inside your shorts and soaked panties, biting his lip as his expression contorted with pleasure. Slowly, you positioned his fingers perfectly over your clit, starting to move them in circles, making your breathing quicken further. Fortunately, Michael was a quick learner, or perhaps just desperate enough. Your fingers left his as he took over, moving them faster, circling over your soaked clit. You tried to reach for his hardness in his pants, but with his free hand, he caught yours and pinned it to the bed.

"Don't." The words came out swiftly, a desperate command because he knew well that if you touched him, he would cum right then and there.

You accepted it, not attempting to touch him again. Feeling his fingers slide over and over your most sensitive spot, the sounds began to fill the room, the wetness so intense it seeped through your pajama shorts, and he could hardly believe his incredible luck. His eyes moved to your face, noticing your parted lips, your cheeks flushed red, and your breasts, still glistening from his saliva, seeming to beckon him. One of your hands gripped his wrist, and he could see from your expression how close you were. The hand that had been holding yours to the bed released it, moving to the back of your neck, lifting your head to make you look down.

"Watch," he murmured, sliding his thumb perfectly over your clit, and you felt like stars were bursting behind your eyes even as you complied and stared.

You saw his hand moving inside your shorts, the veins in his forearm pulsing with the effort, the muscles there flexing. His hand held you tightly, almost encompassing your neck. And when his fingers started moving side to side, you knew you were finished. Your lips parted completely, a groan trapped in your throat escaped, you tried to throw your head back but his grip prevented it, and then, your walls clenched, he could feel the pulsing around his fingers, your belly flexing as you reached your climax, clamping your legs around his forearm.

Your body goes limp on the bed, your thighs still trembling as his hands slide from your neck down to your thighs, smearing his taste there. He grips the hem of your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties. When his eyes meet your pulsing, glistening pussy, a sigh escapes him, eyes closing momentarily to regain control. You hear the sound of his pants being unzipped, him kicking them off along with his underwear. Your eyes open just in time to see him grip the base of his cock, bringing the head to your sensitive clit, eliciting a tight, desperate moan from you.

"You're so beautiful." he murmurs, dragging the precum-slick tip of his cock across your clit, making your walls clench as he watches. His free hand runs down the inside of your thighs, ensuring they're coated in your own wetness.

He squeezes his eyes shut in pure ecstasy, rubbing his cock from your clit to your entrance, gripping the base tightly to stave off his climax. Your thighs tremble, your hands gripping the sheets, but nothing seems to alleviate the intensity, there's no escape. You're consumed, completely. Your hips start to move desperately for contact, even as your body protests, your fingers threatening to tear the sheets apart. He rubs once more, the almost sinful sounds echoing off the walls, mingling with his low moans and the contractions of his stomach. You can tell he's doing everything in his power not to cum.

"Can I?" He opens his eyes to whisper, looking directly into yours, and with no strength left to speak, you simply nod.

He sighs deeply before positioning himself at your entrance and pushing inside, feeling your walls resist yet yield as he presses in until fully seated, your groins meeting. A drawn-out moan escapes your lips as his head falls back, a soft groan leaving his throat followed by a sequence of breaths that made his entire body tremble. Michael pauses, trying and failing to calm his racing heart and the overwhelming sensation of your hot, tight insides. Leaning forward, he rests one hand on the bed while the other removes his glasses, setting them aside. Your hands rise to the back of his neck, bringing his forehead to yours, holding it there as he makes the first thrust. Both of your lips part, your moans and breaths mingling.

His thrusts were deep, yet slow. He would withdraw almost completely before sliding back in, each time making your eyes squeeze shut tighter and your head press against his. The sweat on your foreheads seemed to meld you together, turning you into one entity. His eyes opened, burning into your face, and you met his gaze, your eyes filling with tears of pure pleasure as he thrust even deeper.

"I like you," he murmurs, cupping your cheek as his other hand grips the headboard, making the wood creak. A smile graces your lips, almost cut off by his cock sliding in deeper.

"I like you too," you manage to reply between ragged breaths, your fingers tightening around the back of his neck as if it's your lifeline.

He brings his lips to your forehead, giving you a long, lingering kiss, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he brings his hand to your mouth, and with that signal, he starts thrusting with all he has, making you scream into his hand, which hopefully muffles the sound. He rests his own mouth there to also muffle his moans, feeling sweat run down every part of his body, mixing with yours. The bed bangs against the wall, your eyes roll back when he hits that sweet spot inside you, your hands lifting to dig your nails into his back. As your walls clench around him, he feels your climax spill out, soaking the sheets and his lower abdomen. With a louder moan, he quickly pulls out, his cock spilling his cum over your belly.

He releases your mouth and the headboard, letting his full weight rest on you, his head finding solace in the crook of your neck. Your arms encircle his neck, keeping him close as your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of pleasure. Both of you are exhausted, both satisfied. Michael's thoughts drift back to the early weeks of knowing you, how he wished you would vanish, and now, how he dreads the thought of you leaving, like everyone else. The irony might have drawn a bitter laugh from him if he weren't so physically spent.

"I wasn't bluffing," you hear him murmur into your neck, capturing your attention amidst the sensations still coursing through your body. You slowly turn your head towards him.

"What?" you whisper, perhaps fearful that even a slight increase in volume might make this moment slip away, just as much as he is. His eyes, those blues that most people overlook, capture your senses.

"I really like you." Hearing those words again, this time not in the heat of the moment, did something different to you stomach, perhaps quickened your heart more than the entire act itself, burned your skin more than anything else.

Drawing him closer with your hand, you adjust his position so he lies on your chest, where he places a gentle kiss. Your fingers delve into his hair, and you cast a brief glance to the side where his glasses still rest. A smile graces your lips because the truth is, you are utterly and hopelessly in love with the genius Michael Gavey. The irony is that he doesn't seem genius enough to realize it.

[uselessbard1031]

Snowflakes & Sunshine -- Sevika X Chem Baron! Reader (C1 Preview -- AO3 link at end)

You can hear your captive before you can see her. Three of your largest men drag her into your hideout, yet still she is grunting and growling as she tries to fight them off. All the theatrics. Sevika really did live up to her reputation, now didn't she?

You tuck the book you were reading away into the built-in wood shelves of your basement hovel just in time for the twins (Ratchet and Clank) to shove her forward and remove the blindfold from her grey eyes. Your captive stops fighting, instead glaring at every shadow and corner, daring it to attack. As she takes in the room, you pour yourself a cup of tea from the kettle on your single burner stove. It sits between your cot of a bed and the entrance to your bathroom. After that, it's your desk and the bookshelf along with an old five time hand-me-down loveseat in desperate need of a reupholster. The buttons on the tufts don't match and two have popped straight off. But it was here when you got here and was comfortable enough for a seat.

“What is this dump?” Sevika scoffs. Some of the hair from her half-back ponytail falls in front of her eyes. She blows it back the way a bull does before it charges. 

“My office,” you respond simply, leaning against the front of your old wooden desk. “It's where you'll be staying until your boss pays up. You're free to explore the other rooms too, once you cool off a little.”

“No locks?” She half scoffs half laughs. “No chains?”

“Unless you try to leave or attack me, I don't find them necessary.”

With a disbelieving -- no, challenging -- grin the woman turns for the door instantly.

“Do you want locks and chains?” You sip your tea. “Kinky.”

“You can't stop me,” she says it like a fact. Which it is. She's easily twice your size. A fight is unlikely to go in your favour. Good thing you don't plan to fight.

“No,” you agree. “But Brutus can. Brutus?” The burly man comes in from the hallway to block the door. To block her path. If he were to enter your room, he'd have to duck. And bend his knees. And maybe squeeze his shoulders together too. Good thing he's not entering yet. “If she tries to leave, chain her up. I think she likes it.”

Sevika turns. She can't face him. But she can more than face you. 

“You don't know who you're messing with here,” she warns. How cliche. “Silco has a lot on his plate right now. The last thing he needs is to be wasting time with some nobodies so cowardly they had to jump me to get me here.”

Silco needs her. Hopefully more than he needs is attention to be elsewhere. He won't fight you. No. Like she said, you're nobodies. Fringe at best in the chem baron game. So he won't waste the men or the time. He wants Sevika back? He'll just pay you off. Deal with you later. If he feels like he can crush your forces without trying, then he'll leave you in the palm of his hand for now -- if only not to strain his wrist with the fist he'd need to make to end you. Besides, he's focused on Jinx. You had it on good authority that the girl's favourite holiday was the one coming up. Even better authority said that your gift to her was about to arrive. 

You crack a smirk. “You’re just a ray of optimism, Sunshine.” 

She growls at the nickname. You laugh, pushing yourself off of the desk.

“Get cozy,” you say, patting her cheek. She jerks her head away, a threat in the way she bares her teeth. “I think there's going to be snow for Christmas.”

There is indeed snow for Christmas. Of course there is. And it's all thanks to you. 

You see, Zaun hasn't seen snow for the last decade and a half due to this obnoxious Piltovian factory built right above the promenade level. It's wide and flat and pumps all of its smog and runoff down to your city. Between it and the bridge, about three quarters of Zaun has had only the rain of pollutants in all this time. Someone had to blow it up. With the workers on a union strike far away and safe from the crossfire? That someone became you.

The explosion is enough to rattle down the valley walls of the city and wake every alleycat and drunkard left out on the streets. Snow falls at first in a big white sheet that covers everything from the ground to the rooftops. Then it doesn't stop; a flurry of soft white dots like horizontal stars in the window. Outside the main door of your hideout (a bookstore and cafe offering both free books and coffee on most days when your heart strings are pulled by someone hopeful but broke), it's like a small white step has appeared; one stair up closer to the opulence of those who live above. A few people leave their homes. At first, they're curious, then, rather swiftly, curiosity turns to wonder and awe and snowball fights and snow angels. For once, it'll be a white Chsirmas in Zaun. 

You notice Sevika looking out the window and have to chuckle. Though her tough girl mask attempts to cover it, there's this sparkle like a snowflake in her steel eyes. That childlike magic of a snow day beckons her the same as everyone else only, she fights it off with a stick.

“Brutus!” You call over your shoulder. The giant appears between two tall oak bookshelves. “Get the cocoa barrels from the basement. Make sure everyone's got a scarf and mittens. I'm taking our new pet outside.”

...Continued on Ao3

[out-there-tmblr]

Young Zaundads wip (11)

(Not where I wanted to end this section but I need to sleep)

***

They both get the stew, and eat it quickly, shovelling in mouthfuls without saying a word. Connol and Benzo are chattering about something that happened today but Vander isn't listening. His knee pressed against Silco's and all he wants to do is get out of here.

They finish in record time and Silco offers to return their plates and trays. As soon as he's away from the table, Felicia kicks his shin. "You're not subtle, you know."

"What?" Vander asks, watching Silco make his way across the room. His shoulders twisting to walk between people, the dark hair tied back in a low bun with a few loose strands curling against his neck.

"Come on," Felicia replies. "I'll eat my hard hat if you're not about to drag him out to the store rooms."

"What's wrong with that?" Across the room, Silco stops to talk to one of the kitchenhands. He glances over at Vander and Vander feels himself grin back at him. 

Felicia laughs. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with it."

"You didn't see Vander throw a pickaxe today," Benzo mutters, reaching for his drink.

Vander ignores them, standing up as Silco returns. "Ready to go?"

"I can't." Silco looks more serious than he should. "Change of plans."

"What?"

"My plans," Silco says, echoing Vander's irritated tone, "have changed. It's not a hard concept to grasp."

Vander reaches out, wraps a hand around Silco's wrist and Silco softens.

"Stay here," Silco says, voice almost gentle. "Drink with your friends. I have to do something, but I'll be back later."

Vander nods and sits back down as Silco leaves. Vander looks across the table to find his friends staring at him. "What?"

Connol and Felicia share a glance. "Do you want to be here," Connol asks, "or with him?"

Vander shrugs. "I know I've been spending a lot of time with Silco lately–"

"No," Connol interrupts. "It was a genuine question. Where do you want to be?"

"With him."

"Then why are you here?" Felicia asks pointedly and Vander thinks about it. She has a point.

"I will see you tomorrow," he promises, standing up and hurrying out the door. He looks around the courtyard, from the dorms on one side the dark store rooms on the other, but Silco's nowhere to be seen. Silco might be on his way to the riverbank, so Vander heads left, towards the courtyard gates.

As he walks, a movement behind the mess hall catches his attention. It's murky and shadowed back there, and then there's a thin line of light as the door creaks open and Vander spots a familiar outline standing in the dark.

He changes direction but walks quietly, not wanting to interrupt the hushed conversation Silco's having with someone inside. The door opens a little wider, a large cloth sack is pushed at Silco, and then the door closes again, leaving Silco and Vander in the dark.

Vander steps forward, a crunch of gravel under his foot and Silco spins around to face him, bag down at his side and one fist raised, ready to fight. "Silco?"

Silco huffs out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. "What are you doing here?"

"Followed you. Wanted to help, if I could."

"And if you couldn't help?"

"I wanted to spend time with you," Vander says and Silco sneers at him like it's ridiculous. "I'm not the one who suddenly changed our plans."

"There's an inspection tomorrow. The kitchen just got word." Silco lifts up the bag and starts walking along the fence, heading towards the dorms. "Of course, the Piltover inspectors can't be expected to eat stale bread, so the kitchen will be baking everything fresh in the morning. And anything old gets thrown out before the inspectors see it."

From the way Silco carries the bag, it's bulky but not heavy. "Are you stealing stale bread?"

"I'm not stealing it. It would have been thrown out." Silco frowns, eyes narrowing. "Quietly. Because they don't want the miners to know how easily the mine discards the same things they charge us for. But Manix in the kitchen was a foundling, so I keep quiet and he gives it to me instead."

Vander never sees Silco eat in the mornings but surely he would have noticed if Silco had bags of bread stashed away in his secret hideout. It definitely would have been found in the dorms. "What are you going to do with that much bread?"

"You'll see," Silco mutters. He leads them around the outside edge of the compound, avoiding the well-lit centre. They pass by Vander's dorm, and then Felicia's, and then Silco's. They pass another two, and then stop at the very last one, closest to the mines and furthest from the gate and the mess hall. All of the dorms have metal doors with soldered iron bars for locking them. Usually, the gears on the bars are rusted solid from lack of use; the gears on this door are shiny and clean.

Silco raps on the door and it's opened by an unimpressed teenager, arms folded across his chest. He steps forward, blocking the doorway. "What do you want?" he asks Vander and then he sees Silco over Vander's shoulder, and steps away. He gives two sharp whistles, and the noise goes quiet as they step inside.

The bunks in here are smaller. In Vander's dorm, the double row of beds lines up along each wall with space between each bed. Here, the smaller bunk beds are pushed against the wall, the head of each bunk touching the feet of the next. In the middle of the room, there's one large table and an empty space with a threadbare rug. There are kids everywhere. Sitting on their bunks, sitting in groups on the floor, a group of older teens standing by the door. They watch him in a distrustful way that reminds him of Silco.

Vander ducks down to quietly ask, "Are we allowed to be here?"

"No," Silco replies. "That's why we used the back door. No adults allowed."

Silco walks around to the table and places the sack on it. He starts pulling out bread rolls, lining them up on the table and counting them out. He calls out loudly, "Come on, everyone, you know the drill. One each," and the kids start lining up at the table. It's surprisingly orderly. They don't snatch at the food or all rush the table. They just shuffle forward and pick out a bread roll each, weirdly solemn despite the free food.

Vander spots Seksha in the line and smiles at her, but she looks away.

The older kids at the door, the ones that are only a few years younger than him and Silco, are the last ones to join the line. They keep one of them standing by the front door at all times. A lookout, Vander realises. They're guarding the younger teens. The two oldest seem to be a boy with dark blue hair and a girl with dirty blonde hair cropped short. Silco clearly knows them well.

"Vena, Eri, you'll have to divide what's left tomorrow," Silco tells them, handing them the sack. "There are three left. Who didn't come for food?"

"Marci has a sprained ankle," Eri says, pushing hair behind his ear. "Petrov's sleeping off a cold. Evelie…"

"I heard," Silco says. "Show me." 

Vander follows them to the back corner where a girl of fifteen lies in bed, skin clammy and pale, her red hair lying limp against her scalp. Her left arm is bandaged from the elbow to the forearm, and there's no hand below that.

Silco looks at her and the corners of his mouth grow tight. "What did the medic say?"

"It's a fever," Vena says, voice low and angry. "Nothing can be done until she beats it."

"Keep her cool," Vander says, remembering his Ma's advice. "Damp cloths on her forehead, her chest and under her arms. Willow-weed can help. It grows near the riverbed. You need pieces that haven't touched the river. You boil it and feed her the water when it's cool."

Maybe it's inappropriate when there's a girl sweating and pale on the bed, but Vander loves the way Silco looks at him, awed and impressed. Like Vander just did something miraculous by offering some simple advice.

"Do you need us to fetch some?" Vander offers, enjoying Silco's admiration.

"No," Eri says. "We'll get it."

"Tonight," Silco insists. "There's an inspection tomorrow."

Vena snorts. "Yeah, we know. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

"We should go," Silco says to Vander, and then turns to Eri. "If Evelie gets worse, if you need to take her to the river, send word to me. I'll do it."

Vander doesn't ask about it until they're walking away from the dorm, heading to the mine. "Take her to the river? Everyone knows you don't get into the river with so much as a scratch."

"The Pilt is always hungry for blood," Silco recites. It's a simple phrase, something every child in the undercity is taught. "If the river tastes blood, the river kills."

"So why would you offer to take her?"

"Because sometimes it's kinder than letting it take weeks for someone to die. It's certainly easier for the children sleeping close to her."

Vander follows Silco's quick steps, but he's starting to know these twists and turns to Silco's abandoned shed. "Another question. That was free food, so why weren't the kids excited?"

"Because they know it only happens before an inspection," Silco replies. "The Pilties get unnerved by us Foundlings. Haven't you noticed? Every time there's an inspection, everyone working in our mine is over eighteen. The Piltovers don't like seeing the kids that clear the new shafts, so the doors on the foundling dorm are locked up tight."

[mischievouslittlecreature]

@brummiereader Thank you so much, Brummie! 🖤

Lizzie's such a hot mess, and it's not gonna get better for awhile 😬. I purposefully left it a little ambiguous if Lizzie actually was planning this all along--though personally I think that she probably always did know that deep down she wasn't going to actually be alright with it.

Tommy's been a bit of a dumbass here, but I as cruel and harsh as some of the things he said were, Lizzie has also worn out his patience. He was trying to be nice and understanding, but unfortunately almost every time he and Lucy do that, Lizzie takes it as an invitation to push boundaries 🫣. There are some hard truths that they need to make her face or else she'll keep trying to frolic around in fantasy land.

Eeeeeeee I'm so glad that you liked the smut! I really wanted to emphasize how much he still wants her.

He absolutely is the only one who can quiet the voices in her head! So long as they're together he can be there to help pull her back from the edge when she starts inching near it.

I'm afraid that the drama around Lizzie is only beginning 😬. It's gonna be a long road for these three.

Lol if only Diana (awful as she is 🤢) had shown up a few years earlier 🤭. She would have solved a whole lotta problems for them.

Thank you so very much for your wonderful comments, Brummie! If you want, there are a couple one-shots between this part and s5 that you can read, or you can jump straight into s5 if you'd prefer! They are required reading in order to understand s5. Thank you again so, so much for your continued support of Lucy and this series! 🖤🖤🖤

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: Tommy has to make a choice of which woman he will pledge himself to.

Word Count: 7,520

Warnings: Jealousy, depression, smut, and infidelity (sort of).

Notes: I am so sorry for the high word count of this chapter. I just couldn't find a good place to break it in two. Tommy's a bit of an idiot here, but he is trying.

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic! I have been absolutely blown away by the reception it has gotten. If you enjoyed this and are looking for more like it, I am planning to post another fic set in this same timeline that takes place during season 5, and manages to be somehow even more angsty than this one. So keep your eyes open for that if you're interested!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 5: Promises

“Miss. Winters.”

Lucy looked up, startled out of the sharp focus she’d been concentrating onto the papers in front of her. Frances was standing there near her desk, peering at her from over the tray of steaming food clutched in her hands. 

“Mr. Shelby wanted me to bring this for you. He didn’t want you to go hungry.”

Lucy frowned, capping her pen and setting it aside. Grabbing a stack of papers, she moved them out of the way to make room on her desk for the tray. “They’re having dinner?”

“Yes, Miss. They were just finishing, I think.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

Frances frowned. “Mrs. Shelby told me that you were working and wouldn’t be able to eat with them this evening.”

“Ah.” That made sense, then. Frances stuttered. 

“I’m sorry if there’s been a miscommunication…”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” Lucy waved away her apologies. “Thank you for bringing the tray.”

Frances nodded, and departed from the room. Fingertips rubbing together, Lucy glanced over at the plate on her desk. Piled upon it was a filet of salmon, some potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Picking up the fork, she picked idly at the fish, flaking it but bringing only a few mouthfuls to her lips. Her appetite was nonexistent.

Something in Lizzie had changed. That much was clear. Whatever warmth or amiable attitude towards her and the arrangement they’d agreed upon prior to the wedding had evaporated. She must have changed her mind about being okay with Tommy remaining involved with her. Or maybe this was her plan all along; to get Tommy legally bound to her and then push Lucy out. 

She could not say for how long she sat there, staring into space and picking at her food. When she looked up at the clock, it was to find that it was a lot later than she’d expected. Fucking hell, had it really been that long since she’d watched Tommy and Lizzie depart with the children for their picnic? 

Pushing away from her desk, she made her way out of her office with mechanical movements. In her mind, she debated whether or not she should even try to seek out Tommy wherever he was in the massive house. Probably with his wife. Enjoying their time together. 

She’d just leave them be, she decided, taking the route towards the stairs to head to bed. He clearly didn’t want to see her, considering it had been hours and he hadn’t even stopped by her office after they got back from their outing. She’d hate to pop their happy little bubble more than she already had.  

On her way to the staircase she passed by the library. The door leading inside was slightly cracked open, revealing a sliver of golden light. From within, she caught snippets of chatter and laughter. Footsteps coming to a stop, she stared at the wooden door, the feeling of being left out sitting like a rock inside her chest. 

Unable to stop herself, despite knowing it would only cause her pain, she shuffled forward to peek through the small crack between the doors.

Tommy, Lizzie, and Charlie were all crowded around a table, playing a board game together. Tommy and Lizzie were seated next to each other on a couch, both laughing at something Charlie must have done during his turn. As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. 

 A crushing sensation squeezed harshly at Lucy’s heart. She took a staggering step back, hoping to escape before any of them spotted her, but Tommy’s eyes lifted before she could fully dart out of view from the doorway. Maybe he had sensed her there. Or maybe it was just her movement in the corner of his eye that caught his attention. 

“Lucy?” he straightened, and the way that the small smile that had been playing on his lips as he watched his wife and child fell just about killed her. It felt like she’d burst in on a private moment that she had no business being a part of. As if with just her presence alone she had ruined all the fun and joy he was experiencing. 

“I was just going to bed,” she said, so that they knew that she had no intention of intruding further. “So, erm…goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Lucy,” Charlie said, despite most of his concentration being focused on moving his piece across the board. Lizzie said nothing, but Tommy scrambled to his feet, crossing the room to her before she could back away. 

“Hey,” he spoke gently, taking her gently by the arm. “I’m sorry. Frances said you were busy, and Charlie wanted to play–”

“It’s fine.”

He blinked, concern filling his eyes. “Love–”

“It’s late,” she shrugged him off. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dad, it’s your turn!” Charlie called. Lucy started to retreat away. So that he could return to his family.  

Tommy tried to reach out for her again. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Pausing, she looked back at him. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. The breaths leaving her lips turned shaky. Hands stuffing into her pockets, her head bowed, she began the walk through the winding halls to her room. Tucked far in the back of the house, away from the main apartments, where hardly anyone ever wandered. 

Hidden out of sight, out of mind. She wondered if he knew she had moved rooms. And if he did, if he knew where she was. 

If he would even try to come looking for her.   

∗ ∗ ∗

“Alright, Charlie, mate, it is well past your bedtime,” Tommy said, gesturing to Frances who was hovering by the door, ready to take him up to his room.

“Aw, c’mon, just one more round!” Charlie whined. 

“Yes, Tommy, just one more,” Lizzie agreed, smiling around her cigarette. Tommy narrowed his eyes at them. 

“I don’t know if I like this with you two ganging up on me.”

They both smiled innocently. 

“Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee,” Charlie begged. Tommy chuckled, ruffling his hair fondly. 

“I’ve had a long day, son. I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow, eh?”

Charlie pouted a little, but relented, saying goodnight to both him and Lizzie before taking Frances’s outstretched hand and letting her lead him away.

“Right,” wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy eyed the door that led out to the main staircase eagerly. Anxiety constricted within his chest.  

It’s fine if you don’t.

God, he was such a fucking shit. He should have gone after her immediately, or at the very least invited her to join them. But she had practically run away from him before he could get the chance. 

The day was almost over, and he had barely gotten to spend any time with her. 

“I’m going to bed. If you need anything, just pull the cord in your room and a maid will come around.”

“Tommy, wait!” Lizzie’s voice was strained with agitation, her eyes suddenly frantic. “Why don’t…why don’t we go for a walk on the grounds?”

Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “Lizzie, it’s dark out.”

“B-but we could–”

“Lizzie,” he wasn’t shouting, but his voice was firm, stopping her in her tracks before she could say any more. “Enough. I know what you’re trying to do. And you need to stop.”

Her jaw clenched, and while anger entered her face, the desperation in her eyes did not cease. “I just…I thought…”

He sighed, turning to face her fully. “You knew what this arrangement was going to look like,” he was mindful to keep his voice calm, not wanting to be unkind. It was understandable that she might struggle with it all at first. But that didn’t mean that he was going to suddenly go back on all the promises he’d made to Lucy. “I gave you a whole week in Paris. I need to go back to her now.”

“No, you don’t.” She rose to her feet, going to him and resting her hands on his arm. 

“Lizzie, this is what you agreed to–”

“I changed my mind,” she blurted out. Tommy stared at her, lips half parted, eyes wide. Horror twisted deeply in his chest. No. Oh, God, no, Lizzie, for fuck’s sake…

Of course he had known that this was a possibility, but after he and Lucy worked so hard to double and triple check that Lizzie was alright with their arrangement, and to impress upon her how things were going to be, he had hoped she would have known better than to hope for more than what he was explicitly offering her. 

He felt his features harden. “Well, I haven’t.”

Lizzie’s features twitched. He could see her trying to keep her vulnerability hidden behind a facade of sternness, but there were cracks forming in the mask. Especially in her eyes.

“We agreed to a very specific type of marriage, Lizzie. Just because you’ve decided to go back on that, doesn’t mean that I have any obligation towards you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The rings on our fingers and our marriage license say otherwise.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “How many times did we ask if you were alright with the deal we were presenting you with, huh? Are you fucking kidding me, Lizzie!?” He pulled back, shaking her hands off of him and half turning away from her. A headache was starting to build behind his eyes. When he looked back at her it was to find Lizzie watching him, hands playing with the buttons on the front of her dress. There was still a tendril of hope in her eyes. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked defeatedly. Lizzie swallowed, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.

“I don’t want you to see her ever again.”

He shook his head. “That’s never going to happen. I’m not leaving her, Lizzie. Not ever. I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you that before you understand–”

“You would never treat her like this!” Lizzie exploded, the mask she’d been trying to keep carefully in place over her features shattering. Bitterness laced her voice as she spat the words out. “If it was the other way around, you would do what she asked of you in a heartbeat!”

He winced at the truth in her words. She was right. He would always prioritize Lucy’s desires. It wasn’t fair to Lizzie. She deserved better. But for fuck’s sake, she knew all of this going into things. It wasn’t like they’d pulled a blindfold over her eyes and tricked her into marrying him with promises of more than what he could offer. He had been as upfront as he knew how on what a marriage to him would be like for her. 

She said she was okay with it. Had she been lying? Had she intended to trap him all along? Or did she think she could handle things only to realize that she was in over her head after the fact? Or was she still that delusional to believe that he would somehow have a change of heart once the rings went on and the honeymoon was finished?

“Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.”

Shame entered Lizzie’s face, head dipping to stare down at the floor while her arms wrapped around herself. 

“It’s not personal.”

“You hate her.” He accused, feeling his own resentment and bitterness begin to burn in his eyes. 

“No, I don’t! But she has you and it’s not fair! I’ve been in your life longer. We created a child together—”

Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened and grew glassy with tears, and he immediately felt bad. But God, he didn’t know how else to make her understand…

Silence hung heavily between the two of them

“Tommy, I love you,” Lizzie said in a quiet voice. He could hear the hope in it still. For fuck’s sake, woman, he thought, closing his eyes. In his head, he debated whether or not to tell her that she didn’t. That you couldn’t love someone who you didn’t really know. Who you didn’t understand.

He opened his eyes, and forced himself to meet her hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry.” He saw something in Lizzie crack at the words, but forced himself to go on, despite the self loathing he felt for hurting her. “I love Lucy. If you’re forcing me to choose between you two, it’s going to her, Lizzie. It always will be. That does not mean you aren’t important, or unwelcome here. We want you and the kids here with us. We already have an arrangement sorted out. One you agreed to, remember? And we’re willing to make adjustments and compromises here and there, within reason. But I love her and that isn’t going to change. It’s up to you if you can make peace with that or not.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then we need to talk about other options.”

She looked at him as if he’d just hit her. 

Swiping a hand across his brow, brushing his fringe to the side, he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling the need to try to somewhat soften the blow. “Look, give it some time before you make a decision. Let yourself get adjusted. It might not be as bad as you think.”

The clock on the mantle chimed. Lizzie was still hugging herself, looking seconds away from tears.    

“I have to go,” Tommy said. “I promised her.” He looked deep into Lizzie’s eyes, begging her to understand. But she said nothing, just staring at him with wounded, hate-filled eyes. He sighed. There was nothing really left to be said. As he walked past her to get to the door, he reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She winced away from his touch, turning her back to him. Tommy felt his heart sink at her pain but kept on moving, figuring that it might be better to leave her alone. 

He went to the library door, opening and stepping through it. Right before he closed it behind him, he heard the sounds of Lizzie starting to cry.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, considering, and then retracted, slipping back into his pocket. With hasty footsteps he retreated away from the library, heading towards Lucy. And away from the sounds of Lizzie’s heartbreak.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at herself miserably in the mirror. Hands flexing into fists against the tabletop of the vanity, she was half tempted to smash the reflection of the pathetic, pale, ugly girl staring back at her. She had finished wiping off her makeup, scrubbing perhaps a tad too aggressively at the sensitive skin of her face. And then she’d caught herself fluffing at her hair and adjusting the lay of her lacy red nightgown, and felt so damn stupid. What was the point? He wasn’t coming.

Lizzie had obviously changed her mind about being alright with everything. And maybe Tommy had too. It was over. 

Her eyes squeezed shut painfully at the thought, hands bracing on the edges of the basin in front of her until her knuckles turned white. How ridiculous she felt, to have ever thought that the arrangement they’d made with Lizzie would work. 

Should she start packing her things now, or wait until he gave her the official order to get out of his house?

She opened her eyes, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling, swallowing down tears. It was amazing just how quickly everything had fallen apart.

Unable to stand looking at herself any longer, she abandoned the sink to shuffle her way into the bedroom. 

Golden light from the lamps set on the two nightstands on either side of the bed illuminated the room. Shivers wracked down Lucy’s spine from a chill that she was pretty sure was the result of a draft somewhere by the window. The staff had tried to keep the layout of the room the same as it had been in her previous quarters, but everything was just more cramped in the smaller space. Lucy was suddenly struck with a stab of claustrophobia; the feeling settling nauseatingly alongside the tightness of unshed tears already in her throat. 

Rubbing at her forehead, she took a step towards the bed, just reaching for the sash on her dressing gown to remove it when the door opened. 

Tommy’s expression was tightened with stress and exhaustion when he first stepped into the room, but it softened when his eyes landed on her. Features relaxing, a small smile found its way onto his face while he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Took me a while to find you. I had to ask Frances what room you were in.” He took a step forward, head cocking. “What are you doing all the way out here in this part of the house? No one comes to this wing much except for the maids.”

“Lizzie moved me here. She had the servants switch around my things during the wedding and reception.”

He frowned, inching even closer to her, eyes taking in the dimly lit bedroom. “You don’t have to stay in this room just because she says so.”

“It’s fine. It might be for the best that she and I aren’t that close to each other anyway.”

He reached out and touched her face, angling her head up so she was looking at him rather than the floor. His thumb traced the shape of her lips, eyebrow quirking slightly. “You didn’t think that I would come.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, just a simple statement. Lucy shrugged.

“She seemed very intent on keeping you with her.”

“I made you a promise.”

“You’ve made promises to her too.”

His head tilted. “I’d rather keep the ones I’ve made to you.” 

He made a move to kiss her, palms coming to rest on her hips, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. Her eyes searched his face, not even entirely sure what she was looking for. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, voice suddenly very hoarse. 

“Do what?”

She looked at him sadly. “Cheat on your wife.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure if what we’re doing really counts as cheating…”

“I doubt Lizzie sees it that way.”

His gaze lowered, thumbs beginning to rub circles into her waist. “She just needs time to adjust.”

“Tommy, she’s changed her mind. It’s obvious. She wants a real marriage with you.”

“That’s her problem. We both did our part to make sure that she knew what she was signing up for. She really has no leg to stand on if she’s shocked about it now.”

“Was she upset when you left to come see me?”

He didn’t answer, gaze darting away again.

“She was, wasn’t she?”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“My presence is the reason she’s getting her heart broken–”

“No.” Something sharpened stubbornly in his eyes, his grip tightening on her. “Don’t you dare try to put responsibility for Lizzie’s bad decision making onto yourself. She knew I wasn’t going to stop being with you. And she agreed to marry me anyway. That was her choice. We didn’t force her into it.” He cupped her face urgently. “It isn’t your fault if she’s miserable.”

“It’s hard not to feel like it isn’t…” 

“I know. I know. But love…even if you weren’t a factor at all, I doubt that I would be faithful to Lizzie.” He shot her a sheepish look. “I don’t love her. At least not the way that she wants me to. If anyone’s to blame for her unhappiness, it’s me. Not you.”

She smoothed her hands along his chest, leaning forward until her forehead rested between his pecs. Tommy embraced her tightly, rubbing her back.

“I thought you might’ve changed your mind too,” she mumbled. He drew back only far enough to look into her eyes. That stubbornness that she’d grown so fond of, despite how exasperating it sometimes was, had taken root in his blue irises. 

“I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not going to leave you or stop loving you.” Up and down, his thumb stroked across her cheek while his palm cradled it. His face was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breaths on her skin. The stubbornness in his eyes had transformed into earnestness. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, and her voice broke on her next words. “But maybe there’s no room for me…”

“Of course there is. Of course there is; there will always be room for you in my life.”

“Tommy,” she sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world was resting upon her. The guilt so encompassing she felt that it might swallow her whole. “You have other priorities now. You have a wife and children. I can’t…”

His brows furrowed, eyes turning stern. “If you’re asking me to not make you a priority, that isn’t something that I can do,” he shifted closer, wiping a stray tear she hadn’t even realized had rolled down her cheek. “You’ll always be a priority to me.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m giving it to you anyway.”

She lifted both hands to rest on his face, throat constricting hard with emotion at his words. One of Tommy’s large palms landed on top of hers, squeezing her hand. Face turning, he pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. Then he tipped his head down, so their foreheads could touch. A few more tears leaked from her eyes.

“This has been harder than I thought it would be.”

His strong hands pressed into the middle of her back, encouraging her to press herself closer to him. “Yeah,” he agreed, then looked away, clearing his throat. Lucy frowned at the change of expression in his eyes, something ashamed and deeply guilty entering them. 

“Tommy?”

“I feel like I’ve been unfaithful to you.” 

“What? Love, no…I said it was okay.”

He breathed in deeply. “Still. It was awful without you being there.”

Her thumb stroked the length of his cheek, raising up on her toes to get closer to him. “You didn’t betray me,” she said, lips almost ghosting over his. Tommy pressed himself even more firmly against her, leaning forwards and kissing the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. He raised his face enough to brush his nose with hers. 

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No, of course not. I was just scared you might change your mind about us, that’s all.”

His eyes softened, hands caressing her. “I would never. I love you.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I love you too.”

He kissed her tenderly, lips at first only brushing over hers before pressing more firmly, hands gripping her tighter. She sighed into his mouth, lips parting to him, arms coiling around his neck. When his kisses migrated from her lips to her neck, and his hands started to palm at her needily, she let out a small, desperate sound, latching onto his shoulders while he started to fumble with the strings at the back of her nightgown. 

“Oh, I missed you,” he whispered, kisses growing more urgent against her skin. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

She could only moan softly and tilt her head back as he pressed his lips to her chest, right under her clavicle. Fingers fumbling with the buttons holding his waistcoat closed, all the while she let him pull her nightgown from her body. His hands moved to help her in undressing him, shedding all his upper layers and drawing her back into the circle of his arms.  

He purred when his hand slipped up from her waist to cup one of her bare breasts, her breath hitching at his thumb running across her nipple. 

“My beautiful girl,” he tucked his face into her neck, kissing from behind her ear all the way down the column of her throat. “Come here,” he murmured, as if she were not already pressed flush against him. But his hands still tried to draw her in even closer.

Her chest tightened, fingers stroking along the back of his head. “You know, I was worried for a while that you didn’t want me anymore.”

He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.”

A moan shivered from her lungs, lips parting so that when his mouth descended on hers, his tongue entered her mouth with ease. He kissed her harder, a hand on the back of her neck while the other curled over her hip, beginning to walk her backwards towards the bed. He moaned deeply while she palmed him through his trousers, hips twitching.

She let him press her back onto the bed, him taking but a moment to unfasten his trousers and slip them and his underwear off before joining her. He crawled on top of her, slotting himself between her legs and kissing her hungrily. Lucy cradled his jaw in her hand, nuzzling at him while he explored her mouth before beginning to move down her body, spending time palming and sucking on her breasts, tracing the scars that marked her body with his lips, and then seeking out her cunt with his mouth and thick fingers. With clever, practiced movements he coaxed her into arching her back and gripping his hair, thighs twitching in response to his movements.

Maybe it was selfish, or signified something else wrong with her, but any and all guilt–or thought at all, for that matter--regarding Lizzie vanished the second that he kissed her. It was wondrous, really, how she could feel so inconsequential and insecure one moment, only for those feelings to almost entirely evaporate when he touched her. 

Terrible as it may have been, her guilt for what she was doing to Lizzie did not outweigh the desire, love, and loyalty she held for him.

She cried out when he added a second finger inside of her, crooking it and pumping rhythmically while his tongue toyed with her clit. Her nails scraped against his scalp while her head fell back against the pillows, thighs twitching. All it took was a strategic curling of his fingers inside her, and she came with a hoarse cry. 

Perhaps it was good that they were tucked away in such a far corner of the house. At least they didn’t need to worry about being quiet. 

Tommy brought her down from her high gingerly, withdrawing his fingers and pecking her inner thighs before rising up onto his arms, hovering over her. He wetted his lips, dark tendrils of hair falling across his forehead, pretty blue eyes wide and gazing down at her softly. He was so beautiful it nearly made her want to weep, stunned that someone so gorgeous would ever even consider wasting their time on her.   

As if reading her mind, he smoothed a hand over her hair, cupping the side of her face and drawing their foreheads together. “You’re perfect,” he said, eyes roving over her, dropping his weight onto her. Not enough to crush her beneath him, but enough so that she could feel every inch of his torso pressing into her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her brows drew in on each other. “Yes, you do.”

The look he gave he was affectionate yet somber. She stretched her head up to kiss him. 

“You do,” she insisted. “I love you. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I love you too,” he said hoarsely, burying his face in her shoulder, hissing as he reached down to guide his cock to her entrance. “I’ll always love you.”

She drew in a harsh breath as he sank into her, filling her completely with a singular deep thrust. Tommy made a sound of intense relief, face nuzzling deeper into the crook of her neck. Lucy latched onto him tightly, a sharp mewl leaving her lips, solace washing over her potently once they were fully joined. Hand seeking out hers, he entwined their fingers together as he started to move.

The thrusts he gave her were slow and deep, grunts and praises passing his lips against the shell of her ear. Lucy clung to his back, legs wrapping around him. Her head was, finally, blissfully empty of any and all thoughts save for the pleasure he was giving her. All she knew was the heavy comfort of him on top of her, and the stretch of his large cock fitting snugly inside her. 

“Tommy…” she spoke without really being aware that her lips were moving. “My Tommy…”

“Yours, all yours…” he agreed, still moving. Her eyes rolled in her head at a particularly deep thrust, trying to comprehend how in the hell she had managed to survive a whole week with him. Without this.

They belonged together; and their bodies knew it. Their coupling was as natural as breathing. His pelvis ground into her clit, making her see stars, and when she pulled his hair to lift his face from where he was sucking marks into her neck, he growled. Instantly, he knew what she wanted, kissing her open mouthed and desperate.

“Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Hips moving half frantically to meet each of his thrusts, Lucy scratched her nails down his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. 

She teetered on the edge, wobbling like a trinket about to fall off the edge of a desk. Her walls squeezed and fluttered around him in warning, and when he reached between them to brush his thumb across her clit, she howled and clung to him for dear life. The barely-there touch was enough to send her careening off over the edge completely. Eyes rolling in her head, back arching, ankles pressing down harder into the small of his back, she came violently.   

Tommy shouted, grabbing onto her hard enough to bruise, but that was okay. She was holding onto him just as tightly. His cock twitched, then throbbed hard, and a contented moan emitted from low in his chest as he started to cum right after her.  

He thrusted a handful more times, prolonging both their orgasms and spilling languidly into her before coming to a stop, face pressed into her shoulder, back heaving up and down with exertion. Lucy realized that they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Had they really been going at it that hard? She had been too lost in having him again to notice. 

She wrapped her arms around his back, nuzzling at the side of his head while they both caught their breath. He was trembling a little against her, face turning to kiss her shoulder a few times before pulling out and moving to lay beside her.

It fully hit her then. Seeing him return to filling the space that for the past week had been left vacant was enough to do it. He had come back to her. He had kept his promise. She wasn’t going to lose him. 

Tears clogged in her throat, emotion almost entirely overwhelming her. Tommy’s arm hooked around her, pulling her into his chest. Immediately she snuggled into the warmth of his bare skin, head laying atop the patch of hair between his pectorals. His fingers stroked along the ridges of her spine, cheek moving to rest on the top of her head. Every once in a while his face turned to press kisses against her hairline. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly after a moment. Lucy dragged in a shaky breath. 

“I think I will be.”

“Don’t worry about Lizzie. I expect that things will be as they always have with her. She’ll have her good days and bad. But you don’t have to spend time with her or deal with her if you don’t want to. She’s my problem. Not yours.”

“Your problems are my problems,” she said, adjusting her head on his chest to peer up at him. He gave her a tiny smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He swept a curl behind her ear. “It’s going to be alright,” he decreed, shifting to relax more properly on the pillows, holding her tightly. As if to remind them both they were just as inseparable as they had been before he made his vows to Lizzie. Lucy closed her eyes, clinging to that indescribable, unbreakable bond between them, letting the presence of it soothe and lull her into believing him. “I promise,” he added.

And Tommy never broke his promises to her. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy watched Lizzie with a mounting sense of terror building in her chest. Hands fidgeting with each other earnestly, her heart leapt upwards to pound relentlessly in her throat. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she ought to leave; before Lizzie noticed her. 

And yet she didn’t move, frozen in place, just watching as Lizzie poured over a book propped up in her lap, steam from the teacup perched on the nearby table curling up into the air. 

She had slipped away while Tommy was busy returning all the calls he’d missed during his absence. They had risen early that morning, first for another round of sex, and then to begin getting him caught up on everything. There was a small mountain of papers for him to sign, and that was just for things to do with his position in Parliament. 

Forcing herself to be brave, Lucy took a step forward. “Lizzie?”

She looked up, expression immediately souring. Lucy gulped at the chilly reception, but forced her features to remain in an expression of pleasantness, her voice warm.  

“We didn’t really get to talk yesterday.”

“No, we didn’t,” Lizzie returned her gaze to the book in her lap, her tone greatly suggesting that the lack of conversation had been by design. 

“Well…did you have fun? In Paris, I mean.”

Lizzie looked up at her again. “Yes.” Her shoulders heaved with a sigh. “And now it’s over.”

She couldn’t bring herself to continue to hold that gaze. Not when it was filled was such heartbreak and accusation. Instead, she dropped her head to stare down at her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.”

“It’s…it’s what we all agreed to…”

Lizzie scoffed, slamming the cover of her book shut with a light thwap, placing it on the table and standing. 

“Lizzie,” she brought more firmness into her voice when she started to walk away from her. Lizzie froze, back stiffening. When she turned to face her, she had her chin tilted up, only adding to the intimidation of her already considerable height. Lucy gentled her voice, aware that barking at her was likely to get her nowhere. “You and I have to figure out a way to deal with each other.” 

Lizzie’s throat worked, but still she said nothing. 

“I know that you want me to leave…but…I told him I’d stay. I can’t just abandon him and Charlie,” Lucy tried desperately to explain. 

“So devoted to each other,” Lizzie sneered, shaking her head from side to side. “You don’t care who else you both hurt because of it.”

“I do care.” She took a step forward. “I do. That’s why we asked you so many times if you were sure about this, Lizzie,” her voice cracked with frustration. “Why did you say yes if you weren’t?”

Lizzie’s lips pressed together, head turning towards the windows. Lucy felt her shoulders slump. 

“Did you really expect things to change, once you got back?” That thought had been plaguing her since last night. The question. Did Lizzie plan this along? Did she intend to trap him? Did she know from the very first moment that she accepted the proposal that she was going to change her mind about letting them be together? “You know who he is, Lizzie. You’ve known for years. Did you really think that he would just transform overnight into what you wanted him to be?”

“He changed for Grace.”

“Yeah, but that was different, he–” she cut herself off sharply. He was in love with her, she had been about to say. Lizzie shot her a wounded expression. Lucy looked away. It felt like too cruel of a thing to actually speak aloud. Even if it was the truth. “Even then he couldn’t change the core of who he is,” she decided to say instead. “And if he knew you were going to change your mind, he would never have married you. You know that.”

“Yes,” Lizzie whispered. Lucy took another cautious step towards her. “I have a feeling that you’d leave, if I asked you to. If I really pushed hard enough. To try to…assuage your guilt and make things easier for him. Is that right?” 

“Probably.” She admitted, feeling a lump starting to grow in her throat. “Are you asking me to leave?”

Lizzie’s chin had dipped, face turning down to the floor. “If I did, and you left, he’d go after you. He’d bring you back home, and then he’d divorce me. Just like he would divorce me if I asked him outright to choose between you and me.” A spasm went through her chest. “I know…I know that there’s no competition between us where I’ll come out on top. Not in his eyes.”

“You’re the mother of his child,” Lucy inched a little closer to her, wanting to reach out, to touch her arm, to maybe even give her a hug. But she was too afraid that any physical contact between them would be unwelcome. 

Lizzie finally looked up at her with teary eyes. “So are you.”

“It’s not the same–”

“To him it is.” She sniffled, hands gripping at the material of her dress. “I’m not asking you to leave.”

Lucy nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can keep out of your way, if you’d prefer. I’ll stick to my wing of the house. We don’t have to eat together, or spend evenings with each other. You won’t have to see me much at all. The only thing I ask is that I get to have some time with the kids.” 

“Tommy would never agree to you being excluded like that.”

“He would if I asked him to.” He would kick up a fuss about it at first, she was sure, but in the end he’d relent. So long as it was her who asked him to do it. Fixing Lizzie with a careful look, Lucy tilted her head, bracing herself. “Is that what you want, Lizzie?”

Lizzie’s lips had started to tremble, chin wobbling. She suddenly raised a hand to her face, pressing her palm to her eyes as the tears welling in them finally spilled over. “I don’t know what I want,” she started to sob. Lucy reached out for her, touching lightly at one of her shaking shoulders. When she didn’t jerk away from the touch, she shuffled close to her, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. 

“That’s okay,” she tried to soothe, feeling a little lost as far as what to do or what sort of comfort would be welcome from her. “You don’t have to decide right now. The three of us are just going to have to feel things out for a little while. Figure out what works best for all of us.” 

Lizzie nodded, head dropping to rest in the crook of her shoulder. Lucy rubbed at her back. “I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I know…I know that I don’t have nearly as much to be upset about as you do. Not even close, but, this isn’t exactly how I would have preferred for things to go either.”

Lizzie raised her head, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. “No?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You think that I wanted to have to watch the love of my life have a family with someone else?” Her fingers squeezed around Lizzie’s arms. “You’re his wife. I’ll only ever be his mistress.” We’ll never have a full life together, she swallowed around the unspoken words and the hurt they inflicted. Despite what Tommy had said, about eventually divorcing Lizzie, she couldn’t help but be skeptical that such a thing would ever actually come to pass.

Lizzie’s hands rested on her waist very lightly, and Lucy leaned closer to her until their foreheads touched. 

“I’m sorry we can’t love you the way you want us to,” she whispered, feeling Lizzie shudder and sob a little more at the words. “But we do care about you, Lizzie. Please know that. We do care.”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

She let her go, and Lizzie drew from her, space once more finding its way between them. Lizzie sank slowly into a nearby armchair, limbs slumping like a marionette that had just had its strings snipped. Lucy pulled out a handkerchief that she passed to her to dab at her eyes.

“Take some time to adjust,” she said as she watched her. “Maybe…maybe it’ll get better.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

She forced half a smile to pull at one side of her lips. “I’m sure that you can find some other benefits to your life as Mrs. Shelby that don’t involve me and Tommy. With just the house, the kids, and the foundation I imagine you can keep yourself quite busy.”

“Yeah.��� Her voice was monotone, not full of much hope; the wall that had briefly come down while she cried in Lucy’s arms starting to rise back up. Brick after brick being placed between them.  

“Do you want me to leave you alone now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Struck with a sudden feeling of boldness, she bent down, pressing a quick kiss to Lizzie’s forehead before doing as asked and going to the door. 

She found Tommy still in his office, just setting the phone down. He smiled when he looked up and saw her, standing and walking around his desk to meet her. 

“Where did you sneak off to?”

“I went to go talk to Lizzie.”

His smile dropped. “Oh?” At her nod, he put his arms around her. “How did it go?”

Shrugging, she rested her head on his chest. “She didn’t shout at me, so I suppose it can be considered a positive interaction.” She craned her head up to look at him. “This isn’t going to be easy for her, Tommy.”

“No,” he agreed with a sigh, kissing her forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

“She might never adjust. Not fully. This most recent conversation between us went alright, but the next could be awful with how all over the place she can be.”

“I know. It’s like living with a fucking pendulum.” He sighed, rubbing her back. “We’ll look at getting a place in London like we talked about, eh? Give us somewhere to go hide out during the times when it gets really bad.”

“Do you think that it would be better if I lived somewhere else? I could get another flat in Small Heath…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It might be worth thinking about.”

He drew back enough to cup her cheeks. “You’re staying with me. You’re living with me, wherever I am. End of discussion.”

“Stubborn mule.” But she was fighting back a fond smile.

“Oi!”

Grin blooming, she rested her chin on the center of his chest. “It’s just something to consider. If things don’t get better…”

“I’d go mad in this house without you,” he said, shaking his head, giving her a kiss and then taking her hand. “C’mon. I’ve got more calls still to make. Mr. Martenson kept me on the phone for thirty bloody minutes.”

“And what have I got to do with that?” she asked, letting him pull her along with him. He collapsed back into his chair behind his desk.

“To keep my lap warm,” he grinned, and promptly pulled her squealing into his arms to sit upon his thighs.

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[egophiliac]

he did it! 🐍 and it only took...uhhh...well, there probably could've been less punches, but why hold back!

PUNCHES FOR EVERYONE

[teddybeartoji]

sampo called me a god thereforeeeeeee he's about to get his back blown out:333333333333333