#anyway none of his business maybe he saw him in a bar

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[dearestro]

Flirtatious Feelings Part 2

Summary: Reader has just started working at Princeton-Plainsboro and after seeing the cute older doctor. Well, she decides to have some fun...who knew it would turn into more?

Warnings: Innuendos and crude language.

Gif is not mine. I found it on Google. If it is yours and you do not want me to use it please tell me, and I'll take it down!

Part 1

Your Pov

"Should we make this interesting?" I asked as we set up the pool table. He paused and looked up at me. 

"How so?" I smirked at his cautiousness.

"Mmm...winner gets a prize?"

"Yeah...ok." He chuckled softly.

We had finished playing pool (I won) and left the bar. James was walking me to my apartment and we stopped just outside my door. I was about to go in when I stopped to turn and look at him.

"I forgot about my prize!" I feigned a gasp. 

"Right! Let's say....twenty bucks?" He started to pull out his wallet, but I shook my head and laughed.

"Or...we could do this?" I pulled his face towards mine and kissed him gently enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. After a few heavenly seconds I pulled back, he seemed to linger in the air, eyes closed. I smiled. "Thanks for the date." I said before entering my apartment and closing the door behind me. My back hit the door before I turned to peer out the keyhole. I laughed at the sight outside of the door. James was doing a goofy but cute victory dance. I opened the door and just watched as I leaned on the doorway. He suddenly turned and saw me.

"Can we forget you just saw that?" He blushed as he stopped dancing. I laughed.

"Nope." I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before going back inside. "Goodnight, Jimmy!" I called to him.

"I regret nothing!" He shouted through the door, I could only imagine how crazy he must've seemed to the neighbors as I laughed to myself at the man's antics. 

Wilson's Pov 

I sat in my office thinking about last night when House barged in.

"How was your date?" I frowned at him in confusion.

"How did you-"

"Oh, cut the crap. A little birdy told me. Besides, you are way too happy for seven in the morning." I rolled my eyes at him. "So, did you score? Is that hot bod just as sexy naked as it is clothed?"

"That is none of your business." I said apparently a little too defensively. 

"So that's a no. What did little Wilson not feel up to it? Doesn't work like he used to? Or did she finally snap to her senses and realize you're not her type?" I scoffed and walked over to him.

"I'll have you know my-" I quickly cut myself off as I saw her walking towards my office. 

"Your what? Your penis?"

"Who's penis?" I felt my face heat up, and I could only imagine how red I must've been. I tried to say something anything, but House beat me to it.

"Wilson's." She looked between the two of us before quickly hiding her shock.

"Right...anyways..." She averted her eyes and slightly blushed at the situation.

"I'll be going now. You know how it is. Patients to ignore and people to hide from." He finally left but not before turning at the doorway and giving me an over exaggerated wink and thumbs up. I rolled my eyes. In moments like these, I wish he would drop dead...or that I would. Either or.

Your Pov

Upon hearing what House said, I felt my cheeks burn up, and I looked to the ground. Thankfully, he left soon enough. I was still concentrating on my shoes when James spoke up. 

"You'll have to e-excuse him. He's insane." The corner of my mouth twitched up in amusement. "When he said- he meant-" I looked up to find him struggling to find the words, but I quickly cut him off.

"It’s ok. We don't have to talk about 'it' Dr. Wilson." I said, referring to the previous conversation I had walked in on. I smiled slightly at him, trying to ease the tension, but his face fell. "Maybe we should get to work?"

"Yes! Of course." He said quickly composing himself.

Wilson's Pov 

After a long morning it was finally lunch. I ate in silence waiting for House to inevitably join me. After all how could he possibly make the day worse?

He eventually came and sat down across from me. We continued to sit in silence until he made a move for my sandwich, but I quickly moved it out of his reach and continued to eat.

"What? You're mad?" He asked as if it was absurd to be upset with him. I ignored him. "The silent treatment? Really? What are you, a woman?" I rolled my eyes at his sexist comment.

"You don't get it, do you? I really like her, and all you do is embarrass me." He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "No! I'm serious! You know what she called me after you left? 'Dr. Wilson'." He let out an over exaggerated gasp.

"Noo! She called you your name! What a bitch!" I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm.

"Yesterday she was calling me Jimmy and kissing me. Today, nothing!"

"And you blame me?"

"Yes!" I shouted a little too loud as I threw down my sandwich. Everyone in the cafeteria looked towards our table. He scoffed and was about to protest when someone sat next to me. I looked to my right to see her.

"Hey, sweetheart!" She leaned over to kiss my cheek. I was stunned. 

"I'll leave you two to talk. See ya Jimmy!" House said as he took off with the remainder of my lunch. I swallowed as I gained the courage to turn and face her.

"'Sweetheart'?" I asked hesitantly. She paled.

"Yeah...if-if that's ok, of course." I nodded.

"It-it's great! I'm just...a little confused..." She quirked a brow. "I mean, this morning, it was all, 'Dr. Wilson' this and 'Dr. Wilson' that...I-I thought that that meant last night was a-a fling...of sorts." I stammered as a look of understanding came over her.

"No!" She said quickly. "I mean no, I don't want it to have just been a fling." She took a deep breath. "I really like you it's just this morning we were working, and I guess I thought it best to remain professional? I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you, James." My face flushed as I realized my assumption was wrong. 

"No, it's ok! I uh... I should've figured that out." I looked down at my lap trying to avoid her gaze, but she took my chin in her hand and made me look at her.

"That's alright. I probably should've clarified earlier, especially since it was just the two of us, and this is so...new." I relaxed under her touch.

"Maybe we could talk it over? Tonight? If that's not too soon..." I hastily added trying not to seem desperate.

"I can't. I have plans." I frowned a little at the rejection. "But I'm free tomorrow." I grinned. 

"Perfect! After work?" I asked. She leaned in and pecked my lips.

"Of course." Her hand dropped to the table. "I saw House take your lunch..." I grimaced a little at the reminder. "Do you want to share mine?" 

Your Pov 

I lay in bed, staring at the man across from me. He was sleeping so peacefully. 

"Honey, you're staring." He murmured, his eyes still closed. I rolled my eyes. "What are you thinking about?" He opened his eyes and looked at me. I smiled and put my hand on his cheek.

"The first week we met." He laughed lightly.

"That's not good. I was a total dork. I still can't believe you went out with me." I chuckled and patted his cheek.

"Don't worry, Jimmy. You're still a goofy dork." He rolled his eyes at my response.

"Gee thanks."

"Do you remember that conversation I walked in on? My second day?" He nodded. "Well, now that we're married...I can personally vouch that there is nothing 'wrong' with your penis." His face turned red, and I kissed his nose.

"You-you heard that conversation?" 

"House told me soon after, but I didn't want to embarrass the hot guy I had just met, so I kept it to myself." He shook his head in disbelief. 

"I'm gonna kill him." I laughed as he blushed furiously. 

[dandelions-143]

This is my first skz x reader I’m doing. I am still learning so forgive any mistakes. It’s also very very short!!

Just Friends

Find others here: Masterlist

Pairing: Minho x Gn!reader

Wk: 695

Genre: soft/sweet one-shot

Warning: none

Summary: Minho and you have been best friends for years. He decides to cook for you to cheer you up on a dreary day.

Requests: open

You sat looking out of your bedroom window that faces the busy street just a few feet below. It had been raining all day which ruined your plans to go out with friends that afternoon and have a picnic.

A little somber you leaned forward to rest your head against the cool glass. Your eyes watching the people bustling about below. Some beneath umbrellas, some facing the heavy raindrops head on. Just then your eyes catch sight of a man walking across the street towards your building.

He was carrying a few large bags and had a very familiar maroon hat on, shielding a good view of his face but you already knew exactly who it was. Your best friend Minho. You excitedly got up and hurriedly walked to your front door before he even had a chance to appear.

It only took a few minutes and here he came. When he saw you standing in your door way a sweet smile spread across his face causing you to smile in return. “What are you doing?” You ask as he steps passed you with a quick kiss to your cheek and heads right for your kitchen.

“Well plans got canceled so I decided to bring the picnic to you.” Minho glanced your way, his smile returning once again when he caught your eye. You walked over to him and began to help him unpack things.

There were all kinds of yummy fruits and veggies. Noodles, spices, and meats. Broths and even a small container of sushi. “Are we going to have a feast? We’re cooking all of this?” You asked curiously and leaned your cheek on his shoulder as he was a bit taller than you.

Minho turned his catlike eyes on you, “no, you’re going to relax and I am going to cook for you. Dinner and desert and we are going to eat and drink some wine and just enjoying each other’s company.” You smiled and shrugged, “okay, I can definitely do nothing. I like watching you cook anyway.”

“Why, is it attractive?” Minho gave you a sexy little smirk but broke character with a small laugh when he couldn’t ignore the cringe any longer. You giggle and sit down across the small bar from him. “Maybe..”

You two made soft conversation while Minho cooked, the aromas of his work filling your tiny apartment quickly. You talked about friends and work. Just life in general. All the while you both were stealing lingering glances at one another. Blushing a bit deeper than usual whenever your eyes would meet. Like an unspoken language between you two.

Soon the food was ready and you helped him spread a blanket out in your living room. You both set out all the food and then you settled down on the floor as well. Minho came to sit beside you and he filled your plate for you then his own.

The sky began to open up and the rain poured down even harder making the atmosphere a bit more cozy. Minho raised his glass of wine. “So you know what today is?” He asked you. His dark brown eyes watching you curiously and a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his pouty lips.

You bit your bottom lip in thought, “um… Thursday?…” you giggled and shrugged your shoulders. “I’m not so sure, what is today?”

Minho pushed his bangs back from his face and leaned a bit closer to you. “It’s our three year anniversary as friends.” Your eyes grew wide in shock that he even remembered the exact day you two became friends. “Wow.. really?”

You felt a little guilty for not thinking of that but before you could say anything else he reached over and pushed your hair back gently so he could see your eyes better.

“And hopefully this year we can become more than just friends?” He asked softly. It was barely above a whisper as if he was suddenly too shy to speak. You instantly looked up with wide curious eyes. There was a soft pink blush blooming across Minhos cheeks as he kept eye contact with you waiting for your answer.

[staytinyville]

OUTLAW (8)

ATEEZ ot8 x Reader

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None (Unless you wanna count Wooyoung. He's spicy in this story)

The time came around again when you had to go out and stock up on groceries for the home. Your mother had been the one to ask you seeing as you had more free time on your hands with Yeosang and Seonghwa taking over some of the chores that only you and your parents were able to tend to. So now it was that time in the week where she would give you a list to go out to the weekend market to get things for the family. 

“Would you like someone to accompany you?” Your sister had asked you before you left the lobby. 

“No.” You shook your head. “I should be fine.” You gave her smile to calm her a bit. 

You knew by the face she pulled she sometimes worried about the gangs that the men at the bar would bring up. While it was the middle of the day and it was rare for outlaws to come in, she was still your sister. However for you, you knew you had nothing to worry about when it came to this so-called gang. 

“I'll accompany you.” A male’s voice rang out. Jongho was buttoning up his vest, the metal deputy star on his chest on display as he walked closer. “I was heading out anyways.”

“Thank you, Jongho.” You told him with a smile, eyes almost closing from how wide your lips stretched. 

“Give me a moment to get my things.” He turned back around towards the hallway, moving out of sight. 

“What are you doing?” Your sister’s question made you turn to her. She was looking at you with a scrunched up face, almost as if she was looking at a completely different person. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

“I thought dad told you to butter Yeosang up.” She proclaimed. “Also you have never talked to a man and suddenly you have three claiming to be your friend and wanting to take you out. What are you doing?” She repeated. 

“Nothing.” You frowned. “I swear.”

She had raised her eyebrows, her face showing that she wasn’t one to be fooled by what you said. You knew she was suspicious already since the day she found you in the deputies room, but the way she was looking at you now made you feel icky.

“Don't look at me like that.” You shook your head.

“I don't want others to think things of you, (Y/N).” She sighed. 

Your shoulders slumped when you realized what it was she was talking about. You knew what they said about the women who didn’t marry by a certain age or saw them with men all the time. They were often talked about by the other ladies, criticized for living the way they wanted. You never spoke to one of those kinds of women, but you oftentimes did wonder why it was they reached that point. 

However, hearing it from your own sister that she was worried others would see you the same way meant that she was thinking it. It bothered you, but you knew she didn’t mean any harm by it.

“And if they do, that’s on them.” You shook your head. “My business is my business. I'm not roped down to anyone but myself.”

“Ready.” Jongho stopped the conversation, giving you sister a nod of his head. 

You gave her a weak smile from over your shoulders, turning around to follow after the policeman. Like last time, he allowed you to walk out the door first, following in your steps at your side. Once more you took notice of the manners he had, moving you to the other side of the sidewalk. He took up the one where the carriages passed and the occasional vehicle. 

If he noticed your stare on him on the way to the market he didn’t ask you about it. But after a bit you realized you were looking for too long so you decided to start up a conversation. 

“I've noticed you and Yunho have been going out more.” You spoke to him. “How is Cromer?”

“It's a lot smaller than we're used to for sure.” He answered, keeping his eyes around his surroundings. “It has things that get us by though. Can't complain.” He shrugged. 

“Obviously.” You snorted. “The townsfolk need to survive. It's still growing so maybe one day it'll be a big city like you enjoy.” You grinned up at him. “Maybe when you retire.”

“I'll consider it.” He tried to fight off the smile. “I don't know what I'll do the day I get old and can't move.”

“You guys will rob the rich with walking sticks.” You laughed out loud. This got him to chuckle as well, looking down to the ground to avoid your stare. 

The bright metal of the deputy star on his vest caught your attention. It began to create questions in your head that you wanted to ask. But you knew better. They weren’t people who associated themselves with citizens. They weren’t going to answer questions you might have had. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. You always did have a mouth.

“I don't know if I'm allowed to ask but why are you doing this if you're a police officer? Won't you be tried for treason if you're caught?” You watched him shuffle his feet slowly, almost as though he wasn’t expecting your question. 

You weren’t surprised though. He did give you a weird look when you asked if you were allowed to even ask him that kind of question. He knew you weren’t someone who didn’t speak their mind however he was quick to notice there was a lot that you kept from asking. He figured it was because you were too scared to ask, in your head they are criminals. After Seonghwa had explained they weren’t nasty criminals, maybe you started to open up. 

He took a moment to think about his answer. The way he gazed at you made you internally shiver, as though he was sizing you up. You knew it was a personal question, but you wanted to take the chance. You saw how the four who were in close range to you seemed to let their guards down. They were relaxed when speaking with you. Maybe you had taken their friendliness as something akin to trust, and thinking it to yourself, you realized how stupid you sounded. 

“There was a heist we did a while ago that caused us to separate.” Your eyebrows raised when Jongho began the story.”We had to lay low for a year before we got the chance to meet up again. In that time, me and Yunho were put together and we joined the force to keep tabs on the boys easier. We've been there since because you'd be surprised at how much easier it is to get by without people noticing you.”

There was a light feeling in your chest that made you smile. You never thought about how much it meant to speak to someone on a level that was closely related to friendship. Girls and boys alike all distanced themselves from you when you had hit adulthood. They didn’t really speak much other than what they wanted to. 

When it came to your female friends they all thought differently to you and it would cause a rift between you all. With the men, they didn’t like that you were too independent so it caused them to find someone who would do what they wanted. 

Learning about Jongho and Yunho really made you miss companionship. The trust people had in one another with things about their past or their future endeavors with one another. And judging by the story Jongho gave you the boys were all super close. It almost made you jealous. 

“That actually sounds like a smart plan.” You nodded your head. 

“I'm sure you can come up with some elaborate plans too.” Jongho grinned. “The way you think is different.”

You rolled your eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah. I know.” 

Jongho noticed how you seemed to drop your shoulders and looked off to the side. He bumped his shoulders with yours lightly. “I like it.”

You paused to look up at him, your face heating up. You had stopped at the entrance of the market, hand gripping tightly onto the bags your mother had given you. 

“Wooyoung.” Jongho called over your shoulder. You turned around to see the bubbly man skipping his way over to the two of you. He had a bright grin on his face, eyes going over your form. 

“Hello, Jongho!” He greeted, coming to stand next to you. From the side you were on, you noticed the mole he had under his eye which only served as a reminder that any blemish the boys had only made them look like heavens creations. You curled your lips, looking off to the side as you felt your face heat up. 

Since when have you ever seen a man that good looking? What’s more, eight of them? Wow, you just now noticed how lonely you actually were.

“What brings you here?” Jongho furrowed his eyebrows. “Where are the others?”

“It's just me.” The man waved Jongho off. “Hongjoong sent me out to find some things for the camp. Besides, it's been a while since I've looked around. I wanna take in the sights.” He added with a grin. 

“Sweetheart.” He licked his lips, giving you a raise of his eyebrows.

“Hi, Wooyoung.” You politely told him, soft eyes on him. 

The look he got from you caused him to straighten his back, his grin widening. “How's work life going? Must be really nice to get to spend the day with the boys.”

“If that's what you think.” You laughed. 

The three of you began your trek into the market, your eyes glancing over all the produce that was available. You noticed Wooyoung only looked over certain things, not picking them up. But then again, he didn’t have a basket for his items. You sighed, thinking to yourself that you would make them bags. 

While looking over some vegetables, you felt a presence behind you. Just as you were about to turn around to ask the person to move back, you froze when you noticed Wooyoung had placed his head on your shoulder, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. 

You shivered, but turned back to look at the produce. The man squinted his eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist to get closer. When he noticed you weren’t going to acknowledge him, he decided he would be the one to make himself known. 

“Do I make you nervous?” You heard him whisper in your ear. 

“Should you?” You asked quietly, only moving your eyes to look at him at your shoulder. 

“Of course not.” He quickly pulled back, grinning. “I make most women nervous though.” He shrugged, feeling dejected about the new revelation of not having a woman swoon over him.

“She's not like most women.” Jongho smirked.

“So you all say.” He turned to you, moving some of your hair over your shoulder. “Come see me one day. I'd like to get a show.”

“A show of what?” You squint your eyes, jaw locking.

“Don't take his words to heart. It's just the way he talks.” Jongho told you.

“Like he's big game?” You asked, keeping an eye on Wooyoung who gave a teasing smile.

“You have no clue.” He smirked. “Wait 'till you meet Wooyoung from Aurora.”

“He's supposed to be better?” You tilted your head.

“He is insatiable.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred

[echo-goes-mmm]

Kitty Elliot AU #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: none

Elliot silently watched Ambrose prep for dinner, his tail tucked between his legs. 

“Do you like mushrooms?” Ambrose asked conversationally. 

Elliot said nothing, which seemed to be his default. Maybe he couldn’t, and wasn’t that a disturbing thought.

“I’m making oxtails,” he continued. “It takes a while to cook, but braised oxtail and mushrooms are one of my favorites.”

He glanced over at Elliot, who was still anxiously pressed against the lower cabinets. Poor thing.

Ambrose got the cast iron pot from storage. It was a large pot, one he used for stews.

“I like to use as much of an animal as I can,” he said, scraping the mushrooms into the pot with the back of his knife. “It’s more respectful, I think.”

He added the onions, garlic, and ground pepper. 

“Little Wood is a farming community, and they work so hard. I don’t want to waste their efforts, you know?”

___________________

Master was talking at him.

Elliot couldn’t really be bothered to pay attention, not with a knife in Master’s hands.

There were few things more dangerous than a Master’s hands. They hurt and grabbed and took things.

Besides, it didn’t matter that Master was chatting. Elliot had no permission- or want- to speak back, and the inane talk of ‘favorite food’ and ‘wastefulness’ meant nothing. They weren’t commands.

Elliot didn’t have a favorite anyway; he only ate what was given. 

The consequences of stealing weren’t worth it.

He watched as Master tore up herbs and ground up spices. It smelled good, and it made his mouth water.

Elliot swallowed his longing and carefully edged around Master and darted out the doorway.

And ran straight into James.

“Move, cat,” James huffed, shoving him aside and into the wood of the bar. It dug into his bruises, sending pains both sharp and dull through his body. Elliot bit back a yelp, and James passed by without a second glance. 

It was his fault for being in the way. 

He pulled himself away from the bar, wincing. Pets should be quiet and not underfoot. 

He made his way further into the dining room. It was empty for now, and the birds still sang. Sunlight came through the windows and looked so warm and inviting-

He hopped on the nearest window ledge, opting to sprawl out in the sun. He cushioned his head on his arms, and lay listening to the birds.

___________________

Elliot didn’t mean to doze off, but the sudden sound of a bell had him jolting awake.

The front door opened and closed with a ring of metal and his heart pounded.

But it was only a villager, come for dinner, no doubt. 

The air smelled strongly of tender beef and fresh bread, and he knew he wasn’t wanted here. Or at least, he didn’t want so many eyes on him.

He scrambled off the windowsill and slipped upstairs.

___________________

“Evening, Micheal.” Ambrose nodded at Mr. Tallow as he sat at the bar. “Dinner?”

“Please.”

Ambrose loaded a plate with beef, gravy, veggies, and a biscuit. He poured an ale, and slid the two across the bar.

“I saw a catfolk in the window.”

“He’s a guest.” He poured a few beers, handing it off to James to serve to a table.

“Little far from home, isn’t he?” Michael asked, taking a sip of ale. 

Ambrose shrugged, stacking empty glasses. “He hasn’t said.” He hasn’t said anything. At all. “How’s the wheat coming along?”

“Changing the subject, hm?” Micheal shook his head, teasing.

Ambrose shrugged, wiping down the bar. “I’d rather not gossip about my guests.”

“With that attitude, you’re just going to make people more curious. Is he staying long?”

Ambrose didn’t have many friends in town. Mostly just acquaintances; people who respected him but didn’t really know him.

Micheal was one of them. Maybe he could trust him to keep things discrete.

“Look, it’s really no one’s business. Elliot is shy, and scared, and he can stay as long as he wants.”

“Scared?” Micheal repeated, his brow furrowed.

“Just do me a favor and make sure it isn’t a big deal, yeah?”

Micheal nodded, taking another sip of ale. “You got it.”

___________________

Elliot curled up on the bed, waiting.

There must be at least a dozen people downstairs, talking and chatting and eating.

The smells were almost overwhelming, and the noise was palpable. He was sure he’d get used to it eventually, but it almost made him wish for the muffled quiet of the box.

Just the quiet. Not the box.

After hours of waiting, the people began to leave. Slowly but surely, the inn sounded empty, and Elliot’s stomach was once again wanting.

He poked his head out the door and listened. Nothing but Master and the sound of softly clinking dishes. Perfect.

Elliot quietly padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. No doubt Master would be clearing the plates, and if he were lucky, the scraps would be his dinner.

He knelt by the counter and waited for his owner.

___________________

Ambrose nearly dropped the stack of dishes he was carrying when he saw the cat boy on the floor.

His eyes were trained on the ground, but his twitching tail betrayed nervousness.

“Uh, hey,” he said, setting the dishes by the sink. “Did you come down for some dinner?”

Elliot looked up at him, whining. His hands came up to his chest, the picture of begging. His eyes glanced at the dirty plates on the counter, lingering on the scraps of food.

Definitely not. 

“Wait right here,” he said, turning to grab a clean plate. Elliot whimpered behind him, and Ambrose’s heart panged. 

“I’m not going to feed you bones and crumbs, sweetheart. You need more than that,” he reassured him, filling up the plate.

He glanced over at Elliot, who’s wide eyes were trained on the food in his hands.

“I don’t suppose you feel like sitting at a table this time?”

Elliot didn’t seem to hear him, too distracted.

Well, baby steps.

He put the plate on the floor in front of him, and Elliot eagerly looked up.

“Go ahead, it’s fine.”

Elliot used his hands at least, tearing apart the biscuits and sopping up the gravy with the bread.

Ambrose turned back to the sink, and started on the dishes.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @taterswhump @fleur-a-whump @otterfrost

@hellodecisionparalysis @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @risk606 @i-walk-on-the-dark-side @phoenixpromptsandstuff

[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 9 - And How Do You Manage? ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Content Warning in this chapter for: sexual harrasment, unwanted touching, and bad puns

You were sick. More so than usual.

Ever since that night with Alastor, you had a knot in your stomach that refused to go away.

Thankfully there was no shortage of work to keep your mind too busy to ruminate. Work with the hotel was smooth sailing. Music was planned, auditions wrapped up— as predicted Angel got a lead role— and rehearsals were underway. Between that and running your bar, you had no time to dwell on how Alastor caught you during a horrifically vulnerable and revealing moment.

You didn’t fixate on how tipsy you got and how that made you bold enough to initiate touch with Alastor. Or how he didn’t push you away and how amazing that felt. Not a single time. Especially not at night when you tried to sleep.

You certainly didn’t think about how whenever you and Alastor met in the hotel to review event progression he treated you no differently than before. How he behaved like his usual cordial, charming, irritating self, and never mentioned what happened that night.

You absolutely did not consider how he caught you at your lowest, knew your greatest shame, how he saw you… and nothing had changed.

Did you appreciate that? Or did you resent him for crossing that boundary with you without permission? Did that change the nature of your relationship with Alastor? Or was it foolish to consider that at all? Maybe it was foolish to think any of this mattered. Would ruminating on this drive you mad? Was that what Alastor wanted? Was that his game plan?

You didn’t know because you weren't even thinking about those things. None of these thoughts crossed your mind, not once, not one time.

And you definitely weren’t looking for Alastor as you, Charlie, and Vaggie assessed the hotel’s amphitheater. Nope! You were a businesswoman doing serious business things with professional-level focus.

The hotel’s amphitheater was beautifully grand: Plush red leather chairs wrapped around in a semicircle of the large golden stage with ornate apple designs and a tall satin curtain, white instead of red. Chandeliers made of hundreds of multicolored crystals sparkled overhead.

You couldn’t have imagined a better place for the performances. A part of you worried there were too many seats, but Charlie was confident every one would be filled. For whatever reason, you trusted her gut.

Crew members scurried around, cleaning or testing equipment. A flash of red in the corner of your eye; your head swiveled so fast your neck cracked. It was Niffty, scurrying along the seats and chasing some fuzzy, bug-like vermin with a sewing needle, getting close but no cigar.

“Hey, Niffty,” you called. She eyed the critter with a murderous intent before scrambling over with her usual big, happy, smile.

You fished out one of the knives from your garter and presented it to her. Instead of taking it, she stared wide-eyed in awe at you; The Lady of the Lake handing her Excalibur.

Charlie and Vaggie frowned with concern. Vaggie waved a hand in front of Niffty’s face. “Uh… Nifft? You good?”

Finally she spoke, her voice quiet. “Am I worthy?”

You played along. “The worthiest, my dear.”

Cackling, Niffty snatched the knife and jumped back into the hunt, weaving through crew members’ legs and knocking a few of them over. She chased the varmint onto the stage.

You cupped your hands, shouting, “Save me the bones!”

“Gotcha!”

Niffty swan dived off the stage and chased the critter out of the amphitheater, laughing like a mad woman drunk on power.

Oh god, what have you done?

You turned to the girls. “I’ll take full responsibility for the damages.”

“Oh, don’t worry about her.” Charlie waved away your concern, her smile uncertain. “I’m sure it’ll be fine—”

A distant shriek of pain— that could’ve been from anyone for any reason— confirmed her sentiment.

“Anyway!” Charlie clapped her hands and spun on her heels. “Things look like they’re going well here. How about we meet with Husk and go over the refreshment situation?”

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

The wall behind your headboard was thoroughly wrecked; peeling paint and crumbling plaster revealed the ragged brick underneath. Once again, your talent for picking lovers was a blessing and a curse.

Mostly a blessing.

You called some of your employees to have it fixed, and figured you might as well have the room repainted while they were at it. The whole process would be a few days at most.

Your home was made to entertain guests, not keep them. You needed a place to stay in the meantime, so you packed some clothes and your essentials and did what you promised yourself never to do… you checked into the Hazbin Hotel.

You could’ve stayed with Mimzy, it’s been a while since you’ve seen her. Or with Rosie and caught her up to date about all those things you weren’t ruminating on. You had plenty of acquaintances who would’ve let you crash on their couch for a few nights, but in the end you succumbed to impulses you knew would bite you in the ass later. You were a child told not to touch a hot stove… in this weird metaphor where you were also the mother telling yourself not to touch the hot stove.

You were your own worst enemy. Maybe your mother was right.

An energetic Charlie greeted you at the hotel, oh-so happy you’d be staying for a few days, followed by Angel, oh-so happy to finally have a night off from dealing with Valentino’s bullshit.

A night like this couldn’t go to waste, so Angel called Cherrie, and you along with Husk hit up Consent, the nightclub you’ve heard so much about.

It was either that or stick around and risk having an awkward conversation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Ruminated-On.

Of course, you had to change out of what Cherrie had poetically dubbed, “old granny lingerie.” You wrangled together an outfit more befitting of a modern setting. You had a short wine-colored dress you accessorized with a leather chest harness with Succubi wings (because you used every excuse to wear it in and out of the bedroom). Once Cherrie squished your cleavage and mussed up your hair, you were deemed acceptable to leave the hotel.

Modern clubs weren’t really your style, but Consent was a pretty decent joint. The place was teeming with infectious positive vibes and the music was decent. At least you had a great time shaking your ass after a couple shots.

The thumping music and flashing lights moved you, and for a while your mind was free and blissfully numb as you danced with the Cherrie and Angel (drinking was more Husk’s speed). Cherrie ribbed you for how you danced, while conversation with Husk was a welcomed reprieve from the dance floor. The entire night, Angel insisted on taking pictures with everyone between shots of tequila and shots of even more tequila.

Speaking of which, it was your turn to buy drinks for the group. You brought them over to the corner table where your friends gathered and presented them all with a flourish and a big, drunken grin. “Voila, mes amis! Afterlife-saving alcohol. Buvons!”

“Don’t spill the good shit!” Cherrie laughed, helping you set the drinks on the table.

The four of you toasted with your shot glasses before shooting them back. It burned deliciously all the way down, warming your cheeks and relaxing your muscles.

You slammed the glass on the table with a big, contented sigh. “Ah! Just what I needed.”

“You’re telling me,” Angel said. “You’ve been tense for days. Somethin’ happen, toots? Ya ain’t getting laid enough?”

“Pffft! No! To both. I’ve been… overworked, ‘sall.” A very convincing dismissive wave of your hand. “Y’know with the event and my club and… stuff.”

Husk mmm-hmmed knowingly, eying you but staying quiet. As long as you’ve known him, he could see right through anyone and everyone. His six sense was what made him such a good gambler, good enough to be quite the Overlord, once upon a time.

“Well, maybe there’s been something… but it’s whatever, y’know. Hardly interesting at all.”

Cherrie leaned in, playfully jostling your shoulder. “C’mon! Spill it, bitch. You’re drunk enough to overshare.”

You considered it for a moment. Alastor already knew about the worst thing to ever happen to you. Telling these three how you felt about him couldn’t be any worse… or if it was, your fuzzy brain couldn’t produce the reasons.

Your fingers drummed the table. “I’ve been suffering… from a certain infliction…involving Alastor.”

“Certain inflict— the fuck are you on about?”

“She means she has it bad for Alastor,” Husk said before taking another swig of his drink.

Your fists pounded the table, mortified. “Husker!”

“What? It’s the fucking truth.”

“Seriously?” Angel asked in genuine surprise. “You have a thing for Freaky Face?”

Cherrie laughed. “Well fuck me double dead!”

You covered your face with both hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Pretty much.” Husk shrugged. “I have no reason to give a fuck and I still noticed.”

You groaned, and dropped your face flat on the table, drinks clattering from the force.

“You wanna fuck the creep?” Angel asked.

“What?!” You lifted your head, chin on the table.

“I said…” He cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled over the music, “‘You wanna the creep?!’” His outburst earned your table a few semi-interested side glances from passers’by.

“Oh!” You laughed, flopping backwards in the booth. “Abso-bloody-lutely! The moment I saw him I wanted to jump his bones.”

Actually, the thought that ran through your head the night you first laid eyes on the drop-dead gorgeous stranger with the glasses and killer smile was that he looked like danger, vice, and sin… and that he probably ate people. It’s what spurred you on to steal him away for yourself.

No one ever said you were a well woman.

“Hold on a sec.” Cherrie brow creased over her eye and looked at you skeptically. “Ya serious with me right now?”

“Of course. Have you seen him?”

“Exactly why I'm askin’.”

You scoffed. “You must have cataracts because he is so goddamn fine, a certified looker and I am always looking. Very disrespectfully, I might add.”

“Look,” Angel said. “I'm not saying he's unattractive—”

“I am.” Husk and Cherrie said in unison.

“—but he's, like, the physical embodiment of a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“He is, isn't he?” You sighed dreamily, slanted smile on your face at the thought of Alastor. “I remember the first time I saw him grow in size to eat a person whole. He unhinged his jaw like a goddamn snake. I couldn’t sleep for days! And those weird magic tendrils he has make me—”

“No!” Husk held his hand, his face awash with absolute disgust. “No. Stop, goddammit. I’m trying to keep this shit down tonight.” He took a swig of his drink, as if to wash down your train of thought like vile medicine.

“Twenty or thirty years ago, I saw him with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up. His bare arms?” You fanned yourself dramatically at the memory. “Oh! I could double die!”

Cherrie laughed, smacking the table. “Girl, come on! You’re actin’ like some Victorian prude seeing ankles for the first time.”

“Sounds about right. I was raised by two of them.”

Angel frowned. “I thought you lived around my neck of the woods?”

“Mon ami.” You put a hand on his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “They’re called boats.”

He flipped you off with three-fourths of his hands; you and Cherrie burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Angel waved away your jest. “So Creepy Face makes you dehydrated, huh? Why haven’t you jumped his spooky bones yet?”

I cringed like he suggested I chew on broken glass for fun. “Be serious, Angel. You live with the man. You think he’d ever be receptive to <i>anyone</i> jumping his spooky bones?”

A shrug of both sets of shoulders. “Eh, fair. I always got the feeling he didn’t play on any team.”

“And that’s fine, y’know? I don’t want to change him or anything, but when it comes to Alastor…” You grabbed another shot and swished the clear liquid around in the small glass. “I’m a dizzy yuck carrying a torch for the gigglemug and I’m going mad as a box of frogs.”

“Uh, in fucking English please?” Cherrie asked.

“She means she’s down baaa-aaad.” Angel sing-songed, waggling his brows.

Cherrie chortled, throwing you a look of mock sympathy. “Aww! You want him to be ya <i>boyfriend</i>, ya sentimental mug?”

They laughed, and Husk shook his head in pity.

Thoroughly humiliated, you finished your shot. Then two more… and then one last shot for good luck. “Thank you all for the wonderful evening. Excuse me while I go play in traffic.”

You stood, but Angel grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back down. “Relax, toots. We’re just razzing ya.”

“Yeah, chill out, ya drama queen!” Cherrie slid over one of Husk’s tall glasses of alcohol, much to his annoyance. “Here’s what you’ll do. Down some liquid courage and screw the next guy you see. Random dick best medicine for a broken heart.”

Your nervous laughter was unconvincing even to your drunken ears. “A broken whaaaaat are you talking about? You… silly little lady.”

Cherrie rolled her eye. “Uh huh. Start chugging, skank!”

Husk argued this was a terrible idea, and Angel ended up playing mediator between him and Cherrie. You heard none of it as you downed a pint of whatever in six seconds. It was sweet and terrible, like dirty sugared nail polish.

A rush of warmth rolled through you under your skin, making you shudder. You stood with the empty glass, holding it by the rim. “Mish we luck, darlings!” Purposely, you dropped the glass, and ignored the shouts of protest around you as you bantered back onto the dance floor.

It didn’t take long for an over eager demon to approach you. You’d spotted him eyeing you earlier but didn’t pay him much mind. He was some type of weasel-faced demon with jagged teeth and a jacket over a garish button up.

You stilled as unwanted hands snaked over your hips from behind, making your skin crawl. Cologne flooded your nose, making you gag.

“Hey, honey tits. You’ve been dancing all night. Why don’tcha kick up your feet and sit on my face a while?”

No fucking thanks.

You looked at him over your shoulder, red lips curled into an unamused smile. “That couldn’t have worked for you before.”

He chuckled with unwarranted smugness; rancid beer breath wafted over your cheek. “Come on, sexy.” A squeeze of your hips, an unwelcomed hump against your ass. “Bet I can show you a good time.”

“For some reason, I’m doubtful.” You wiggled from his grip and turned to face him. “I must ask you to, respectfully, piss off. But please do have a terrific night, you noisome sack of soiled taint.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed at you again like he had the right, tugging on your tail, hard.

The ghost of a smile lived on your face as you swallowed down a terrified yelp. “You’re gonna take your fucking hand off me.”

He scowled like you were piss on the sidewalk he stepped in. “Look at Roman’s favorite little slut thinking she’s better than she is—”

A flash around your fist; you introduced his mouth to your brass knuckles. The bones in his jaw caved before he crumbled like a ton of bricks at your feet. All at once the music cut out as dozens of eyes suddenly locked on you and the man you sucker punched.

Your friends at the table stared at you, stunned. “What the hell?” Husk shouted. “It hasn’t even been a minute!”

“Oh shit!” A group of about ten or so men ran to the passed out bastard at your feet. “Oi, what the fuck! You killed Ricky!”

The bastard in question stirred, rolled over, and spat out a few bloodied teeth.

You motioned to him like a sack of laundry. “Ricky’s right as rain, fellas. What’s the problem?”

No surprise, you were the problem, if the several guns aimed at your chest were any indication. Angel, Cherrie, and Husk rushed to your side, guns, bombs, and cards out in defense.

Fist to jaw, you cracked your neck from side to side. “So you wanna dance?” You grabbed one of your thigh knives and flicked it, the blade extending to the length of your forearm. “Let’s cut a rug!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Cherrie whooped, tossing a bomb up and catching it with one hand. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”

And fuckin’ go you did.

You rushed the nearest goon. Ducking under his firing gun, your blade cleaved clean through his kneecaps. He howled and toppled over, severed legs left standing right, blood spurting like a busted fountain.

Soon the battle unfolded into a blur of carnage and unadulterated violence. The crowd, desperate not to get hit in the crossfire, screamed and fled out the door in droves. A flurry of bullets, blood, and explosions rocked the building. You caught glimpses of the others through the chaos and smoke: Angel gunned down the larger guys in the back. Husk, quick as a whip, threw his playing cards, slicing through torsos and necks. Cherrie threw her bombs with reckless abandon, her laughter accented with explosions. And you twirled light on your feet, slicing and dicing with experienced ease.

The smoke cleared, the fight ending faster than it started, the night capped off with the four of you surrounded by massacred bodies and rubble. You ended up cutting a juicy fat check to the extremely pissed off owner.

The four of you rode the high of victory all the way back to the hotel, laughing and talking way louder than necessary. After exchanging good nights, you shuffled to your room, singing under your breath and rummaging your purse for your room key.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras… Il me parle tout basaaassSHIT!”

Where was your key? You dug through your purse, even dumped the contents on the floor. Lipstick, condoms, and spare tampons spilled on the floor, but not your room key.

Shit.

Shit shit shit!

Husk wouldn’t be able to get you a second key until morning, and you had no idea what room he or Angel slept in. That left…

“… shit.”

You knocked on the door three times. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, the silence painfully deafening. You contemplated sleeping in the lounge when the door to the Radio Tower eased open.

“Ah, salut!” You leaned on the door frame and nearly stumbled. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t hide your dopey happy grin. “There's the man I wanted to see!”

Alastor's permanent smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Temerity! What brings you here at this hour? And in such a state?”

Oh, right. Once again you stood before Alastor splattered in the blood of your enemies. You two had to stop meeting like this.

“Listen, my door is all—” You clicked your tongue and pantomimed turning a key in a door. “And I need you.”

“To unlock your door?”

“… yes, that.”

A look flashed across his face you had no hope of discerning while inebriated. He stepped through the door and whirled his microphone behind him.

“I see! Well, I’m more than happy to be of assistance!”

You figured he’d use his freaky voodoo/hoodoo powers to summon a key, instead he strolled down the hall. Seconds passed before your three remaining brain cells figured out you should follow him. Alastor stopped in front of your room door. This was his way of messing with you, letting you know he knew where you slept.

…or maybe you were paranoid, but what was more likely?

Once at your door, he tapped it with his cane and the door eased open with a glowing green light. “There you are, my dear!”

“Merci beaucoup, Al-a-stor~”

You blew him a kiss and spun into the room, confidently inelegant. Alastor couldn’t help his hum of amusement. Even this sloppily drunk he found you to be more amusing than unsavory.

Alastor turned to leave when a terrified “Oh, bollocks!” stopped him in his tracks. Seeing you dig through your bra was not what he expected.

“Wait! Never mind.” You pulled your hand free and dropped three small white blobs on the dresser with a clatter. Teeth, Alastor realized. Sharp and jagged canine-like teeth.

A twitch in his eye as he regarded you. “Temerity, why were there teeth in your undergarments?”

“They’re not mine.”

Speechless. He was speechless, brow furrowed, head tilted to the side. Your blasé attitude left him with more questions.

You seemed to mistake his expression for annoyance. “‘m sorry about this. I know it’s late. I bet you were sleep sleep.”

“Not at all, actually.” He and insomnia had a complex relationship, to say the very least.

“Why? Because sleep is the cousin of death, or because it’s stupid?” You struggled with the lascivious harness strapped across your chest, pulling it off with so much force you nearly fell on your back. “We’re dead! Why do we even need to sleep? Or eat? Or have sex?”

Well, he could agree with two out of three of those things.

Alastor casually dusted off an outstretched sleeve and fixed his suit. “A very astute question, my dear. I’m afraid you’d have to ask the feathered schmucks stairs,” he said, using your own words from the other night.

You snorted, laughing behind a blood-speckled hand. “Alastor! Lord, you alway make me laugh…”

You rolled on your stomach, swinging your feet in the air and beaming at him with pure admiration, expression unfiltered due to your intoxication. “Remember that time at the bar? Those clods yapped and yapped about their old ladies, going on and on, and they started needling you about ‘your gal’ and you went—” you sat and cleared your throat, pushing up imaginary glasses. “‘My gal made a great meal, but I sure do miss her!’”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Your impression of him left much to be desired.

He didn’t listen as you went on to describe the night, because he recalled it clearly. He remembered that night decades ago at the speakeasy Mimzy worked. He’d spent many a night there schmoozing, drinking, dancing, prowling for possible prey.

In particular Alastor remembered the dark-haired, bright-eyed woman with far too much confidence who spirited him away to the dance floor, proudly declaring, “You look like a fella with stamina! You’re my partner now!”

He remembered sitting at the bar with you after hours of dancing and a few drinks in, hazy with smoke and surrounded by faceless dregs who jabbered on and on about uninteresting manners. His joke— really his attempt to steer the conversation off course— was received well by you alone.

Smile lines crinkled around your eyes as you snorted. Without skipping a beat, you said, “How sweet! My man only gives me the cold shoulder.”

He grinned, hardly noticing or caring when the others retreated from the bar. “To think he’d treat a dame like you so poorly. How tasteless.”

An exaggerated head shake. “I’m thinking of throwing him out.”

“In that case, I’d love to have you for dinner sometime.”

You leaned in, your permanent self-assured grin replaced with one of girlhood giddiness, in stark contrast to the jokes about cannibalism. “As long as it doesn’t—“ you stifled a laugh, “doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg!”

“Of course not, dear! Perhaps afterwards we can have a nice chat over a cup of Joe.”

You lost it, conceding to him the win in the battle of cheesy puns as you giggled like mad and wiped away tears.

Back in the present you swiped at tears of laughter and threw yourself back on the bed. “We were so dumb! It wasn’t even funny, I just—” A deep yawn rolled through you, “…appreciated your commitment… to the bit…”

You went silent, a soft rumble as your breathing deepended, and you fell sound asleep in an instant. Alastor would almost admire the ability… if it wasn’t simply because you were drunk. He’d seen you tipsy before, from afar at functions. Even when you two met you weren’t as wasted as this.

In your inebriated state you didn’t know what you revealed. Despite your candor about discussing your life on earth, you never mentioned your shared history with Alastor before meeting again in Hell. He thought you’d forgotten, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

He had to keep that in mind.

While brief, meeting you was a splendidly memorable night. At the time, he regretted never having the chance to meet with you again, despite your insistence that the two of you should. Someone like you was a rare fine, a true gem among the clods.

Alastor sensed you held similar secrets to him. Not necessarily that you killed people, but he could tell you protected yourself with charisma, hid behind smiles, and kept your true identity hidden within the depths of your soul. Despite your charm and wit, none of the people in your entourage stayed by your side as the night progressed.

Perhaps if one had you wouldn’t have met your fate that night…

Well! Enough reminiscing for one night! It was time for him to return to his Radio Tower, but once again something stopped him.

He looked over your sleeping form. Gentle snoring rumbled in your chest like distant thunder, a soft exhale escaped your parted lips. Your blood red heels (that most likely weren’t that color when you put them on) dangled over the foot of the bed.

His smile twisted as he took in your vulnerable sleeping body. What was it you said to him the night he found you, splashed with crimson in the same manner? Only an absolute fool would trust him absolutely.

Yet here you were, willing to be vulnerable in his presence.

Alastor could only fathom falling asleep in front of Rosie, but their relationship was the exception that proved the rule. While he meant you no physical harm and knew you didn’t fear him, it was appalling to him you’d choose to put yourself in this position.

Frankly, it was pure foolishness.

Perhaps the alcohol was to blame, but he doubted it. Coming to him was one option of many and you chose him. You trusted him.

For reasons he didn’t quite understand he found himself kneeling at the foot of your bed, ready to remove your heels.

It would’ve been more interesting to do this when you were awake. After all, most of the joy of violating one’s personal space came from annoying them, drawing expressions and reactions from them by mere proximity.

Would you be appalled and act disgusted by him violating your boundaries? Perhaps given your state you’d finally give in and confess to him. That could be fun, but nowhere near as satisfying if you did it clear headed, cognisant of the consequences.

Alastor found himself doing it anyway, gently slipping off one at a time and setting them aside. He knew first hand one shouldn’t sleep with shoes on.

Your skin flecked with blood reminded him of that night he saw your mask shattered in the perfect marriage of theatrics and brutality. His eyes glance to the blood smattering the fat of your thighs. An unfamiliar pang ached in the center of his being, a feeling he could only register as hunger.

How peculiar…

The feeling caught him by utter surprise. His taste in flesh never included friends; his psyche deemed them off limits and he was unable to view them as food.

But looking at you defenseless and covered in blood— like a wounded lamb purposefully dragging itself into the lion’s den— the uncomfortable longing stirring in him had to be hunger…

Alastor stood, more quickly than necessary, forcing his eyes off you and onto your room. Then he saw something that forced that feeling to rise into his chest, a final revelation before he vanished into the shadows.

Your radio from home sat on the nightstand.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while. I got really depressed, got addicted to ai chatbots, and forgot how to write…

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

♥︎Taglist♥︎

@forbidding-souda

@mo-0-o

@joumi13

@the--rebel--fae

@babesway22

@maychay

@mullet-mother

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Several Shots Later (Pro!Sero x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader) 

Pairing: Pro!Sero Hanta x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers) 

Synopsis: In which you go on a vacation in an effort to relax and feel more confident, but find yourself falling for the sexy stranger who sends you a drink across the room and also happens to give you some firsthand dance lessons and a night you’ll never forget. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged Up!Sero (he’s in his late 20s); Chubby!Reader; Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana/Alcohol Use; Sero Speaking Spanish; Petnames: (Baby, Mama, Mami); Skinny Dipping; Strangers to Lovers; Drunk Sex; Exhibitionism; Public Oral; Shotgunning; Dirty Talk; Daddy/Papi Kink; Rope Play; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; UNPROTECTED PIV Sex; Mild Choking; Mild Degradation; Cum on Body; Aftercare 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: HAPPY B-DAY WEEK TO MY FAVORITE LATIN KING SERO!! I typed this from his bed btw. Posting it early cuz this weekend, I'm gonna be soooo busy. Anyway, I had this idea after listening to "She's Hot" (the song above) & thinking about dancing to it with Sero cuz y'all know damn well he can MOVE. Enjoy! -Jazz

P.S. If my Spanish is trash or inaccurate, please PLEASE let me know! I used Google Translate lol

Read on AO3 here!

*********

He’s been staring at you all night, ever since you sat at the bar twenty minutes ago. If he continues to do so, you’re sure to soak the stool you’re sitting on.

You’ve never been stared at in such a way before––so brazenly and intimately. Though the lust is hidden beneath the surface of his charcoal eyes, you can tell that this isn’t all that is there. You’re used to being lusted after, but this feels different. More…romantic.

And all just from one look! You know you’re probably looking too deep into it though. After all, you haven’t even spoken to the man. But fuck, do you want to, ever since you caught a glimpse of him when you stepped into the resort’s nightclub twenty minutes before with your two friends and vacay buddies. 

The man is the definition of “fine”.

Though he was sitting down when you first saw him, you’d place him at a good height over yours. He is all lean muscle, but not overly so, all of which you can see straining against his black polo shirt that he leaves unbuttoned to expose the sliver of chest and a gold chain underneath. His arms, which you’d love to feel wrapped around you, are roped in tattoos, his fingers adorned in rings and his wrist encased in a Rolex watch. The man must got money.

He sits back in his seat now, his shot of rum in his lap and his thighs open wide as if not aware that every woman (or man) could be staring at his crotch in those tight-ass jeans. 

You’d never thought you’d ever see a man make a mullet look good either. He rocks it perfectly, several strands of black hair hanging in his alluring eyes that continue to stare you down, making you feel hot all over. His eyes sparkle just as his lip ring and silver hoops along his ears do, his long lashes making you think of a doll’s. He’s so, so beautiful. 

You don’t know what he does, but judging by the watch and the Nike Air Forces on his feet, you’d guess he could be a singer. Maybe a business owner or CEO of some company? Maybe even a model? Regardless, he could have any woman in here just with one look and a smile. Why is he so entranced with you? What is it with you that he wants? 

“Girl, you’ve been staring right back at him,” Mina chuckles from beside you. “If don’t hop on that man, I will ‘cause he’s fine.”

You side-eye her from your spot between her and Uraraka, watching her sip on her second cocktail of the night in her little pink mini-dress. “Why don’t you just go over and talk to him like a normal person?” she snickers. 

You turn away from her and the beautiful stranger, staring down at your half-drunk Mojito. “You know I don’t make the first move,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how. Plus, I didn’t come here for a man. I came here to relax and find some confidence in myself.” 

“That’s what a hot guy like him is for!” Mina argues, nodding at the stranger. Though you’re sure he has looked away from you by now, your body still burns as if he is still watching you, waiting for you. “No,” you protest. “That’s what the beach, the spa, and endless drinks are for. I’m not here for sex after the last time a hookup went wrong–which was only a month ago.” 

You huff, stirring your drink around before sipping on it to calm your nerves and push those memories away. You came here to get away from all of that, after all. A month ago was the last straw when it came to dating and hooking up, especially with men online. You had been on Match for months but always seemed to run into men who either had a fetish for plus-sized women, and only that, or ghosted you as soon as they saw you outside of your pretty profile picture. 

The last hookup you had seemed to break your spirit completely. You and the guy had been talking for a couple of weeks before he asked you out for dinner. Though you were excited, you felt that nabbing feeling in your gut that something would go wrong the moment he saw you in your dress, all of your rolls and jiggly parts on display.

But surprisingly, when you met with him at the restaurant, his smile didn’t even falter. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as if nothing was wrong. You even started to believe that this would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Until you invited him back to your apartment after one too many glasses of wine and got him out of his clothes. Until he stripped you, spread your legs wide eagle, and attempted to go down on you but didn’t. “I can’t do this,” he had sighed, already moving to grab his shit to hastily put back on. “Look, you’re pretty and all, and I thought I could handle you, but I can’t. You’re just too…big.” 

To say you were hurt was an understatement. You said nothing to him as he profusely apologized; said it wasn’t your fault but just his preference; that he knew you’d find someone that would be attracted to you. If only he knew that this hasn’t been the case in years. If only he knew that most men only saw you as an object of their fetish and kinks; not their affection. 

You weren’t asking for the fucking moon here. Just some love and affection. Just some intimacy. Just some good ol’ big dick. But you always seemed to lack in those departments because of your shape and size. There are times you wished you looked like your friends–so small and socially acceptable with their flat stomachs and breasts that didn’t sag. They could wear tight-skin dresses and crop tops without getting ridiculed or laughed at. You couldn’t. 

This is why you took the offer for this trip to the beach resort on the coast of [Insert Country Name Here]. It was a short five-day trip that Mina and Uraraka had been planning to get away from your home in the US for a while and escape the sweltering heat.

When they offered you a spot and a ticket, you took that shit. You knew that this was your chance to finally gain the confidence you were missing and get away from the problems and men your city brought for a while. So far, it’s been working. Ever since you flew in this morning, you’ve been wearing all the bikinis and sundresses you want without getting side-eyed or gawked at. It feels damn good! But getting eyed down by that stranger feels even better. 

“He was just a porn-addicted asshole,” Uraraka huffs, crossing her toned legs over each other in her pretty, flowery sundress. “He wasn’t worth your time. As much as I understand your reluctance, Y/N, you’re not behind a screen this time. You’re sitting here, looking sexy as fuck in your mini skirt, and he’s eyeing you down like he wants all of you.” 

“She is right, babes,” Mina agrees. “The way that guy is staring at you is making me kinda jealous.” She smiles at the way you bashfully advert your eyes to stare down at your outfit. They forced you to put on the shimmery mini skirt that hugs your ass and the low-cut top that exposes your cleavage for tonight’s activities. 

“What’s the point of being on vacation if you don’t indulge in hookups with hot people?” she giggles, sipping suggestively on her straw. You raise your brows at her, more than happy to correct her.  “Vacations may be about that for you two, but I’m more about sleeping till the afternoon, lounging by the beach, and drinking my bottomless mimosas.” 

Though the sexy stranger makes you think differently, you know that you’re never going to find the courage to get up and talk to him, no matter how much you drank or how sexy your friends said you looked. You wanted to get away from hookup culture and just find confidence on your own without looking for it in sex with a nice-looking guy. You just want to relax! But Mina and Uraraka aren't taking no for an answer.

Mina downs the rest of her drink before staring at you pointedly. “And that’s about to change tonight.” You gawk at her, laughing in disbelief at her stubbornness. “It’s only the first day!” you laugh. 

“Exactly!” she agrees. “And we’ve got about five days left here at this resort. You know time flies extra fast while on vacation, girl.” She winks at you, encouraging you to go through with catching a body for the night. But you hum disapprovingly to yourself, stirring your straw around in your glass. “I don’t know, girls,” you sigh. “It just doesn’t seem right to use a guy just to boost my confidence and have a good time.” 

Mina dramatically scoffs, rolling her golden eyes. “Please! You’ve got men in here who would gladly give their left lung to do all of that for you and more. Probably even that hottie with the mullet.” Though her words are encouraging, you still feel that roil of fear and uncertainty in your gut. What if he refuses you? What if he says yes but then changes his mind once he gets a look at you under your clothes? 

Uraraka’s soft hand on your knee pulls you out of your head. “How can you know if you don’t at least try, Y/N?” she soothingly asks. “You deserve to have a good time, including getting some great sex if that’s what you want. And from the way you’ve been staring back at that stranger, we can tell it’s exactly what you want. So go on and get him!” 

Mina places a hand on your shoulder, the smell of her fruity perfume overtaking your senses. “What happens on vacation stays on vacation,” she giggles. 

And you realize that they’re absolutely right. You can never know what will happen if you don’t at least try. Plus, even if it goes wrong, there are plenty of other men at this resort you can try to snag, even if for the night or the remainder of this trip. You came here to not only relax, but to find confidence and let loose. Maybe you can do all of that in one night with a hot stranger with no strings attached. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling a boost of confidence in your body. “Lemme just finish this first.” You reach for your Mojito and down it, already feeling the effects of the alcohol in your body. You feel warm and tingly; sexy and powerful like you could take over the whole world. You’ve got this. You’re a sexy ass bitch. 

Uraraka cheers you on when you slide out of your stool, pulling down your skirt over your stomach and thick, jiggly thighs as you do. “Go get him, girly!” Mina shouts encouragingly. “Let us know if you need us to push him into the pool.” 

You giggle, feeling nervous yet excited. You can’t believe you’re really coming out of your comfort zone like this. But as you turn in the direction of the sexy stranger, you find his seat open and him gone. “Oh,” you breathe, disappointment blooming within you. “He’s gone.” Mina and Uraraka look around in disbelief. “Where’d he go?”

Uraraka huffs, her bob as she turns her head from side to side searching for the mystery man. “He was just right there!” Mina puts a comforting hand on your arm. “Well, don’t fret, babes. There are plenty of other fine-ass men in here who would gladly give you their undivided attention.” She begins to look around, squinting into the flashing lights on the dance floor despite your disinterest. “Let’s see…what about–“ 

“Excuse me,” someone says from behind you. You turn, finding the bartender holding another delicious-looking Mojito. “This is for you, miss. It was already paid for.” You and the girls stare at the drink in shock and suspicion. “Already paid for?” you parrot, baffled. “By who?” 

“Well, it was supposed to be by your secret admirer, but I think I fucked that up comin’ over here.” A light chuckle leaves the lips of a man you already know is fine judging by his voice–it’s raspy and laced with a slight accent you can’t quite decipher; very pleasant to the ear. A real panty dropper. 

When you and your friends turn, you swear to nearly drop dead right there in the club. There, standing behind you with a smile playing on his pierced, plump lips, is the hot stranger from across the room. And he’s even sexier up close! From this angle, you can see the ink on his chest peeking from out of his collar and how clean his nails are. Not to mention his scent––so sweet yet musky. It’s intoxicating. You and the girls stand there like idiots, silently drinking in the fine-ass stranger. “Oh, shit, he’s even finer up close,” Mina whispers to Uraraka, earning a shush in response. 

The man smiles, two dimples popping on his cheeks. You love dimples. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he sheepishly says, and you catch a glint of something shiny in his mouth. A tongue piercing. ‘Oh, fuck me,’ you think. This man is trouble.

“I’m sorry if I am, but I couldn’t help myself. You just look too good tonight.” His charcoal eyes are planted firmly on you though you see them falter to trail down your form. You have to hold onto the stool behind you to avoid falling out. Your knees suddenly feel too weak to hold you up. “I thought the drink would’ve been a good icebreaker, but maybe that was kinda douchey,” he wonder aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. His bicep bulges as he does so, making you picture yourself running your fingers over it. 

“U-Uh…” You desperately try to find the words to speak, not wanting to come off as a weirdo. But your mind is completely blank, all except for some naughty images of this man’s hands on you and his cock buried deep inside of you as he bends you over the bar. “No,” you reply, finding the words to finally speak. “It was sweet of you. Thank you…for the compliment too, not just the drink.” You cringe at yourself, realizing you’re babbling.

The stranger laughs lightly, the sound like sex to you. “I’m Sero,” he says in his sexy, raspy voice. “Sero Hanta.” He sticks his hand out for yours and you take it. As soon as your hands make contact, you feel an electric current soar through you as if you’re being shocked from the inside. His hand is big and calloused as if he’s been using them for years. You’re not sure if he feels the same zing that courses through you, but his eyes do trail to your mouth. 

“I’m Y/N,” you timidly reply as your hands drop. “L/N. These are my friends; we’re on vacation.” You turn to your friends that you find leaving their posts, guilty smiles on their faces. “And we were just leaving,” Mina replies. “We’re just gonna go on the dance floor. Text us if you need anything!” 

“Very nice to meet you!” Uraraka shouts with a wave before she and Mina hurry to the dance floor. 

“Wait!” You hiss, but they’re already moving out of earshot. You watch them skid off to the dance floor with the sharpest glare you've ever given a person. If looks could kill, they would be dead. Now it’s just you and Sero the Sexy Stranger.

Though you’re not exactly alone, you may as well be the only two people standing in the room with how awkward and tense the air feels. Sero isn’t immune to it either. He stands rather rigidly, his arms behind his back and his eyes looking anywhere but at you in fear of making you feel uncomfortable. Knowing you can’t stand here all night, you clear your throat and pat the stool next to you. “Uh…did you wanna sit?” Sero shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “If you’re cool with it.” 

You nod and slide into your own seat while he hops up next to you. “So you said you ladies are here on vacation?” he asks, giving you a friendly, warm smile that eases your nerves. You nod, lacing your fingers together to give them something to do. “Yeah, for five more days. We just flew in this morning all the way from the US.” 

Sero’s charcoal eyes widen in shock. “The United States?” he gasps, making you giggle. “Shit, that’s a long way. Where are you from?”

You tell him, including the state. You may as well also tell him the capital and the population of your city with how much you’re babbling, but it’s hard to keep calm in the presence of such a sexy, sweet-smelling man. Sero is full of questions, his curiosity adorable. “What’s it like there? Is the food good? I heard they’ve got the best tour sights too!” 

You tell him everything, from the food to the museums to the entertainment there for tourists along with the weather, your neighborhood, and how you’ve been living there ever since you were young. “I met my friends back during college,” you explain as you sip on the Mojito that Sero bought you. “We decided to take this trip to get out of the city for a while.”  Sero nods, his attention firmly on you and only you. It makes you blush and you thank God that He made you a Black woman.

“Well, you ladies picked the best place for a vacay. I’ve been coming here for years ‘cause I’ve got family down here.” He waves a hand, flagging down the bartender. “Are you from here?” you curiously ask. 

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nah; I was born in Musutafu, a city in Japan. My mother is Latina but my father is Japanese.” Your interest in him piques here as you have a big soft spot for mixed men. “So are you bilingual?” you giggle. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese forever ever since I started watching anime.” 

Sero turns to face you, one muscled arm slung across the bar. “You’re an anime fan, huh?” he asks, interest and the flashing strobe lights in his black eyes which you now realize aren't charcoal at all––they’re a very dark brown, almost like dark chocolate. “What’s your favorite? And if you say Naruto, I’m leaving.” 

“What’s wrong with Naruto?” you laugh, gaping at him. 

“Everyone says Naruto!” he complains, rolling his eyes dramatically. “If not DBZ! Those are the two anime shows that reached the mainstream and everyone knows about.” You decide to leave your obsession with Naruto in middle school on the back burner for now.

“Well, I’ll give you my top five,” you giggle. You give him each one, most of them being very underrated and less popular than other anime. Sero looks impressed when you finish. “Daaamn, girl!” he praises. “You’ve got taste! I didn’t think anyone knew about your fifth pick. It’s more of an underrated one.” You nod, agreeing. “Yeah, but I’m into mystery. The twists and turns make each episode so fun to watch.” 

He nods in agreement, a strange smile on his face. Though it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, it also feels…weird. You’re not used to being smiled at in such a way, like what you’re saying is so interesting and intriguing. You turn away to sip your drink, hoping more alcohol will make you feel less weird and take you out of your head. 

The bartender suddenly returns to your side with a tray of multi-colored shot glasses and tiny bowls of salt, lemon, and lime on the side. “Here you are, Mr. Hanta,” he says. "On the house.” Sero gives him a look as he lowers the tray in front of him. “I keep tellin’ you to just call me Sero,” he sighs, pulling out a twenty to tip the bartender. “I ain’t my dad.” 

When the bartender scurries off with the bill, Sero fills you in on why he got the order of rounds: “They give me free shit every time I come in here but I still tip ‘em well. Probably because I know the owner. He’s a good friend of my dad’s.” He takes one of the shot glasses and downs the contents inside with ease, not even sucking on a lemon or lime slice as a chaser. You don’t realize that you’re staring at him until he raises a questionable brow at you. “Want one?” he asks. Flushing with embarrassment, you shake your head. “You sure? They’re rum shots. Some are just plain, some are apple, and some are coconut.” 

Your eyes flick from him to the shots, slowly becoming seduced by the different flavors and the idea of letting even looser. “Just one,” you say, giving in to defeat.

Sero passes you a shot before picking up another one of his own, giving you a white-toothed smile. “To an amazing vacation,” he says, raising his shot. You do the same and clink your glass with his before downing your rum at the same time he does. Though you taste the hint of apple, the rum is incredibly strong and nearly burns your tonsils. You gag as he goes down, making Sero laugh behind his hand. “Don’t laugh!” you pout. “This shit is stronger than the stuff you find in the US.” 

Sero snickers as you take a lemon slice and vigorously suck on it, chasing away the strong taste of the rum. “Yeah, I bet,” he chuckles, nodding at the shots. “This is straight rum, mama. Definitely not to be played with. Lemme order you some water.”

He leans over the bar, raising his muscular arm, and you don’t know if it’s you or the alcohol starting to speak, but his arm looks very appealing to you right now. You picture wrapped around your waist or your tummy, maybe on your side while his cock is plunging in and out of the wet, gummy walls of your pussy over and over again, his sweet, raspy voice whispering in your ear. 

You blink, alarmed. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ you think. The alcohol is definitely talking now. You have to try to act as normal as possible and not like you’re a horny mess when the bartender returns with a glass of cool water.

But you don't touch the water. Instead, you go for another shot, determination flooding within you that is only conjured by the alcohol. “You wanna try again?” Sero snickers. “Be my guest. It always goes down better the second time around. Don’t drink it too fast, now.” He keeps his intense eyes on you as you down your next shot. He’s right: it does go down a lot easier. While you feel the burn as he slides down your throat, it settles into your tummy nicely, making you feel warm and tingly. 

Sero downs his third shot of the night, as do you. Soon, the room is starting to get hotter and seems a little fuzzier than before. The music is sharper, Sero seems a lot sexier, and you’re having trouble focusing. You know that you are only another shot away from drunk, so you decide to take a couple of sips of your water. Unfortunately, your being tipsy means that you have zero filter. “Uh…so what do you do?” you randomly ask Sero. “Like, for work?” 

Sero stares at you, perplexed, his pink, pierced lips wrapped around a straw to his glass of water. You flush with embarrassment and go to apologize for being too personal, but his smile eases your nerves. “Relax,” he chuckles. “It ain’t like you asked me what my social security is.” You return the smile, becoming accustomed to his humor and laid-back attitude. “I’m a house renovator, so I fix up houses for people to rent, buy, or put on the market. I’ve got my own business back in Japan. I’m also a dance instructor on the side.” 

Your ears perk at his hustle. So he’s got money and he can dance? “So you’re extremely talented, basically.” It could be the trick of the lights, but you think you see Sero’s cheeks grow pink. “I try. What about you?” You tell him your job along with what you do all day while working at it five days a week. His handsome face scrunches in pain. “That’s a great job, but it sounds time-consuming. You ever get bored or have time for yourself?” 

You discard your water and sip on the rest of your Mojito, nearly forgetting it was there. “Time for myself is what the weekends are for,” you joke. “But in all seriousness, some of the time I get tired of it. That’s why my friends and I booked this trip as a way to relax and boost my confidence.” 

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. 'Fuck!’ you think, panicking. Goddamn, the alcohol! Why does it have to make your tongue so loose and you so dumb?

Sero’s eyes flash with interest. “Boost your confidence?” he asks, quirking a brow at you that makes him look increasingly hotter. “How so?” He leans in as if to kiss you, a secretive smile curling onto his lips. You avert your eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in them. You hope he doesn’t push this. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling a stranger all about your problems with your body and dating. 

“I’m kidding,” he finally says, probably noticing your change in demeanor. “You don’t have to tell me, but you could’ve fooled me ‘cause the outfit is certainly doin’ its job.” His eyes trail across your form in your outfit, making your body feel like it just got stuck in an oven. “Does that confidence-boosting also include dancing like your friends are?” he asks, nodding at the dance floor. There, you see Mina and Uraraka on the floor, twirling their hips and sipping on their drinks, carefree and beautiful. 

You don’t think you could be that carefree with so many eyes on you. It’s different in the comfort of your own home, but here? It’s just too harrowing of an idea. “I-I don’t dance,” you timidly admit to Sero. “Not ‘cause I can’t, but I just…don’t.” 

Sero scowls confusedly at you, his brows furrowing. “Why?” he asks, sounding absolutely baffled. “When the music is this good, it’s just too good to not move! You know how to salsa? Or bachata?” You stare at him, gobsmacked. This man can really move like that? “You teach all of that?” you ask, suddenly even hotter knowing this. You can only imagine how his hips can move in bed. 

Sero smirks proudly. “Damn right,” he chuckles. “And I’m gonna teach you. You’ve got the best in the business, baby.” He takes his hand in yours and helps you down off of your stool. But before he can lead to you the dance floor, you pull him back. “Wait!” you protest. He peers over his shoulder at you and you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. “I-I don’t know if I’ve got dancing shoes.” 

The sexy stranger turns around to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Really?” he asks. “That’s the best you’ve got?” You stare down at your shoes, even more apprehensive. It’s bad enough that you’re afraid of how you’ll look, but you’ve never had a man ask you to dance with him on the floor before. You’ve never had a man pursue you in such a way. You’re not sure how to handle it or what you’re even doing. 

You’re aware of Sero getting closer to you until all you see is his chest in your face. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his cologne fogging your senses and self-control. “If you’re worried about what you look like, don’t. You’ve got people in here who dance worse and if you step on my toes, I’ll just act like it didn’t happen.”

At this, you smile though hesitantly. “There’s that smile,” he coos, interlacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon, before the song ends.” 

The song playing now is one you recognize from TikTok from the Spanish guitars and Latin beat pumping through the speakers that you’d roll your hips into a mirror to. The strobe lights have now brightened to a seductive red that makes the dance floor look like it’s on fire. Sero leads you to a space on the dance floor between the grinding club-goers and stands in front of you, his height blocking the others dancing behind him. 

You rigidly stand with his hand in yours a good distance away from him. You can already feel yourself wanting to run. The confidence that the alcohol provided you is starting to fade. All you want to do now is go back to your hotel room and go to sleep. ‘No,’ you think stubbornly. ‘You’re not doing that. You came here to find confidence and this man is trying to help you with that.’ 

Sero smirks jokingly at you. Unaware to you, he thinks your shyness is the cutest thing in the world. He’d fuck you right here in front of the whole club if he could. “You’ve gotta stand a little closer than that,” he chuckles. With some hesitation, you move an inch closer to him, barely toe to toe with him.

“Closer,” he teasingly repeats. Maybe it's the guitars in the song or the intensity of his gaze on you, but you find yourself moving closer to him like a moth being beckoned by a flame. Suddenly, you’re close enough to kiss him, your nose nearly brushing his chest.

“Perfecto,” he whispers, and it has your heart racing like it’s trying to win a track race. “Now you put one hand on my shoulder.” Keeping one of your hands interlocked with his, you raise your free hand and place it on his broad shoulder. 

Then his hands are on your hips, secure and…nice. This feels nice. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” he asks, his lips at your ear. You can barely speak––your throat is dry and your mind has gone completely blank. “Give me your words, mami,” he demands though not aggressively. The pet name, along with his accent curling around the almost-forbidden word, has you blushing profusely and thanking the Lord that He made you a Black woman. 

Sero tenses as soon as the word flies, pulling away to apologize face to face. “Sorry,” he says embarrassingly, a blush coating his cheeks. “No,” you protest, shaking your head. “I-I like it. And it’s fine…you holding me like this, that is.” A beaming smile crosses his lips; one that makes you smile too and seems to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

“Now just follow me,” he instructs you. “When my foot goes back, yours goes forward, like this.” He puts one foot back and you timidly bring yours forward. “Now vice versa,” he says before bringing his foot back to the front. You pick up on things quickly and press your foot back. “Good!” he praises you. “Now let’s try it with the music. It goes 1, 2, 3…1, 2, 3…just like the beat. Listen to the beat.” 

You do as he says and listen to the music, trying to match your foot movement with the rhythm. Sero is a natural at this, as he should be since it’s his side hustle. He moves like he is the damn music, his body turning into water. His moves are loose and languid but not out-of-beat or uncontrolled. His back is straight, his shoulders are squared, and his hips? They roll like fucking waves.

You find yourself wanting to touch them; roll your tongue against them and the washboard abs you know are just up under his shirt. He never lets you go as you attempt to copy his moves and his confidence. And yes, you step on his feet a few times, but he never loses that patient, kind smile. Soon, you start to feel more comfortable and your moves grow looser than before. 

Sero feels your body relax and his eyes gleam with excitement. “There we go!” he laughs. “And you said you were worried about havin’ the wrong shoes. You’re a natural at this.” He twirls you twice, making you giddy and dizzy with joy. You are hot and sweaty, and your makeup has probably seen better days, but you don’t care. You feel good, all because of the man you're dancing with tonight. 

Suddenly, a newfound confidence blooms inside of you that could either be from the alcohol or from the closeness of this fine-ass man. One that has your hand moving from his shoulder to his chest, just briefly caressing it. “I guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you say in a tone that you’ve never heard come out of your mouth before. It is low and sensual. 

Sero notices it immediately. His kind smile turns into one that is more secretive like he is hiding something you don’t know about. He twirls you once more, causing your braids to fly around you and a laugh to burst from your mouth. Then he’s yanking you to him, emitting a surprised gasp from your lips when you find yourself chest-to-chest with him. One of his big hands moves to caress your lower back while the other still holds yours. He stares deep into your eyes as he begins to move his hips against yours, rolling and grinding his body into your own.

Suddenly, like a cliche romance trope, everyone disappears and all that is left are you and him. You only see him. You only know him. From somewhere on the floor, Mina and Uraraka shriek, hyping you up. “Yaaaasss, Y/N!” Mina screeches, much louder than Uraraka and the music. “Get it, girl!” 

Before you even realize it, you’re grinding right back onto him, rolling your hips into his. He twirls you around once more, but doesn’t allow you to face him again. Instead, he presses his front against your back and grinds against you from there. His hands grip your hips, coaxing you to wind your ass back into him. You get lost in the music and in him, feeling safe in his arms despite only knowing him for an hour or so.

“You’ve got it,” he laughs into your ear, making your inner thighs tingle. “You were so scared to do this, and now look at you. I bet every man in here is jealous that I get to be the one to dance with such a pretty thing like you.” 

Those words are what do it for you, and before you even realize it, you're looping your arms around his neck to bring him closer and turning your face to kiss him. It is a quick kiss, but it’s enough to have your heart hammering even faster and your stomach twirling. When you pull away, Sero's eyes are wide, a shocked expression on his face.

You immediately jump away and cover your mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologize. “I-I don’t know why I…” You trail off, suddenly feeling disgusting and awful. Your confidence is gone and the effects of the alcohol are waning. "I should go,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. 

But as you turn to storm off the dance floor, Sero stops you by grabbing your wrist. “No,” he says, a silent plea in his eyes. “Don’t go.” 

Before you can even process what’s happening, one of his arms is looping around your waist while his hand gently cups your cheek. His lips are then on yours, planting one of the softest, hottest kisses you’ve ever had on you. His lips are smooth and soft, his piercings tickling your bottom lip. Your lips dance against his until you give a soft moan of longing as your arms move to wrap around him, hugging him close. Your parted lips allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of rum and mint there as his tongue gently swirls with yours. You hold each other, kissing among the sea of people. Once again, you feel as if there is no one but you, him, and the throbbing of the music above. 

Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted when the club-goers surrounding you begin to annoyingly scream and whoop over you and Sero. “Oh, shit, they 'bout to fuck on the floor!” someone obnoxiously screams over the music.

Sero pulls away from you, eyeing the faceless voice. “Let me join!” another shouts. 

“Fuck off!” Mina yells from somewhere behind you. “Leave them alone!” You’ve never been so thankful for your friends than at this moment.

Sero smirks down at you, arms still around your waist. “We’ve got ourselves an audience,” he whispers. “Not that I mind some eyes, but I’m more interested in getting you somewhere more…private.” 

His accent makes the word sound like sex to you. Even if that isn’t on the table, you’ll still go anywhere with him. “Where’d you have in mind?” you breathlessly ask.

He trails his fingers from your waist up your arms to lace through your fingers. “Well, if you want the bedroom now, I’m down for that,” he says, making your pussy quiver excitedly beneath your skirt, “but there’s also a cabana on the beach that’s screaming my name right now if you wanted a good view and some quiet.” 

‘Yes!’ your body screams. ‘Do it, bitch!’ But even you know that you can’t give it up to him that fast. All good things come to those who wait, after all. “I’d love that,” you shyly answer. “Can we finish the shots first though?”

You nod at the bar to which Sero chuckles, raising a brow at you. “If you’re dying to get beat by me at my own game, then sure.” 

********* 

The sea is by far the most especially thing you’ve ever seen. It looks even better while drunk. 

After downing two more shots and guzzling down water (and taking a trip to the bathroom beforehand), Sero swoops you away to the seashore right outside the resort where the ocean stretches out for your eyes to behold under the big, white moon that looks so much bigger in the sky tonight. It hovers over the water, making the waves crystalize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky do.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, in awe at the beauty laid before you. “This is beautiful! Look at the moon and the stars!” 

You stand at the top of the sandy shore, pointing at the sky with your heels in your hands. The sea breeze wafts your hair and cools the sweat on your body from the club. You feel good away from the people and activity now, the serenity that the beach provides is too nice to put off. 

Sero is settled down beside you in one of the many cabanas lined up on the beach that are currently empty. He sits on the bed there with his shoes off and an almost-dazed look on his face as he stares at the ocean. “Look at the stars,” he softly sings. “Look how they shine for you…” His cheeks turn red as he stares up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a little drunk.” 

“Me too,” you giggle. “I need to sit down.” You put a hand to your head, feeling light and slightly dizzy from the alcohol. Sero pats the empty seat next to him, smiling up at you. “Feel free, mama. This cabana is open for two.” You flush with heat despite the coolness of the salty, sea breeze as you sit beside him, feeling flustered at being so close to him. Now you don’t have the shots or the music as buffers. There is nothing but the sea and the empty beach. 

However, the silence isn’t awkward––it’s rather peaceful and serene. You dig your toes into the sand while Sero hums to himself, digging into his pocket. He then pulls out a ziplock bag of a few pre-rolled blunts and a lighter. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, pausing to look at you for an answer. You shake your head, giving him the green light to do his thing. You watch as he works, entranced by his veiny hands as he takes out a blunt and ignites the lighter to lit the tip of it. 

You wish his hands were working you instead. 

Still entranced by him, you watch as he wraps his lips around the blunt and takes a short tester puff before putting the lighter away. He takes a deep inhale before exhaling all of the smoke out of his mouth, a peaceful look on his face. “I love doing this on the beach,” he contently sighs. “Nothing like a view of the stars and saltwater breeze while you puff on a blunt.” He gazes at you out of the corner of his eye. “And sitting with a pretty woman.” 

“Whatever,” you tsk, gently smacking his thigh to hide the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel good.” He takes another hit of his blunt, though short. “Well, yeah,” he admits, "but also ‘cause it’s true. You are pretty. Did you see the way the security guard was checkin’ you out when we left?” 

You retrace your mental steps to try to remember, but come up short. “Uh…no,” you respond, not sure if you believe him. He laughs at this, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Exactly, ‘cause you were oblivious to it, but not me. You had eyes on you like bees on honey.” He then holds the blunt between his thumb and forefinger out to you. “Want a hit? You smoke?” You look down at the blunt, slightly intimidated. Then, for some reason, the thrill of trying something new floods you. “Not really,” you admit. "But there’s a first time for everything.” 

You take the blunt between your thumb and forefinger before trying to imitate Sero’s actions. You wrap your lips around the end of the blunt and inhale only to nearly hack up a lung when the smoke invades your lungs. Sero laughs at you while patting you on the back, helping you out. “Take it easy, mama,” he chuckles. “Second time’s the charm as I say. Do it slower.” 

You do as he says and inhale the smoke much slower than before. It goes down easier the second time and you’re even able to hold it in your lungs for longer before exhaling. “Theeeere we go,” Sero praises with a laugh. “I love a girl who doesn’t quit.” 

He lets you puff on the blunt for a few minutes longer, gazing out at the starry sky and sea. He then glances at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Please tell me if this is too personal, but I’m curious about you coming here to boost your confidence. I’d think a woman as beautiful as you are would have plenty of confidence in herself.” 

You can already feel the weed beginning to work its magic. You feel relaxed and kind of sleepy, but not enough to pass out. All of the insecurities and uncertainty you felt before have washed away. You pass Sero the blunt and sit back on your hands, exposing your jiggly tummy a little more. “Well, the reason I’m here is after a hookup gone wrong where this dude told me I was too fat and left in the middle of sex with me. I was gutted by it, so when my girls told me about their trip, I took that chance and came here.” 

You inhale the sea breeze and exhale solemnly, catching Sero’s attention…not that you didn’t have it already. “Finding love when you look like me,” you confess, running a hand over your body. “Like the dating pool isn’t built for girls like me. I’ve tried dating so many times, online manly, but as soon as a guy gets a view of me from the waist down, they want nothing to do with me. If I’m not seen as some extra pushin’ for the cushion, I’m not seen at all.” 

You’re aware that you’re oversharing, but the alcohol, weed, and Sero’s warm personality have all made it where you’re like an open book now. “Not that I mind being perceived sexually,” you reiterate, “but I feel like that’s all guys see when they look at me. I’m a fetish; not a woman who is worthy of affection as well as desire. I deserve better, y’know? I’ve got a good job, a car, an apartment, a pretty face…like everything I have should be worthy to get me a good partner, right? But it’s not. All because of…of…this.” 

You grip the jiggly fat of your stomach, huffing frustratedly to yourself. “I don’t hate being in my body, but society does.” Instantly, like a slap in the face, you realize you’ve fucked up. “Sorry!” you immediately gasp. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I said way too much.” 

Sero is staring at you like he just realized you’re a person and you feel even worse. “Look, I don’t mean to pile this all on you, but you’re so easy to talk to and this weed is gettin’ to me and–“ You abruptly stop when Sero suddenly stands. He takes another puff on his blunt before dropping it into the sand and stubbing it out with his foot. 

He then proceeds to kick off his shoes and socks, strip himself of his shirt to reveal his beautiful body, and reach for his belt to loosen his pants. When his pants fall, you can’t help but admire how good he looks in his briefs. You stare at him, confused, hot, and bothered by the gorgeous view. “What are you doing?” you softly ask. 

“Let’s take a dip,” he says huskily. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he serious, drunk, or just high as a kite? “But…I don’t have a bathing suit.” Sero raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who said anything about that?” Now you know that this man is gone. There’s no way he is seriously considering skinny-dipping…and there’s no way that you’re actually thinking about it! He must see you fighting with yourself because he runs a comforting, soft hand down your arm, his touch making you shiver. “I’d like to see you,” he murmurs, “if that’s okay.” 

You search his face to see if he’s joking or daring you only to laugh at you when you do so, but you find no indication that he’s playing with you. There is a molten tenderness in his gaze that has you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he has in store for you.

So you strip. You start with your top and then your skirt, biting your lip at his sharp intake of breath at the sight of your underwear. Then you’re stripping off your bra, letting your full breasts fall from the cups and against your stomach. Sero’s eyes widen at the sight of you as if you are a piece of art he is admiring in a museum. “Hermosa (beautiful),” he whispers, completely in awe at your body.

You’ve taken enough Spanish in school to know what this word means and it lights your body on fire. He then offers his hand which you take, giggling when he pulls you along to the ocean. “Come on,” he laughs. “Vamos, before the water gets too cold!” 

You want to ask him what the fuck he means because the water is like you stepped into the damn Arctic Ocean when your semi-naked body finally makes contact with it. You gasp as the water shocks your body out of its tired state from the alcohol and weed. Sero keeps his hand in yours despite the crashing waves that roll against your bodies the further you wad into the ocean. Finally, you two settle and just let the water caress you. You sigh in contentment as you tip your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above. 

“Nice, right?” Sero chuckles. You lazily nod, wanting to stay here forever––among the water, stars, and him. You don’t realize how close he’s gotten to you until you’re suddenly staring at his upper torso and the water beads that drip down his abs. “Can I hold you?” he gently asks. You peer up at him through your lashes, afraid to speak in fear of ruining the moment. 

You nod and he slowly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in them. You let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head meets the crook of his shoulder. You embrace him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. There, you two stay, bobbing in the water, linked with one another. “This feels so nice,” you drunkenly confess. “Like a fairytale.” 

“I’d hope so,” he murmurs to you. “You deserve it, mami.” And you start to believe it. After a few silent seconds, he pulls away from you, his eyes as dark as the night sky. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his gaze hopeful. “I know I didn’t ask in the club and I feel bad about that, so I wanted to ask you now and–“ 

You don’t hear the rest of what he has to say because you’re too busy planting your lips on his. This kiss is hungrier now. Your lips move against each other’s like you both are starving for one another. You can tell Sero wants the same thing you want when his hands move below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth. He replies with his own moan and pulls away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

He wordlessly kneels before you in the water and takes both of your breasts into his hands, kneading them gently. “Shit,” he softly hisses to himself, amazed at the sight of your hanging fruit and brown, hardened nipples. 

You softly whimper at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts causing him to move on to other matters. He leans in and latches his lips onto one of your nipples where he begins to suckle on it. You throw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fall from your lips. You can’t yourself, especially when Sero begins to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process. 

Then he switches, giving your other breast the same treatment. Your hands find his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the black locks of his hair. You’re ruining his mullet, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice chokes on a broken moan.

You can’t take this. All of this is going straight to your pussy which is now throbbing and begging for attention between your thick inner thighs. “Please, Sero!” you whine, gripping his hair. “I need you to touch me.” Understanding immediately, Sero stares up at you, looking uncertain. He then stands, his body dripping in water, making your pussy throb even more at the sight of his glistening muscles. “You sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and hushed. 

You practically throw yourself at him, giving him a deep, passionate kiss that nearly takes his breath away. “Yes,” you plead. “Yes, Sero, please. I don’t care, just please touch me.”

You grapple for his shoulders, gripping them in desperation. You don't care how much you come off as desperate or slutty to be sleeping with a man you just met. You need this right now. And Sero is willing to give it all to you. “Okay, baby, okay,” he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your waiting lips. “Let’s get us out of the water first.” He takes your hand and helps you navigate the waves as you make your way out of the water. Once you’re out and standing naked on the shore, you realize the gravity of what you just asked and initiated. Especially when Sero leads you to the cabana. Your eyes flit up to the resort yards away, realizing anyone could come out and see you two naked. “Will anyone see us?” you timidly ask.

“They may, they may not,” Sero replies, a devious smirk on his face. “If they do, they’re in for a treat watchin’ a gorgeous woman gettin’ her pussy eaten.” He then sits you down on the bed and kneels down in front of you. He gently pries your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet pussy. You watch his face change from playful to downright feral as he stares at your cunt. You flush at his expression, still feeling weird about this despite how hot and bothered you are. “But what if–“ 

He shushes you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs. “No more talkin’, mami,” he growls against your inner thighs. “I want my name on your lips if not those pretty moans I heard in the water earlier.” He continues to pepper your thighs in kisses while his hands pin your legs apart, his hold on you firm. He doesn’t want you hiding from him despite your cellulite and stretch marks, and rolls and imperfections. And it feels good. 

You don’t stop him when he dives right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he’s making out with them. You can’t believe the way this man works his mouth! Especially when he starts to flick his tongue along your clit. His tongue swirls around it and flicks it gently depending on how you respond. And shit, are you responding well! Your body can't help but react pleasantly to the sensations––your toes curl; your back arches; your eyes flutter closed; your mouth falls open into an O as moans and gasps fall from your lips. 

Sero is not only good with his tongue, but also with his hands. He reaches up and plays with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues. “H-Harder, please!” you beg to which he pinches the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the bursts of pain making you gush all over his lips. “Fuck, Sero,” you moan. “That feels so good!” 

Sero moans approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably. “Keep feelin’ good for me then, mami,” he says in between wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. “Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head. I can handle it.”

He pauses to stare up into your shocked eyes, a grin on his face and a pussy-drunk look in his eyes. You’ve never had anyone ask that of you before. Plus, your thighs really are on the thicker side. What if you suffocate him? Before you can even agree or refuse, he is already pushing you back onto the bed, emitting a squeal from you. 

He stands on his knees for a moment, taking you in. His lust-blown eyes trail up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you that you either like or dislike. Then he inhales deeply as if struggling to process the beauty in front of him. “Tu cuerpo es un país de las maravillas, mami (your body is a wonderland, mami),” he huskily says. You have no idea what to say to that. All you can do is shyly smile up at him as he smiles down at you, both of you enchanted with each other. 

Then he’s ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head. This gives him better access to your pussy so he can easily tongue-fuck you. As soon as you feel the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit, you are in heaven. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands find his hair, gripping the black locks as your hips begin to grind shamelessly into his face.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums approvingly, keeping up the pace. He doesn’t pause or slow down. He continues to work your pussy just how you want, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above. 

It doesn’t take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you. You can’t help it. His tongue just feels too good! Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risqué position turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sero must realize you’re close because his jaw starts to move faster, accompanying his tonguefucking with porn-worthy moans of his own that nearly throw you over the edge. “Fuck, Sero!” you whine. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna cum!” 

“Mmm-hmm!” he eagerly hums into your pussy. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and proceeds to suck on your clit while his finger begins to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides. But it is enough to push you further and further down that road to orgasming all over him. His darkened eyes flick up to yours, staring you down between your thighs. “Ven por mí,” he demands. “Cum for me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ hold back a damn thing.” He grins up at you, his piercings glistening in the moonlight. “I can take it; I’m a big boy.” 

He attaches your mouth to your pussy again and runs it until you can't help but fall over that edge. “Ven por mí,” he moans into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reach higher pitches. “Ven por mí, ven por mí, ven por mí!” 

And you finally do. That tight knot in your core finally snaps and a wave of euphoria washes over you as you cum all over Sero's face and eager lips with a loud moan that would shatter glass. You see the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushes, your body shivering and shuddering. Your back arches and your hips wind into Sero’s face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally fades, you’re left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so-good. Sero eagerly cleans you up, taking extra care to not overstimulate you as he runs his tongue over your sensitive, twitching pussy. Then he lifts his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices. With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hums to himself. “You taste better than the rum,” he sighs. 

Something in that sentence and the way he looks at you brings something out of you––a passionate, raging fire that can only be tamed by him. Slowly, you bring yourself to sit up in front of him and grab his face to smash your lips against his. He moans into the kiss, surprised at the suddenness of it, but soon melts into it the more your lips move against his. Finally, you pull away and stare into his eyes. “I take it you liked it?” he breathlessly asks. 

“I loved it,” you purr, running your hands up and down his tatted chest. “Now I want to thank you in my way…if that’s okay with you.”

Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his briefs that has only gotten bigger. You also notice the visible wet spot soaking the fabric, meaning the guy was secreting precum when he was eating you out. The idea of this makes the fire inside of you grow. You may as well have told him you want to give him a million dollars with how fast he scrambles up on the bed, ready for whatever you want to do with him. You giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before laying him down on his back. 

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you slither between his thick, muscular thighs and finally, finally, getting at those briefs. You gently pull them down, being careful to not scratch him with your nails, and gasping softly when his cock springs free from its trap. It pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box, hard, thick, and veiny. There is nothing but smooth skin down there, Sero’s pubic hair completely shaven. He notices you looking and blushes. “I sweat a lot down there in the summertime,” he sheepishly explains. “So I shaved…it isn't weird, is it?” 

You don’t even answer him. You just wordlessly take his dick in your hand, your pussy throbbing at how heavy it feels in your palm. You feel him tense at the feeling of your soft hand on him which coaxes you to begin stroking him, just seeing how he feels. He is soft and smooth, his skin stretching back and forth along his dick as you stroke him.

You pay attention to his body language, peering up at him every so often to see how he’s responding to your touch. He lays with his hands fisting the cushions underneath him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes closed. Deciding you’ve got him right where you want him, you spit into the palm of your hand and continue to stroke him, lubing him up.

Once his dick is shining in your spit, you attach your lips to the top half of him while your hand busies itself with the bottom half. “Fuck,” Sero sighs when your lips wrap around his shaft. “Tan apretada (so tight)…” 

You hollow your cheeks and open your throat to take him easier, realizing how big he is the moment he enters your mouth. He practically stretches your throat! How would it feel to get him inside of you? The thought makes you curious to take him deeper. After a few slow test runs where you slide your mouth up and down along his head, you begin taking him deeper. Sero’s hand moves to your head while his other arm moves behind his head, his hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Easy, mama,” he coos. “Take your time. Don’t take any more than you think you can.” You do as he says, only taking as much as your throat will allow. You gag around his cock as you begin to bob your head up and down along it, emitting orgasmic groans and swears in Spanish from his sinful lips. “Mierda! (Shit!)” he hisses, his hand tightening on your hair. “Lo estás haciendo tan bien…you’re doin’ so good for me, baby.” 

He continues to whisper praise as you gag and bob around him, using as much of your skill as you can. This includes using your free hand to stroke his balls, tugging on them when he begs you to. You ignore the ache of your knees in the sand and the tears pricking at your eyes, no doubt fucking up your eye makeup. The control he allows you makes you want to give him the best neck of his life, hopefully causing him to nut deep down your throat. You’ll gladly take all of it. 

Soon he begins to thrust into your mouth, his hips bumping against your chin as his cock fucks your throat. “Still doin’ okay?” he asks, to which you nod, emitting a moan from him when the roof of your mouth slides along his dick. “God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he whines. Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if someone came out here and saw me fuckin’ that pretty throat of yours?” 

You tilt your head up to look up at him better, loving the view of his body as he bumps your hips against your face again and again. Spit drips from your lips the sloppier your head gets, only making him fuck your face harder. “You like that idea, don’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly. “Naughty girl. What if that someone is one of your girlfriends? What if it’s a resort worker? You wanna be seen on your knees with dick deep down your throat?” 

‘Yes,’ you think, your pussy crying beneath you. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ You want that more than anything. You don't care how slutty that makes you. You want to be his slut tonight. You want to be his everything and more, if just for one night. Before you can eagerly finish him off, he slides his wet cock out of your mouth, sighing as he does so. You look up at him, confused. Doesn’t he want to cum down your throat? 

“You can say no if you want to,” he says, his chest heaving, “but I’m gonna be real with you: I wanna fuck you. I don’t care if it’s out here or back at one of our rooms, but if I’m gonna cum, I wanna feel that pussy wrapped around me first.” His words cause your pussy to gush desperately around nothing. You’ve never wanted someone inside you more. “I want that too,” you breathlessly answer, hurriedly getting to your feet. Sero does the same, taking your hands in his. “We can go back to my room, if you want. If the girls are there, we can go to yours.” 

Sero is more than happy to agree with that judging by how his cock twitches between his thighs. 

After gathering your clothes and other items, you both hastily dress in the resort robes to avoid getting kicked out of the lobby for entering nude before hurrying to the resort and through the lobby for the elevators. You use your key card to get upstairs, giggling at Sero’s wandering hands along your hips and his lips on your neck. When you finally make it to your floor, the man carries you–carries you–to your room. When you’re finally at your door, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for his silence. You’re not sure if the girls are back yet. 

Carefully, you unlock your door with the card and open the door to find your hotel room still quiet, dark, and neatly cleaned, meaning only the floor maid was in here. You’re going to feel so bad for ruining her nice work later, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad now.

When the door finally shuts, Sero is on you instantly, his hands ripping off your robe and his lips hastily moving against yours. You’re no better. You can't stop yourself from tossing his clothes off too, revealing his naked body and hard cock in the silver moonlight that pours through the window overlooking the resort’s pool and beach in the distance. “I need to fuck you,” he huffs against your lips, his hands squeezing your ass. “Is it okay if I do that? It’s okay to say no if you don’t–“ 

You silence him with a kiss, gently sucking on his tongue and exposing yourself for your oral fixation. “Shut up and fuck me, Sero,” you purr to him. “I want you to take me to my bed and fill my pussy up the way I know you can.” You then pluck the robe tie from the floor, dangling it in his face. “And I want you to use this on me…please?” Despite feeling emboldened to talk to him in such a demanding manner, that shyness still peeks through. 

Sero looks stunned at your naughty request before a smile creeps onto his lips. “I should’ve realized how freaky you were,” he murmurs before pressing a wet, passionate kiss on your lips that makes you think of his mouth in other places. “Let’s waste no more time then.” He takes your hand and leads you to your bed which is right across from Mina and Uraraka’s. You were so happy that your room came with separate beds since you like to sleep with your panties off. 

As soon as you plop down on the bed, Sero is hovering over you, his knees on either side of your body. He holds the rope in his hands, staring down at you questionably. With a nod and a reassuring smile, you raise your wrists towards him. Take me.

He doesn’t need any other confirmation that this is what you want. He takes your wrists and wraps them in the tie before attaching them to your headboard so your wrists dangle. “Good?” he asks. You move your wrists around, testing out the new binds. Not too tight but not too loose either.

You nod and he pecks you on the lips before prying your thighs apart. You raise your hips up to meet him, gasping when his cock begins to slide against your slit. His eyes, hooded and hazy with lust, tick up to meet yours. “You still want this?” he huskily asks. You nod, whimpering with need and already yanking helplessly on your binds. 

“No,” he firmly replies. “Don’t just nod. I need your words, mami. Tell me you want me.” He slides his cock up, nudging the head against your clit. “Tell me you want all of this dick inside of this pretty lil’ pussy.” You moan in pure desperation, going crazy with need. “Yes, I want you!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes. “Please, Sero! Please just fuck me, Papi!” 

The word slips out before you realize it, but Sero catches it immediately. You see his eyes widen an inch and then, in a flash, his entire personality shifts. As soon as he finally slides his cock head inside of you, you know that this is a different person in your bed. He is no longer the sweet, upbeat, concerned man you met earlier at the nightclub, but someone more dominant. Someone who has no problem breaking you completely and then putting you back together again. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“Say that again,” he growls, beginning to roll his hips, sliding his cock head in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace. “Call me that again.” 

Weak moans leave your quivering lips as you struggle to stay still, afraid he’ll stop if you move. “Papi,” you whine, “please, please fuck me. I can't take much more of this. Please, please just–“ 

Your pleas are silenced when Sero slides in a little deeper, filling you up. A mutual gasp leaves your lips as your pussy walls tighten around him, keeping him nice and snug inside of you. He keeps up the slow thrusts, letting you get used to his girth. “That feel good, mami?” he huffs. “You like this?” 

As if he can’t see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and hear the moans coming out of you. “Yes, papi!” you sob. “Yes, I love it! Please go deeper!” Sero does just that, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to bump his hips against you a little faster now, never going any harder than you want him to. It is just the right speed and pressure to slide against your G-spot, causing you to cry to the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” Sero laughs, staring down at you. “You like this. You love gettin’ filled by a stranger’s dick, don’t you?” His hand finds your throat, applying a bit of pressure and emitting a gasp from you. “This was all you needed to give you that confidence boost, right? Just to get slutted out the way you need to be.” 

“Sero,” you groan, your pussy squeezing and clenching around his cock from his words. He leans down close to you, his lips nearly grazing yours as he continues to fuck you into the mattress. “But only I could’ve done this job right,” he whispers. “Only I can fuck you good like this. Right, princessa?”

His hips move faster, harder, his pelvis bumping against your throbbing clit that is close to exploding from the amount of stimulation and care it’s receiving. “Sero!” you loudly sob, gripping the tie around your wrists for dear life. Without a warning, Sero suddenly tosses your legs up to your ears so he can sink in deeper, causing you to nearly scream out as you see heaven’s light before your eyes.

“Tell me,” he grunts, his eyes posted firmly on yours. “Tell me only I can fuck you right like this. Tell me how good it feels!” Whines begin to leave his lips the more rapidly he fucks you, causing your titties to jiggle and the bed to rock. 

“So good!” you babble as your pussy squelches and clenches around him. “You’re making me feel so good, papi! I’m gonna cum soon!” You can feel your orgasm beginning to rise the more he grinds his cock into you, filling you to the brim with him. 

“Me too,” he groans. “Dios mío (my God), you just feel to fuckin’ good. And you look so pretty stretched around my dick.” He takes his hand off of your neck and strokes your cheek, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“Eres tan bonita (you’re so pretty),” he murmurs, staring down at you in utter adoration. “Eres mia…you’re mine now, honey. I don’t give a fuck if it’s just for the rest of your vacation. I’ll make you mine again and again, every fuckin’ day and night, so you won’t even look at another man back at home.” 

He begins to fuck you right into the headboard where luckily you have a pillow to cushion the blows. The feeling of him hitting that spot again and again without fail is so intense that you can’t help the noises that escape you––screams, cries, and sobs of pure, molten pleasure that you know you’ll never get again. He knows it too and that’s why he begins to slow down, working his hips the way he did on that dance floor. It’s too much on your body, too much on your pussy, and you can feel yourself beginning to reach your limit. 

Sero leans down to your ear, nibbling on the flesh of your earlobe. “I want you to cum with me,” he whispers into your ear. “Cum around this dick. Cum for me, mami.” He repeats the same line in Spanish, his husky voice filling your ear as his cock kisses your G-spot and his fingers move down to rub your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of no return. 

It doesn't take long for you to finally burst around his cock the way you want to. You cum with a long, loud moan that tears out of you as your orgasm washes over you. The moment your pussy clenches around Sero’s cock is the moment he cums too. He grips your hips and swears in Spanish before he pulls out.

It doesn't take long for him. He rapidly pumps his cock in front of your face before his nut spurts all over your body. You gasp as his moans bounce off of the walls, his cum feeling warm on your skin. When you look down, you find it the creamy substance coating your breasts, thighs, and jiggly tummy. There’s even some on your ass due to how high he has your legs up. You are completely covered in him and his scent. And you love it. 

Finally, after he feebly gropes one of your breasts and presses a kiss to your foot, Sero unties your wrists and pulls his flaccid cock out of your tender, sensitive pussy, emitting a soft, weak moan from you. Then he’s rolling off of you and plopping down beside you on your bed, exhaustion overtaking him. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow and processing what just happened. You just had sex with a total stranger. You let him tie you up and fuck you. You let him see your naked body. What shocks you is though you feel stunned at the whole thing, there is no ounce of shame or embarrassment anywhere inside of you. If anything, you feel satisfied with what just transpired.

You turn to Sero, realizing he’s looking at you already, his eyes shimmering in the slant of moonlight pouring through the window. “I meant what I said, you know,” he says, sounding out of breath. You blink at him, confused. “I want to be here with you, every day and night.” A blush coats his cheeks. “I’d like to spend your vacation with you…if you wouldn’t mind.” 

You blink at him again, stunned to silence. You have to be dreaming. You just have to be. There is no way this fine-ass man that you just met and gave up your pussy to is really talking about willingly spending the rest of vacation with you. He could have anyone he wants with that face, voice, and body, but yet here he is, laying in your bed, completely pussy-whipped for you and enthralled by your body.

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe I am that pretty. Maybe I am that sexy bitch he sees. Maybe I am beautiful.” 

“Is that okay?” Sero timidly asks, becoming nervous. Instead of verbally answering, you lean forward and press a long, passionate kiss to his lips that draws a purr of approval out of him. You pull away, staring up into his eyes. “Sero, you’re acting like you didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life,” you giggle. “Why wouldn’t I want that?” 

The biggest, brightest grin stretches across Sero’s lips at your answer and he leans in to bring you into another open-mouthed kiss that has you craving more. “You know what this calls for, right?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. Heat pools inside of your core as your mind goes to other places. ‘Please say more sex.’

“A smoke,” he answers, giving you a wink. Though that isn’t the answer you were hoping for, you also know that you have plenty of time to persuade him for another round tonight. He gets out of bed to get his jeans and retrieves his baggie of blunts from out of his back pocket.

Then he swiftly gets back into bed with you and prepares a blunt for you to share. He does the test smoke first and you watch, aroused and entranced, as the smoke billows from between his pink lips. He then passes it to you and laces an arm around your shoulder, watching you lazily as you puff on the blunt. The silence that surrounds you is serene and comfortable as you pass the blunt back and forth between one another. 

When you pass the blunt back to Sero after your turn, you flush with embarrassment as naughty thoughts run through your head. “You think we can try something?” you timidly ask. Sero raises a brow. “I’ve…never shotgun with anyone before,” you softly confess, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Sero lets out a laugh that you weren’t expecting. “And you wanna do it with me?” he asks, his smile teasing and playful, making you flush even more. “I think I’m honored and turned on.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before passing you the blunt. “Here, you inhale first.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke, letting it fill your lungs. He slowly leans in with his lips parted as if to kiss you, silently coaxing you to blow the smoke into his mouth in one slow, steady rhythm. You feel even more relaxed now–not just because the weed is working on you, but because you realize that Sero is a man who doesn’t judge.

He accepts every single part of you, inside and out. The thought of leaving him when vacation is over almost pains you, but you’re not going to think about that right now. Tonight and the next fun-filled days here are all that matters. 

“Feel good?” he chuckles, admiring your hooded eyes. You slowly nod, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Now it’s your turn.” He takes the blunt and puffs on it pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Come here,” he murmurs, and you’re helpless to resist him. You lean in, but he takes you by surprise when he firmly places his hands on your hips and flips you onto him so you’re now straddling him. 

You slowly part your quivering lips for him and nearly moan when he blows the smoke into your mouth in an indirect kiss. It is just as addictive and as sexy as a direct one, but nothing beats Sero’s lips on yours. You lean in and devour his mouth, swirling your tongue around with his. He tastes like weed, mint, and rum. You find yourself nearly shoving your tongue down his throat which he groans at, his hands grabbing your ass and giving you a smack that has your pussy crying. 

When you pull away, a sheen line of saliva connects to your bottom lips. “Round two then?” he asks, staring up at you with hooded eyes.

Before you can say yes or even plant your pussy on his cock that you feel hardening beneath you, you hear the hotel door unlock. Your heart leaps as you immediately jump off of Sero and hide under the covers while he sits up, hiding you from the strangers behind the door. 

In walks Mina and Uraraka, drunk and hyped up on attraction judging by the two hot strangers trailing in behind them. One is tall, buff, and redheaded with a toothy grin and his hand in Mina’s while the other is shorter but just as fit and sexy with platinum-blonde hair and crimson eyes that you know have panties dropping. His hand is on Uraraka’s lower back, his fingers toying with the little strings keeping her dress together. 

“So this is our room,” Mina giggles, inviting the men inside. “We have three different beds, so we can–“ She stops when her eyes land on you and Sero, naked under the sheets and staring at the four like deers in headlights. Uraraka gasps, covering her mouth and going as red as a tomato. 

“Looks like your room is preoccupied right now,” the redhead chuckles, grinning at Sero. “See you finally got her, man!” The blonde rolls his eyes, his hand still on Uraraka’s backside. “It’s about fuckin’ time,” he grumbles. “He’s been eyein’ this woman down the entire night like an idiot.” 

Sero looks at Mina and Uraraka who look like they want to shoot themselves. “I see you met my friends, girls,” he chuckles. “You’ve got good taste.”

The redhead winks at him and wraps an arm around Mina's waist. “Y’know, why don’t we go back to our room? We’ve got a hot tub, a minibar, and a great view of the beach. We could give these two some much-needed privacy, too.” 

Mina quickly nods and practically pushes the three out of the room, winking at you on the way out. The door shuts behind them, leaving you two alone once more.

Sero turns to face you and slithers his hand up your thigh. “So,” he purrs, “we still on for round 2?” He could’ve asked for five rounds and you would’ve given it to them. 

The rest of the night is spent in bed, with kisses, touches, snuggling, and endless pleasure that make you want to miss your flight at the end of the week. 

THE END. 

[belladonazeppole]

A Meeting with Lady Luck

Who would guess that his business trip to Las Vegas would be actually worthy. Since the woman in front of him is gorgeous; a dainty doll looking even smaller in her cocoon coat, her skin a deep bronze, her hair in a short bob with bangs but what really caught his attention was her eyes.

Amber. He never saw amber eyes before but was completaly sure that she had the most beautiful pair, they were curious similar to the ones of a cat.

"May I ask for your name, doll?"

"Lady Luck."

From the pretty lady came the deepest and smoothest voice while blowing her cigar smoke towards him, this make him froze in his spot and slowly glaring at "her" and noticing "her" face better now closer, he looks down and finally sees it.

An adam's apple.

Shit, she wasn't a doll but a jake!

"Something wrong, baby?" "She" ask him with clear amusement all over his face, after a few moments he compise hilmself since he still had his mouth wide open of the shock. "Cat got your tongue?" She said while entering to the casino, crushing her cigar under her heel and glazing at him.

Oh...

Oh!!!

He was waiting for him!!

Wait I second he would absoluty make me expend all my money in the casino and besides I not into dudes. He thought quickly, but Victor make the big mistake of looking again to Lady Luck since he just lower his coat to show Victor his delicate back while winking at him. Eh, I wasn't that straight anyways. He thought while hurriedly going to Lady Luck side and offering his arm which he gladly takes.

"So, what is your name, stud?"

"Victor."

Good thing that Victor was rich. Since he lost a lot of money in the casino and the bar but he took Lady Luck that night to his hotel room soo who was really the loser, right?

After that night Victor was hook, line and sink!

Even if Victor need to go back to his work in another state he make sure to send Lady Luck money, he may told him it was weird as fuck but Victor just insist that he just deserve nice things, he also make sure to at least going a full weekend to the casino.

Victor just can't get enough of him! He never meet somebody as witty, cultured and charming as Lady Luck or somebody that could drink that much is be that small or that could be a man twice his size for disrespecting some of the waitress or tried to touch him inappropriately.

The sex was amazing... even if he never told him his real name.

Not knowing his real name never stop him from still visiting Lady Luck, not just for sex of course, they just talk in his hotel room. How Luck desire in traveling to other countries and make his magic show know, he looked so passionate and sincere talking about his dreams.

Victor always felt lonely after he had to leave.

That is gonna change this night since today was the day, this night he would ask Lady Luck for a date and his real name. Victor had the flowers, his suit ironed and even brought the cigars that she fancied. No more chickening out in the nick of time. He fucking got this, he didn't care that he looked like a weirdo wandering around with a bouquet of flowers in the casino,

He had a date with destiny!

Although he wasn't particularly lucky in these moment.

Victor tried to look for him at his hostess station but he wasn't there.

Maybe he was covering for somebody as a dealer? No.

As a bartender? Neither.

In the dressing room? He doesn't think so.

Lady Luck didn't have any act scheduled today. He knew this since he bribe somebody from backstage to give Victor his schedule. But it was his last option but it was useless in the end since he wasn't there either. In fact Victor only saw that none of his things were there anymore, he just disappeared.

As if he had never been there.

"Oh darling…." Victor turns around and recognizes the person as Lady Luck's assistant, Veronica he believes, when she was doing her magic tricks as well as her dancing partner. "He just left."

"He left?" He asks her in shock at the news, ignoring the pitiful expression the woman was currently showing him. "To where?"

Maybe he could go.

"Italy."

"Oh…" Or not. "But he wanted me to give this to you." She quickly said as she handed him a card, an ace of diamonds, at first he thought it was a sick last joke until he flipped it over.

Stefan.

Ah....

At least he got his name.

[arosesstorm]

summer temptation; taehyung x reader

words count: a long one

fem reader! x taehyung mostly

warning: none, karaoke singing

summary: Falling for taehyung was not how she imagined her last summer before college to go; watching him fall for her sister was not how she wished to spend her last days home.

But it had happened, and even if a year later the couple had broken up, taehyung was still a forbidden fruit: coming home for vacation, she had to remind herself that every now and then.

English is not my first language loves, trying my best, enjoy

y/n had been home for less than a week.

less than a week.

and everything was already scattering to pieces.

summer had finally arrived, and with the new warm breeze, y/n had packed her bags and left for home.

college had been especially tough lately and there was nothing she longed more than lazy days spent doing nothing.

there was just one thought that left her restless, a name that played with her heart, a forbidden word that danced on her lips.

going home meant going back to what she had left behind, and behind her awaited a dumb, gigantic crush for a boy she was not supposed to like.

Kim Taehyung entered her life dancing his way in.

getting to meet him during a rainy day of September had been pleasant, getting acquainted with him had been a dangerous ride.

Kim Taehyung barged in her life in a heartbeat and placed his roots so deep she just couldn't radicate him.

while she spent last summer falling for the boy, who suddenly used to hang out at her house every other afternoon, by the end of July she found out that that same very boy was now Lin's boyfriend.

Lin, her sister.

the news came like a stab in the stomach, but nonetheless, she reasoned with herself it would have just been a month, just a month, before she would have left for college; that stupid crush was meant to fade away anyway.

the couple lasted for some months; y/n really didn't get the details, but just 2 weeks before coming back home, during a call y/n's sister had confessed the relationship with the boy had been done and dusted for good.

Lin did not mention the reason behind it, but her cold tone and the nonchalant demeanor was hinting that it was not important enough.

her crush was long gone though.

That's what she thought, until she saw Taehyung again at the bar that Saturday night.

Together with her longtime friends Yoongi and Hoseok, y/n passed by the boy's group of friends when she heard her name being called.

Taehyung was standing there, prettier than ever, his dark hair falling into his eyes as his purple lips parted in a smile.

"look who the sea brought us" he chuckled softly.

y/n stood frozen like an idiot, shifting in her place as Hoseok and Jimin exchanged greetings.

taehyung looked back a the girl "I haven't seen you in so long" he spoke "you've grown, a lot prettier too".

y/n regained her words as she spoke for the first time "and you've grown an inch or two, I see, or are the hair?".

taehyung hummed smiling, "are college boys treating you right?"

y/n felt a wave of humiliation swipe her way, so she stood firmer: "extremely".

Taehyung chuckled again, amused this time, "not so shy anymore are we y/n?"

the way his words were leaving his lips, the way the alcohol was making them look so shiny, so kissable.

"I don't recall being shy, maybe you were too busy to notice?" she felt herself ask, words leaving her mouth freely as Hoseok swinged his arm around her shoulder.

"maybe we should leave" the boy spoke into her ear, but y\n's dark pupils were fixed to the tall man before her.

Taehyung's stare got intense too, scary almost, as his eyes travelled her body up and down.

"maybe" he confessed and for the first time since she met him, she felt seen by the man.

"do you guys want to tag along?" Namjoon, one of Taehyung's close friends suddenly asked and for the first time that night, y/n aknolowdged there were other people around.

A sudden fear bit at her heart and she looked at her friends, terrified.

"thanks, man, maybe another time" Yoongi had spoken on their behalf, his tone stern as the trio left the crowd.

"your face's green" Hoseok noticed.

"I think I have to throw up".

ten minutes later, y/n found herself on her knees, on the cold bathroom floor, head bent over a toilet seat, as Hoseok held her hair high in a ponytail.

"god, I'm gonna throw up too" the boy protested disgusted as y/n could do nothing but keep on going.

"just keep her hair up" yoongi spoke up.

his face was showing nothing but pure resentment as he leaned against the door frame, preventing anyone from entering, saving y/n from utter humiliation.

"I thought it was over" she pleaded, "I thought I was over it!".

"You are, it's just the alcohol talking" yoongi reassured.

"the way he was looking at me!" y/n cried again, "like I'm some kiddo he saw grow up!".

"The man's a jerk" yoongi kept on adding fuel.

Hoseok spoke up, his fingers carefully collecting all of y/n's hair, "you have liked him for a long time; even before he got with Lin".

"that's not the point" y/n spoke finally, flushing the toilet as she got up to the sink.

"Listen, his group of friends? Joon, Kook and Jimin?" yoongi laughed aloud "who you hang out with kinda tells who you are".

"cmon they're not that bad" hoseok argued back.

"sure, kook's just the town's womanizer; Joon if is half his father just proves my point and park jimin's-"

y/n remerged from the sink "don't you bring Jimin into this, you know I adore the man".

"fine, I won't talk about the dude, but I still can't understand how Jin hangs out with them" the blonde wondered as Hoseok handed y/n a towel to dry herself.

"again, you're being too judgmental" Hoseok noticed.

"yeah really? look at her" yoongi pointed toward the girl: her bare face a mess.

"hey!" she had barked back.

"I mean- Kim Taehyung has done enough damage".

"I don't wanna hear it, let's just go home".

for the three following nights, y/n couldn't seem to find peace as she turned and turned around in bed at night.

the thought of the boy alone keeping her wondering what it was about Kim Taehyung that left her hanging.

yes, the boy was indeed beautiful, but again, there were a dozen of other very fine men, starting from her friends.

then what was it?

what had Kim Taehyung that was so special?

the line of questions were broken on the forth night, by a text message.

park jimin: hey buttercup, feel like hanging?

y/n: what are you up to, park jimin?

park jimin: seeing you(?)

y/n: mh, if so

y/n: pizza and movie at mine?

park jimin: my fav, be there in half an hour

jimin was a cool guy, and a great friend too, but it was no secret he leaned more on Taehyung's side, so the timing was just highly suspicious.

his sudden request was a bit odd, but as y/n spent the night devouring pizza and sharing stories on the carpet of her living room with the guy, she had to scold herself: how could she think Jimin, that sweet boy who was laughing while eating pop-corn beside her had any ulterior motive than to spend time with her?

"I hope Lin feels better now" the boy spoke then, his eyes never leaving the screen as his words were aimed at her.

"what do you mean?" she had asked while a scary scene came up.

"with the break up and all, you know her and Taehyung have broken up months ago, right?".

"she's good" y/n had replied, way more scared from Jimin's smirk than the movie itself.

"I'd hate to think she's turning you against us" the boy sighed.

"what?" she had twisted her head so fast her neck hurt.

"just saying" the boy replied, his hand going for the pack of popcorns as his eyes never left the movie.

not even as she kept staring at him, deciphering, pondering, considering.

"she's not turning me against you, against him, we didn't even talk about it".

"cool! than you won't have a problem coming to the karaoke on Saturday night, right?"

"sure, why wouldn't I?" she had instantly replied, upset about having agreed to hang with the guys, and more upset about having fallen head deep into jimin's scheme.

the boy smiled sweetly, finally turning to look at her, popcorn in hand as his dark locks fell into his eyes: "want some?"

"I can't believe I agreed to this" Yoongi puffed, his hands on the staring wheel as he looked at the red light in front of them.

"well me neither Yoongs if that helps" y/n spoke from the passenger seat.

"it doesn't".

Hoseok's head emerged from the back seats: "Lin knows you're going, right?"

"no"

"at least Jin's gonna be there" Yoongi mumbled to himself as the light went green.

"what do you mean no?"

"I mean no, I didn't tell her"

"why?"

y/n's anxious state made her swing forward, messing with the radio "let's listen to some music yeah?"

the ride had been short, way too short, in fact in a heartbeat the trio had found itself in front of a neon sing, the word "soul karaoke" lighting up the night sky.

"are we really going in?" y\n had asked, her voice unsure.

"well we drove till here" Yoongi casually replied, that same uncertainty in his voice as well.

"let's just go!" Hoseok had argued, pushing the two unsure souls inside the complex.

the entrance was the smallest they had ever seen as the trio got hit by the cutting smell of stuffy and alcohool.

"what room are you guys here for?" the woman at the desk asked, as y/n checked her last messages with Jimin.

"7" she replied, as the woman kindly showed them the way, "third room to the left, call me if you need anything" and then she disappeared into one of the corridors and y/n felt the dumb urge to follow her.

"again, are we really going in?" she had asked as Hoseok stepped forward, his hand on the door knob as he opened it, "try to relax a bit" he had said through gritted teeth.

the room they stepped into was spacious, nothing like the karaoke's little entrance.

a long line of sofas was hugging the room's walls, as the table in the centre of the room was full of bottles and used cups.

the room was dark, the only light coming from the the little led above their heads as it turned and turned and turned, y/n could only see in colors: purple, pink, yellow, blue, red.

the room was swallowed by the shadows, yet she would have found Taehyung anywhere.

Jimin happened to have just finished a song as he held the microphone close to his lips cheering for the arrival of new incomers.

"here they are! y/n you came!" he stumbled forward, an arm enveloping her in a semi hug "she's the best! I mean it, the best!".

"how much did you drink?" yoongi asked then as jimin looked at the man scrunching up his nose, "enough" he said, looking closely at Yoongi's face: "you pretty" he had suddenly said, taking Hoseok under his arm and leaving the circle laughing like a kid.

yoongi snorted flustered, "you owe me big time".

Namjoon had came forward then, acknowledging the new arrivals as the rest of his group greeted quickly the incomers.

"sorry for that, he's a lil extra when he drinks".

Yoongi's eyes relaxed as they rested on a man sitting by the couches, smiling his way.

"Jin hyung is here, thank god!" he had said then, leaving y/n to stand awkwardly in front of Namjoon as he cracked a laugh: "he doesn't really like us, does he?".

"oh no! he does, he's just, a bit hard to decipher" y/n replied, as Namjoon smiled wildly, "it's fine, I know what people assume about us".

"What do you mean?" she had asked but as Namjoon was about to reply, someone greeted the duo, y/n's head snapping instantly.

Taehyung was standing there, a drink in his hand as the shirt he wore colored green and y/n knew, instantly, that she was not over him.

"hey" she had spoke, not trusting her own voice.

"here" the man handed her the cup as the girl accepted it hesitantly.

"I swear I'm not trying to poison you" he had joked to which namjoon smiled softly.

"guess it's my turn to embarrass myself" The older than said, taking the mic from the table.

taehyung was quick to leave the friend, guiding y/n to sit on the couch with him.

which she did, rather awkwardly too.

"so, how have you been?"

taehyung wasted zero time as a slow ballad played in the background, Namjoon's highs making her giggle.

"pretty cool, college's hard, though"

"oh sure, still miss knows-it-all?" the guy had joked again, smiling wildly as y/n fired him with a stare.

"pardon?"

"you know, your control-freak-mode?"

there was something about making her mad that taehyung enjoyed so damn much; it was fun: teasing, provoking, watching her play with her hair, waiting for her to bark back.

"yeah it's still there, what about your clamidia? Didn't Jessica Parker gift you with it?"

taehyung's hands flew in the air immediately: "defeated".

y/n, incredibly, smiled.

"seriously though, is college like you had imagined?" the boy asked, his tone hesitant.

"I don't know" y/n suddenly blurted out, her eyes traveling the room full of people, "kinda miss home".

taehyung smiled softly, his shirt coloring red now, "home misses you too".

and there had been a moment, a second of silence, not a word spoken as y/n chuckled softly, her attention back to the man.

"how have you been anyway?"

"me?" Taehyung's tone was surprised, playful.

"well, my dad sold his store so he's finally taking a rest"

y/n smiled: "I'm glad".

"and I started to wonder if I should continue my studies too"

"yeah?" y/n's eyes finally lightened up with that light taehyung always knew and the boy found himself instantly grin.

"did you find something you like?"

"yeah, I was thinking about art"

the expression on y/n's face was unbeatable.

she smiled widely, hands reaching to rest on taehyng's one as she spoke: "I'm so happy taehyung! I knew you had it in you, I knew you would have done great things! I just knew it."

and for taehyung it was crystal clear then, the clearest it had ever been, he had been an idiot not to notice sooner, he had been the blindest man on earth.

so he took the girl's hand, holding softly as his smile reached his eyes.

the gesture bringing y/n back down to earth.

"I'm sorry about Lin" she had said suddenly, as if to bring back the ghost of her, as to remind them both she still stood between them, even if she was not in the room at all.

"thanks" was his reply, stern, almost bored as his gaze fell to his empty cup.

"did she tell you anything?"

y/n shook her head, "just that it was over".

Taehyung's eyes were still on her, she didn't look one bit like her sister and he felt suddenly embarrassed he didn't notice sooner how pretty she really was.

when he spoke again, y/n felt a stab pass through her heart: "is it too late to say I did the wrong choice?"

"I guess it is" she had replied after a moment of hesitation, hands leaving, body distancing, hearts detangling as she smiled apologetically, getting up from the couch and leaving him behind.

taehyung thought it was good to finally have you around, coming to parties, spending afternoons together, walking by the beach, he really thought you two were getting back on good terms, just like it was before.

sadly, he didn't ponder the consequences of his choices.

you, with his friends, you, getting to know them.

it wasn't until that Saturday night, as he was sit by the couches, alcohol burning in his throat, as he watched you dance, Jungkook's hands on you, smiling, singing, touching, that he finally understood the tremendous mistake he had done.

"if you don't know this one I'm leaving the floor" jungkook had leaned closer to say as he was met with her grin.

"I can't believe it!" jungkook cried out loud, looking at her in disbelief before trying to make a run for it.

y/n was quick to held him back as she laughed out loud, "wait please, I swear I'll listen to Charlie Puth's album as soon as I'm home".

"screw it, we'll listen to it together on our way back" the boy smiled as he stumbled closer.

it was almost painful to watch, taehyung had realized, so his next move wasn't exactly made with wage.

the cup was left on the table as the man got up and stumbled his way through the crowd.

he didn't waste no time moving forward, destroying their pretty show, coming by the side, looking jungkook dead in the eyes.

"tae-"

"how much longer will this take?"

"what?" jungkook was dumbfounded as he stared at his best friend sending him thunderbolts.

"I asked how long till you convince her to sleep with you" the boy had replied, leaving jungkook dumbfounded.

"pardon?" you had asked, looking at taehyung's profile closely, he didn't even make the effort of looking at you while he was talking.

"it's getting kinda pathetic watching you two beg to get into each other's pants".

"taehyung!" jungkook was angry now, as he made a step forward, his chest founding y/n's soft hand.

"leave it kook, let's not waste time".

and taehyung didn't know why, but the way her voice sounded, the way she didn't fight back, the maturity she spat in his face, made him see stars.

jungkook had left for the table, as y/n made her way outside, saying she needed some air.

taehyung could do nothing but follow behind like a lost soul, like a starved man.

"y/n" but it was no use, she was stumping outside into the chilly hair.

"y/n, wait!" it wasn't until he reached for her, grabbing her shoulder that she turned around.

"what do you want from me?" she had asked.

taehyung didn't know what to reply.

"you think you have any right to cause a scene like that?"

"i do."

"what?"

"I said I do."

"no taehyung you don't!" she was furious now as she inhaled slowly, a hand detangling her hair as the clear light of the moon played with her features.

she was the prettiest thing taehyung had ever seen.

"y/n" he had repeated then, in the softest voice possible, taking a step closer as his hands went for her cheeks, stroking softly.

"let me in" he had begged, with a urgency y/n felt suddenly vulnerable.

honesty, she reasoned quickly, her greatest weapon now was honesty.

"I did, a year ago, and it brought me nothing but heartbreak"

"I'm sorry" taehyung mumbled, his eyes closed as he kept on caressing her face.

y/n could feel his breath on her cheeks.

"please, forgive me" he had begged then.

"tae" she mumbled, suddenly bold as she rested her hands above Taehyung's.

"I did forgive you, but I can't let it get to me, not this time" she confessed, her hands taking the boy's far from her face as she glanced at him one last time, leaving the man behind, making her way inside.

"so what now? are you going to go out with Kook?" he had yelled out, freaked out by the possibility, devastated by the thought of giving her up for good.

but her answer was what left him hopeless, as she turned around "maybe" she had said, leaving taehyung out in the night, leaving him behind just like she did when she left for college.

"what's going on with you?"

Hope leaned with his back on the kitchen counter as y/n was filling yet another bowl with junk food.

she had been home for the past week, wishing to see no other form of living creature for as long as possibile, yet, her two friends had forced her in a night in, watching movies and eating trash.

"nothing" she replied instantly, her eyes focused on the yellowish bag of chips.

"is it about jungkook?"

"no"

"I imagined"

hope's hand left his side to rest on her shoulder, a soft gesture that made her eyes soft.

"do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm a terrible sister" was all y/n felt the strength to say, her hands tight in fists.

-> part 2?

© 2023 of Mia (arosesstorm). All Rights Reserved.

[stardust-kenobi]

Perfect

Echo x Fem!Reader

Summary: During your shift at the bar, an angry customer yells something hurtful at you, and Echo checks to make sure you're okay.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! smut, oral f receiving, TW: body insecurities, self conscious reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: As someone on the curvier side who’s dealt with body insecurities basically my entire life, I was happy to write this with experience on how it feels. This is my first (of probably many) Echo one-shots. Thank you @sageislostinspring for requesting <3

The weekend's familiar patrons crowded the bar, ordering their endless rounds of drinks for hours on end until they couldn't even walk straight. Cid wasn't a responsible bar owner, so she never let you cut anyone off when they were too drunk.

"Drunk customers are paying customers" She'd always say. You roll your eyes every time her voice plays in the back of your mind. She took you in when you were a child, and you always saw her as an aunt, but she wasn't protective of your safety like an aunt should be. Regardless, you loved her anyways.

Luckily, your favorite guys were across the bar tonight, crowded into a corner booth, taking it easy and enjoying their time together. Omega was kicking some ass at Dejarik. No matter how busy the place could get, and even with Hunter watching her like a hawk, you were adamant about making sure she was safe when there were this many people around. This was no place for a child, but somehow she was right where she belonged.

Glancing across the room back to the rest of the guys, you briefly caught Echo's eye and flashed him a smile. He smiled back before you returned to pouring and mixing drinks on autopilot. There was something about him - Echo, that you were so attracted to. The brothers were similar in appearance, but none of them were as kind as Echo.

Wrecker, Tech and Hunter were playing a drinking game, completely oblivious to the fact that they lost Echo's attention a while ago, but he couldn’t help staring at you.

"Can I get another drink?!" A loud, distracting man yelled from the other end of the bar.

"Yep, I'll be right there" You shot him a quick assuring smile.

"Now!” He impatiently demanded, his voice now louder than before, startling you.

“Please be patient, sir, I am working as fast as I can” You told him firmly.

“Maybe if you lost a few pounds you could work faster” 

Right then and there your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach. Suddenly every hateful comment you'd ever received came rushing to your mind, clouding your ability to even defend yourself. You stood there, motionless. This man had found your biggest insecurity and attacked it with anger.

You caught sight of Echo again, who was already watching the look on your face turn to sorrow. It was too loud for him to hear what had been said, but he knew something was wrong immediately. 

The beat of your heart thumped viciously inside your chest, pressing hard at the lump stuck in your throat. Rushing out from behind the bar, trying to turn the corner before a stream of tears stained your face in front of such a large crowd, you heard a slew of choice words exchanged loudly. One of the voices you recognized…Echo. You took a few deep breaths and poked your head around the corner.

Echo and the guys had cornered the insulting patron. Wrecker had him by the back of the neck, ready to throw him to the streets at any second. Echo and Hunter were in his face, undoubtedly threatening him.

It was all too much for you to handle and you needed some space.

The closing door of Aunt Cid’s office offered the solace you needed to calm down. There was a stinging sensation in your eyes as you shut them tight, trying your damnedest to get it together. No matter how many times in your life you tried to move past your insecurities about your body, someone like that guy will always be around to remind you of it.

Just then, a faint knock came from the other side of the door.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice called

Echo.

“I’m fine” You called to him, but the strangling effort in your voice to sound like you weren’t crying only made it all the more obvious.

“Can I come in?” He asked politely.

Instead of responding, you walked over to the door and pulled it open only slightly. You hesitantly looked up at him, and found the most concerned man in the galaxy. The wetness upon your cheeks instantly grabbed his attention.

“Oh, Y/N” Echo’s brows pressed together, his voice like silk. It took everything in you not to burst into tears just from the tone of his words.

You allowed him to enter, and walked over to sit yourself on Cid’s desk.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this” You sniffled.

“I’m your friend, Y/N, I’m here for you” He consoled.

“Thank you” You half smiled, thankful for his company.

“What did that guy say to you?” He asked. Something in his tone hinted that he was ready to kill him for hurting you.

“You didn’t hear?” You asked, confirming that he was too far away to know what the guy said, and came looking for you just based on how shattered you looked as you left the bar.

“No. Well, Hunter may have. We all saw your reaction to someone yelling and didn’t ask any questions, the guys took care of it” He explained, and moved to stand in front of you, taking your hand into his own, “I wanted to come check on you, though”

“He made a comment about my weight” You said quietly, somehow ashamed of admitting something that wasn't your fault.

“What?” Echo was appalled to hear this.

Your insecurity and self consciousness overcame you again, and you hung your head, “Yeah”

Echo's rage became obvious despite his attempt to suppress it.

“Listen to me, Y/N..." Echo started, bringing his head down to grab hold of your lowered gaze, but seemed to almost swallow his words before he could make them come out. He shut his eyes tight, realizing he might regret what he says next, "You are the most breathtaking woman I have ever laid eyes on"

The beating of your heart almost strangled you in that moment. Your hands trembled together in your embrace.

"I've never had the nerve to confess that to you before, but you needed to hear it now" He assured you, "I have been all over this galaxy. I've seen women of all shapes and sizes…but you? You are everything"

Your broken heart began mending itself with every word he spoke to you, "Echo" You whispered admirably.

"I mean it. Don't even think about listening to someone like that guy out there"

You were speechless.

"And this?" He began, his hand gesturing to the curves along your body, "is perfect"

"Will you kiss me?" You asked suddenly, knowing you wanted nothing more in that moment than to show him you wanted him.

His eagerness was no match for his nerves. Echo wanted to attack your supple lips, not holding back at all, but he couldn't, not yet. He inched forward slowly, afraid of messing this up, and planted his lips upon yours and delicately entwined the two of you.

Sparks ignited between the warmth of your kiss. A light whimper fell from your mouth onto his, telling him you wanted more. His hand wrapped around the back of your head and pressed you harder into him. Your tongue slipped over his lips and pulled a moan from him, piquing your arousals even further.

Heat began forming in your belly, migrating quickly to the pulsing between your legs. You squirmed slightly, your body craving friction against your sensitive, aching clit. Echo made note of your restlessness, and pulled away slightly.

"I want to taste you" He whispered against your lips. You took that as an invitation to kiss him harder, but you were stopped suddenly when he broke away from the kiss, "All of you".

Just then, a fire rushed through your body with the realization of what he meant. Without even hesitating, you parted your legs wider in your seated position on the desk. Echo placed his kiss on your neck before trailing his pecks further down your chest. His hand worked to inch the fabric of your dress up the length of your thighs, shooting chills down the length of your legs.

"Let me show you how beautiful you are to me" Echo insisted, a hint of hunger settled into his tone

"Please" You breathed.

You watched as he lowered himself in between your legs, putting his face level with where you ached for his touch. Cool air grazed the wetness slicked on your folds as he pulled your panties down your legs.

Gentle kisses peppered the inside of your thighs, inching closer and closer to your pussy. Soft whimpers had already begun falling off your lips before his tongue ever pressed against you.

The moment that you felt the intoxicating sensation of his tongue circling your clit, you were in heaven. It started slow, with soft rotations getting a gradual start on your pleasure. Maker, he was good at this.

"Oh, Echo. Yes" You moaned deep, but gently.

His eyes rarely left yours while he devoured you, wanting to see pretty little faces you'd make from the feeling he provided for you. His cock strained so helplessly against his pants, torturing him to no end. Echo had dreamed of this exact moment for so long, and now he had you in his hold, whining and falling apart under his influence.

He hungered for you, not just to taste your arousal, but to feel you in your most delicate state. His love for you existed from afar, as he was terrified that you wouldn’t want him too. All the passion he felt for you built up to this, and he’d do anything to help you understand how perfect you were to him.

The motions of his mouth grew more eager by the second before he found a consistent rhythm that seemed to earn the most precious noises from your lips. Nothing had ever brought you so close to your orgasm so quickly.

"Maker, it feels so good" You cried out, knowing you were close to falling over the edge. He knew it, too, and didn't dare change a thing about his pace now.

Suddenly, your orgasm burst open with overwhelming ecstasy. Your body squirmed involuntarily in his grasp, so he grabs your hip and pulls your body harder against his face, not letting you relinquish even a second of the full intensity of your climax. Echo groaned against your clit, sending vibrations across your sensitively and driving you absolutely wild. The stars in your vision began to fade as you crept slowly down off of your high.

"Oh my god, Echo" You exclaim breathlessly. Your legs trembled while he slowly stood to his feet.

"Sweetheart, I-" He started, failing to find the words to describe how he felt.

A sudden knock came at the door.

"Y/N? Are you alright in there?"

It was Wrecker, and based on the sounds of feet shuffling beyond the door, you assumed the rest of the guys were out there, too.

How kind of them to check on you, too, but stars, they couldn't have picked a worse time than this. You both exchanged a glance of amusing disappointment, knowing you both wanted to rip each other's clothes off right then and there.

"Another time" You smiled warmly.

He smiled back, kissing you one more time, like he'd never get the chance to again, and couldn't wait to pick up where you left off.

[lvrhughes]

All of the Girls You Loved Before | M. Marner

pairing: Mitch Marner x f!reader

Word count: 1k

summary: You and Mitch had been together through your teen years, but it didn’t last. As they say if they live something let it go, if it’s meant to be it’ll come back, giving you a new found appreciation for all the girls he loved before.

Warnings: none! so much fluff

Requested: yes

“We’ve gone over this before, I am with you, I’m not going out with other girls while you're away! If I wanted someone else I wouldn’t be dating you!” 

Mitch was mad this time, letting the average teenage insecurities take over and assume the worst, creating another late night fight. Another lame fight over the phone. 

“Mitch, I’m sorry-”

“No I don’t want to hear it right now, I think we should take a break.”

“Oh.” was all you said at the time, thinking back on it maybe you should’ve said no, maybe then you’d have had a longer relationship, but as they say if you love something let it go, if it’s meant to be they’ll come back. 

Your laugh echoed the empty streets, Mitch pulling you towards the town. The two of you had snuck out, planning on sneaking into town, It wasn’t a far walk anyways. Yet somehow the walk took longer than normal, maybe from how many times you stopped because you were laughing too much or when you stopped to take pictures, either way you didn’t know. But it was fun, he was holding your hand the entire time, killin’ time with each other. Until you had to sneak back in.

“Y/n Y/l/n, where were you!” your mothers voice was loud and Mitch, who was outside making sure you didn’t fall while climbing back into your window, could hear the anger in her voice. You got grounded for two weeks. 

Throughout your teenage years you knew Mitch had other girlfriends, but you were his first, but that stupid phone call ruined that. It’s safe to say none of his other girlfriends lasted, because, even though you broke up, you two tried to stay friends and he always came back with a new reason as to why she left. 

“She said that this was just a dead-end street, we had no future together.”

“That’s a new one, I like the originality!” 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Mitch deadpanned, making you burst out with laughter, the sound making his blank expression soften into a smile. 

Your 21st birthday, the first time you had gotten into a bar, legally, and you were going to have a good time, that’s what you said. 

You’d found a cute guy, the same age, he had a little resemblance to Mitch, maybe that’s why you found him. It was going well, you were having a good time with him, dancing and drinking. Until you saw Mitch, the one person you’d be trying to get over. 

“Um- Excuse me.” you stuttered before running to the bathroom, breaking down in tears. Crying' in the bathroom for some dude whose name I cannot remember now. 

You cleaned the messed makeup off as best you could before heading back out, trying to find what's-his-name again. He definitely left. You never found him after returning from the bathroom. No, instead you ran directly into Mitch, too busy looking around to look where you were going, you basically fell on him. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” you scrambled to get up before he could say anything. 

“Y/n?” fuck, the way he said your name made you melt, he always was your weakness. 

“Hi Mitch.” was all you could mutter, even then the words barely came out, they were only a whisper, yet he heard them. Basking in the way you said his name, he always loved the way you said it. 

So your 21st wasn’t as bad as that sounded because it ended in Mitch bringing you home, asking for your new number since you must’ve changed it from when you were 17 and still talking to him, and a promise to rebuild the friendship that had ended. And you did rebuild the friendship, surprisingly quick, too. 

Going through boxes of old things in Mitch’s house, asking for help when he planned to move out from his parents, you found an old letter. One of the only letters he kept, you’d need to ask him if he still wanted this in his house seeing how it was signed. His name in a heart on the front of the letter, not your writing. But it was okay, whoever this was from led him back to you. You had his love now. 

“I’m so glad for all the girls you loved before.”

You looked up at him, laying on his chest, his hand on your back while he also laid on the couch.

“What?” he looked down at you, confusion was evident on his features. 

“The way you call me baby, the way you treat me like a lady.” you paused for a minute.

“All the girls you loved before, they made you the one I fell for. All the dead-end streets lead you straight to me, now you're all I need. So I’m thankful for the girls you loved before.” 

Mitch could feel himself melting at the words, pulling you closer and tighter. 

“God, I love you.” he mumbled before leaning down to kiss you. 

When you did try to pull away for air, he kept you close, peppering you with kisses. 

“Mitch- st-stop” your words being broken by giggles. He did not stop however, he flipped the two of you so you were no under him, his chain dangling in front of you. 

“Your mother raised you so loyal and kind.” You whispered, seeing his face change with the compliments.

“Teenage love taught you there’s good in goodbye.” He was so caught off guard by your random words he just stayed still, listening for what you’d say next.

“Every woman you’ve ever known brought you here.”

He stayed patient waiting for your next words. 

“I want to teach you how forever feels.”

He wasted no time kissing you again, practically laying on you now, trying to be as close as possible to you. 

“I guess I’m a little thankful for those girls too.” he mumbled against your lips, quickly pressing his back to yours after mumbling that. You smiled into the kiss, waiting a minute before pulling away. 

“I’m so thankful for all the girls you loved before, but i love you more.”

[telekineticseance]

inspired by mattsdae’s latest fic that Awoke something in me could you write coop (or trey) that while fucking just feels readers belly to feel how deep they are and just being fucked out of his own mind 🤭🤪 pls and thank ily

NEVER AGAIN

pairing: trey parker x f! reader

summary: trey catches you flirting with a guy at the bar and when you two get home he finds out why

genre: smut

word count: 3164

cw: biting, meandom!trey, dom(m)/sub(f), degradation, fingering(f!receiving), unprotected p in v intercourse, rough sex, age gap relationship, bondage, jealousy, oral (f!receiving), borderline bdsm

author's note: very much 18+ mdni or i will fight every single one of you followed by a block. anyways ENJOY!!!

You had been with your boyfriend Trey for a little over 3 years and as much as you loved him, at times you felt bored. He was what some people tend to call “old fashioned” or maybe a gentleman. You did love him though. The way he made you laugh, the way he held you at night when he came home from work, when he’d surprise you with a gift every now and then. It seemed like he loved you too. So if all that, why were you sitting at a bar letting a guy flirt with you while Trey was away in the bathroom.

The two of you went out to a bar for Matt’s birthday with a few other people and while everyone was getting hammered, you and Trey opted for the more sober experience.

“So did you come alone?” The strange guy asked, resting his hand on your knee. You shuddered under his touch while shaking your head, “No I’m with a few friends.” You explained, sipping on the cranberry juice sitting on the bar. The guy gave you a small smirk, caressing your leg and stroking it gently. You looked down at your hand, knowing you should push it away but enjoying the touch. When you saw Trey slip through the crowd you cleared your throat, moving the man’s hand away causing him to let out a scoff.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, moving closer and draping his arm around your shoulders. You tried shaking it off before hearing Trey’s voice break through the sound of the loud music and bustling crowd. “You should probably let her go.”

The guy’s arm pulled away from your shoulders as he turned around, looking up at Trey. The guy seemed to be only a few inches taller than you, but definitely a few inches shorter than Trey as he practically towered over him. Trey’s face was stern and his eyes were dark, “And you are?” The guy asked, crossing his arms over his chest seeming like he was trying to be taller than he actually was. Trey let out a slight chuckle, “I’m her boyfriend.”

The guy scanned Trey’s figure and let out almost a belly laugh, “There’s no way she’s with an old man like you.” He rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff before clenching his fist at his side, “It’s none of your business if she is or not. Come on Y/N.” He used his unclenched hand to motion for you to come to his side.

You obeyed almost immediately, walking to his side as he used the same hand to inlace his fingers with yours. The guy reached out and pulled you away from Trey’s gasp causing Trey to quickly turn around and collide his clenched fist to the guy’s face. The guy flailed back, his back hitting the bar as he quickly brushed off the punch and lunged at Trey. You watched the two start throwing punches at each other before you saw Matt’s tall figure come running through the crowd of people and pulling the guy away from Trey, hitting him in the process.

Eventually, a security guard for the bar walked over and grabbed Trey and Matt both by the necks of their shirts, while another one grabbed the other guy, holding all three of them apart. You watched in shock as Trey fought against the guard, trying to continue to fight the random guy. “That slut was asking for it!” He screamed at Trey, blood dripping from his mouth. Trey looked at you before looking back at the guy, the rage still showing in his eyes.

You looked down avoiding eye contact from him, the man wasn’t right but he definitely wasn’t wrong and you knew it. When you looked back Trey was looking at you, his face had softened a little but you could still tell he was upset. The security guards dragged out the three of them and you grabbed your purse before following closely behind the group. The guard dragged the guy away, keeping a close eye on them, “Now you four need to leave and not come back.”

You watched as Matt and Trey walked away together, Matt trying to hype Trey back up while Trey apologized for ruining Matt’s party, “No fuck that guy! He ruined it, not you. Shouldn’t have been filling your girl up like that.” Matt patted Trey's back as they walked together, you following behind. Trey glanced back giving a small scoff, “Yeah he shouldn’t have.”

When the three of you arrived back to where you all had parked, Matt said his farewells, claiming he was sober enough to drive before getting in his car and leaving. Trey looked back at you before motioning to his own car and then climbing in. You got in the passenger side before Trey started driving, the car ride home silent.

Once the two of you arrived at your shared home with Trey, he climbed out of the car, not waiting on you before he unlocked the door and went inside. You let out a sigh, locking the door as you got out, following him into the house. It wasn’t super fancy but it was home, you insisted on a rental home even though Trey insisted on buying a home for the two of you to live in. You told him you wanted to wait until marriage before buying and he understood before you two found a home you really liked.

You walked through the door, seeing the lights on scattered throughout the house. You sighed walking up the stairs to the bedroom, seeing Trey sitting on the bed with his head in hands. You walked over, gently resting your hand on his shoulder as he flinched, pulling away from your touch. “Trey..” You started but he quickly shushed you, “What did he mean by you asked for it? Hm?” You shook your head, sitting down next to him. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“Then what was it? Because what I saw was you not pushing him away in the first place.” He said, rising up from the bed, his height towering over you. You looked up at him taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry okay? I just…I thought maybe I could feed this need I have. You don’t give me anything to work with Trey. It’s just the same thing over and over again.” You confessed. His face dropped and his lips tightened, “So letting some guy touch you instead of talking to me was the way to go?”

You felt the guilt hit you, letting out a sigh, “It wasn’t going to be anymore than that. I promise. I just..I need more Trey.” He looked down at you, walking closer, “What more do you want?” He took your chin in his hand, making you look at him. “Hm?”

You shook your head, “I-I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes before returning his gaze back down at you, “Want me to fuck you? Treat you like the slut you are.” He mumbled, his eyes darkened with every word. You felt your throat dry as he spoke, this new side of Trey His fingers tightened the grip on your chin as he leaned down to your ear, “Is that what you want?”

You nodded against his grip as he chuckled against your ear, “Well too bad.” He forcefully pushed against you, causing your back to lay against the bed. You looked up at him, seeing him pull off his shirt. “Take off your clothes.” He commanded, motioning to your clothes. You started to do so as your heartbeat quickened while he walked over to a drawer, pulling out two of his ties, watching him walk back to the bed. He wrapped the ties around your wrists and ankles, making it to where each wrist was attached to an ankle. “This is what you want right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed out, he smirked in response, looking down at your nude body. He ran his fingers across your skin, the coldness causing you to jump slightly in reaction. Another chuckle left him as he leaned down over you, leaving wet kisses down your torso. A shiver was sent down your spine with every lingering kiss he left, inching closer to your lower half. He leaned up to your ear, his voice having a lighter tone than before, “I wanna make you happy. But if I go too far tell me okay?” You nodded before he went back to leaving the trail of kisses.

You felt your core start to throb and grow more wet with every move Trey made. He pulled away, flipping you over onto your stomach so your legs were propped up in the air from being tied to your wrists. One of his hands rested on your lower back, just above your ass as he used his other hand to stroke along your slit. You gasped trying to arch against his touch but his hand continued to force you against the mattress. He tsked at you as you tried to move, his fingers tapping lightly on your back as he continued rubbing his fingers along your slit causing you to squirm under his touch..

“I didn’t say you could move.” He told you, pressing you further into the mattress. Your face pressed against the mattress as a shiver went down your spine, feeling his hand start rubbing at your clit. He thrusted his fingers in, curling them as he did. You fought back the urge to move with his touch letting out a moan against the bed. “Can’t believe an old man like me can get you heated like this.” He chuckled as he continued pumping his fingers, letting out a groan as you flexed yourself around the fingers.

You closed your eyes tightly, as you felt your stomach tighten, continuing to flex your walls around his fingers. When you let out another moan, Trey eased his fingers out slowly. You glanced back and watched him, wondering why he stopped, “W-Why did yo-” He cut you off as you spoke, “Stay quiet. Until I tell you to.”

Your mouth hung open, shocked from this new side of Trey. He rolled his eyes before reaching his hand up, closing your mouth. He took the ties off your ankles and wrists, “Flip over. On your back.” 

Obeying him, you flipped back to your back as he continued holding the ties, you could practically see the gears turn in his head as he bit his bottom lip while letting his eyes scan you. He walked up your body, wrapping the tie around your face, covering your eyes. Your heart started to race once your vision went black, unsure of what would happen next.

The feeling of Trey’s fingers along your cheek caused you to jump slightly. He ran his hand down before they found your breasts, taking them in your hands and massaging them, flicking at your nub in the process. You let a moan escape past your lips, suddenly feeling his mouth come into contact with your skin. His hand continued to massage your breasts as he licked his tongue through the valley between them. The bed sank in as he climbed on top of you, his mouth moving onto one of your nipples as he bit down causing you to let out a gasp.

You tried looking under the tie but it was no use, he made sure to tie it tight so you couldn’t see anything around you. You whined as he pulled away from you, his hands gripping onto your hips, “What’s wrong?” He teased once you whined. “I-I need you Trey.”

He gave a small hum, “Do you now?” He asked, his body causing the bed to creak slightly as he lowered himself down your body. You tried moving your hands to touch him, locate him but he quickly slammed them back down next to your sides. “Move them again and I’ll tie them again.” He warned you.

You clutched your hands onto the sheets as he propped your legs onto his shoulders, before blowing lightly on your aching clit. The gust of air caused you to flinch slightly, letting out an almost squeak sound. Suddenly you felt the attachment of his lips to your clit as he began sucking, flicking his tongue in  a pattern like motion.

A gasp was all you could make, clutching harder onto the sheets, sure that your knuckles had turned white by now. He continued fucking you with his tongue, letting out a chuckle when you’d make a noise, sending vibrations through your core. The feeling caused you to grind against his mouth, his nose brushing against your clit when you’d do so. He ran his tongue along your folds, before diving it as deep as he could.

When you felt yourself start to reach your high again, you reached up, gripping onto his hair as you started riding his face. He quickly pulled away from you, ripping your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head. “I fucking told you.” He growled, before you felt the fabric wrap around your wrists. “You don’t listen very well do you.”

Your breathing increased with every word he spoke, every move he made around you, only being able to feel him from the sounds he’d make. “Why should I fuck you? Hm? Letting a strange man touch you? In public nonetheless.” He scoffed as he talked, flipping you onto your side. You heard the jingling of his belt, and the dropping of his jeans.

“I think you should be punished don’t you?” He whispered against your ear suddenly, feeling the coldness of his leather belt run down your body. You gulped before you nodded, not believing what was happening. Suddenly, you felt the collision of the belt impact on your ass and your back arched as you let out a small whimper. Although it did hurt, the feeling turned you on even more.

The collision hit you once more and the whimper was exchanged for a moan, digging your nails into the palm of your hand. When the belt struck you for the third time, you bit your bottom lip and curled your toes. “Are you gonna let another man touch you?” He asked, the leather slapping against itself as he clicked the belt together. You shook your head, “No sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” He spoke before you felt him prop himself next to you. You still laid on your side as he pushed your legs up to your stomach. Suddenly you felt him thrust himself in, his cock stretching your walls as he did so. He started thrusting roughly, wasting no time to let yourself adjust but you didn’t mind, as every thrust sent a rush of pleasure down your body.

One of his hands continued to hold your legs to your stomach, while the other held onto your side so he could keep the position he wanted. He let out a groan as his grip tightened, “You feel so fucking good.” He spoke as he did so. You continued to let out a moan before he pulled out, flipping you back around so you were on your back once again. He thrusted back in, propping your legs on his shoulders.

He pressed his lips into yours as he thrusted, you licked his lips begging for an entrance into his mouth to which he granted, his own tongue having a battle with yours for dominance. He bit your bottom lip hard, giving it a tug as he pulled away.

His hand rested just above your pelvic bone as he pressed down on it, feeling his cock thrust in and out of you. “Fuck.” He groaned out. You felt your stomach tighten once more, starting to reach your peak. “Don’t.” He told you when he felt your walls starting to clench.

“Please Trey.” You begged, your eyes watering under the tie, definitely soaking it. “Not yet.” He told you as he continued thrusting. His thrusts got rough with every move, holding himself in when he’d hit your g spot for a few seconds before he’d start thrusting again.

You felt his thrusts start to get more sloppy as he leaned down to your ear, “I want you to cum on three okay?” He whispered, his thrusts increasing once more. You nodded before he began counting.

“One…”

“Two…”

His hand moved from just above your pelvic bone to where he started rubbing on your clit as he thrusted, “Three…”

You felt your walls tighten around his cock rapidly as you started to grind his hips against his thrusts, the two of you releasing at the same time. He let out another groan, the two of you riding out your highs together.

He pulled out, keeping his hand on rubbing your clit as you tried moving away but he forced you to stay, “No. You wanted more so that’s what you're getting.” He paused, thrusting his fingers in, gasping from how sensitive you were but still moaning from the pleasure you received. “I want you to cum around my fingers.”

You bit your bottom lip as he continued thrusting them, “I-I can’t.” You whimpered out, letting out another small moan.

“Yes you can. I know you can. Because that’s what good girls do. And you’re a good girl right?” He asked and you nodded once more. “That’s what I thought.”

He continued pumping his fingers as you felt yourself start to get that familiar feeling once more, surprised you could reach your high again. “Are you close?” He asked when you started to flex your walls again.

You bit your bottom lip while nodding. He reached his free hand up and pulled up the tie from your eyes, “I want you to look in my eyes.” He told you, holding eye contact with you as he curled his fingers. You held eye contact with him, wishing you could touch his face, feel the way his salt and pepper beard would prickle against your hand.

You let out another gasp when you felt yourself suddenly release onto his fingers, his blue eyes piercing into yours, “Hmm that’s a good girl.” He whispered as he pulled his fingers out, pressing them against your lips, “Now come on.”

You wrapped your mouth against his fingers, licking them clean before he pulled them out with a pop. He reached up and untied your hands from above your head before laying next to you in the bed. “Was that what you wanted?” He asked, looking at you.

You slowly nodded, speechless as you felt your chest rise and fall while you breathed heavily. “I love you. And I just want you to be happy.” He whispered, caressing your face with his hand. You turned and looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry it won’t happen again.” You apologized.

“Never again?”

“Never again.”

[innocent-cat]

I love your writing. I have more Percy ideas if you want. You can add as many Vox Machina characters to this as you want but I mainly want Percy. Him and acolyte background reader (they just need to have been a part of some temple, can be whatever class you want) are in that shy, flirty, mutual pining stage. While out at a tavern with everyone someone hits on reader rather brazenly and they just go "I'm sorry, but my faith demands I remain a celibate and solitary life." Meaning no sex or dating. After the guy goes away dejected and everyone is like why didn't you tell us that reader just goes "oh no I can do whatever, but people tend to leave me alone quicker if they think I've taken a vow of chastity." I know it's really specific but the idea of Percy's thought process is adorable.

I love your requests!! thank you.

Percival x Reader

Warnings - Alcohol, Sexual implications

"Moths to a flickering light", Percy x Reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

After a long, tiring attempt of an adventure and capturing a bounty, Vox Machina decided they wanted to blow it all on a larger tavern tab.

Obviously, who could say no to a tradition so engraved to your ragtag crew that it's expected we do so? So, the whole group went without argue.

You guys should definitely figure out a new way to cope.

Upon entering the only bar left in Emon the group wasn't banned from, the group sat down at a table by a window. 7 seats. You sit on the windowsill built by the table, and Percy lean beside you.

"A round of drinks for the large group of weirdos in the corner, hun."

The wife of the bar owner told her husband, monotone surprisingly cold for someone who looks so bright. Lost the color over the years of a loveless busy marriage hmm?

Well. That sucked. You pitied them, but you couldn't do much. But, you could drink it away and pretend you never saw it.

Pushing off the wall, you decide you actually do want a drink. You walk through the bar, your footsteps light, but every noise drowned out by another within the loud clammy bar.

'Sorry. Excuse me. Oh, I'm so sorry!' You repeated these words as you pushed through people, hoping they'd understand they didn't really need to be standing in the middle of the bar. Chairs please.

"Hey, you mind if I get a beer?" You slid over the charge for the drink, quickly grabbing the frothed drink made for you. Taking a sip, you sigh.

you make a 180, and start walking back to the table you found your favorite scruffy pockpick, Vex'ahlia.

"Hey, what'cha doin without the group?"

"Whatever the hell I want, darling! We have funding that'll last us till the world falls!" She laughs, smiling, leaning, revealing a pile of drink cups on the table already.

"Alllrighhhtt.. you do that, Vex." You scoot pass the girl, likely to pickpocket 7 people by the end of the night.

"Still no drinking for you, Percival? You'd think you'd warm up to the drinking by now, truly." You took a large swig of your drink, sighing after swallowing.

"No, None for me. None of you can think straight, or at all for that matter, when drunk. You'll thank me one day."

'Tight-ass.' You whispered to him, giggling softly.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised. He shuts his eyes and he lets a smile peak.

"You know, one day you will get on my last nerve."

"Nah. Definitely gonna be Scanlan who makes you lose it. Speaking of Scanlan, where is he? Is he already balls deep in some random girl?"

"Uegh, likely. Don't get me started on him." Percy brings his hands to his face, fixing his glasses and pushing them farther on his nose ridge.

You let out a laugh, "I personally think he's funnier drunk, but I also think anyone can be funnier drunk, so take it with a grain of salt."

"..I think he's just.. odd." Percy retorted, expressing dislike for the poor habits of the bard.

"Maybe just a little. We all are anyway. Keyleth is an exception though. I wont make fun of her. She's normal."

Percy gave you a weird face before picking up the conversation you lead.

"We are all weird. Some of us less weird."

"You and Pike are definitely the most normal. Pike is our little morality compass, and you're just too polite for your own good. Sometimes you know when to be a dick, though."

Percy laughed.

You finish off your drink, and grab one of the group's table. They can't say no, you live off everyone collectively anyway.

"Ever been romanced, Percy?" You sip off the foamy drink, looking up to him as you did so.

"What? Oh. No, I guess I never had a chance to seek nor fall for sappy relations yet."

"I guess." You groaned out, growing bored of conversing with an garrulous man.

You take another drink out of your mug, and set it to the table, with a Grog, Pike, and Vax all collectively trying to come up with a reason to why it would be a good idea for Grog to take a bite out of one of the mugs.

'Ouuhhhkayyyy i'll ignore them, Percys' got it.'

When you turn around, you're met with a women directly behind you, practically literally breathing down your neck.

"Oh- do I know you?" You lean your body backwards, shifting your weight to the table behind you, your arms stretched to reach the table.

Her hand pushes a hair dangling in front of your eye behind your ear, and leans in to the uncovered ear.

"No, but I'd love to learn more about you, doll."

You shiver. Major bad vibes.

"My faith demands full purity, and celibate or abstention from the acts you're insinuating towards me."

You put one hand to her chest, pushing her off you. She groans and shuttles off.

"Oh, you didn't tell us you had to be deep in the purity thing before?" Pike babbles quickly, probably not understanding herself either.

"Not really.. I'm allowed to do whatever I want. People just leave me alone if I tell them I took a vow of chastity until marriage. Drunks aren't the most romantically interested, per se."

Pike, Vax, and Grog turn back to each other, now conversing on why the Tooth Fairy is very real and very dangerous. What did she do to them? Take the tooth and leave? Uegh.

You pause, figuring out what you're gonna do. You go back to the windowsill, sitting next to the Chaperoning Percy.

"Ever been romanced, 'Vow of chastity'?" Percy mocks your excuse to shake off the women.

"Yeah yeah whatever. I bet you're just jealous I actually have dated people all round' the clock." You looked away from him, rolling your eyes.

"You have?" Percy asks, a bit surprised and just the tiniest pinch of envy in his voice.

"..No." You stifled a laugh looking at the face he was making towards you. He cleared his throat.

"You're a good liar. Maybe it's just your poor drinking habits."

"Probably. I'd never lie this hard otherwise."

"Yeah right, let's all forget the time you tripped Grog purposefully and pretended it was an accident." He scoffed.

"You vowed to me you'd never talk about it again!"

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: current LOCATION: underneath wicked's rest PARTIES: @loftylockjaw & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: emilio catches wyatt having a midday snack. before he can do anything about it, they become snacks together. CONTENT: suicidal ideation, brief mentions of child death

Wicked’s Rest kept Axis Investigations fairly busy. It was rare for Emilio to go a week without one new case or another landing on his desk, rarer still for those new cases to be the kind he thought normal P.I.s spent a lot of time dealing with. This particular case looked an awful lot like many he’d worked before. There was a woman, and her husband was missing. He’d vanished in the woods, and the police didn’t want to help her. They said he’d run off somewhere, claimed he’d just had enough of her, but she swore it wasn’t true. Given his experience, Emilio thought he might agree with her. There were a lot of things in the woods of Wicked’s Rest that might make a man disappear.

None of them were good.

So, he headed out. On his own, with Nora preoccupied, though he probably wouldn’t have involved her in this case, anyway. He’d rather let her work cases that might have happy endings, and he knew this one wouldn’t. He knew he was probably looking for a corpse instead of a man here, knew there probably wouldn’t be a joyous reunion. But it was better to know. He believed that, even now. It was better to know the truth, even when it hurt. 

The woods were damp, but at least the weather was warming up a little. Emilio still wore his jacket, pockets stuffed full of blades and stakes, but he tended to keep that on year round. He trudged through the underbrush, bad leg snatching away any capability of moving silently. When he heard the smacking of large jaws ahead, he paused. This, he thought, could be exactly what he was looking for. Readying his knife, he moved forward towards the sound.

—

The ranger had been tailing him, pardon the pun. For a couple days now, he'd kept seeing the same woman out and about. First at the Pit, where he won in a fight against a baukbear. Later that same night, out on the street. A coincidence, he thought, not worth confronting her over. She couldn't know he was Lockjaw, anyway. He kept his human identity pretty fuckin’ secret. But then he saw her the next day at the store. And the next, outside a bar. She was tailing him, waiting to get home alone. She knew.

So he let her get him alone. Let her follow him into the woods, let her stalk him like he didn't know she was there. Let her think she had the upper hand. 

The fight was brief. She'd seen Wyatt in the Pit, but that still didn't prepare her to face the lamia's brute strength herself. By herself. Stupid. He'd grabbed her in his jaws and whipped her against a tree, rumbling happily as her limp body fell to the wet forest floor. Time for a snack, he supposed. No use letting it go to waste. And hey! This was a fresh brain for Caleb! He'd love that, probably. Maybe. Maybe only if Wyatt didn't say how he got it. Hm. The head had been severed from the body in earnest, and now the massive alligator creature was tearing what remained of the corpse into smaller, bite-sized pieces, gobbling them down. 

Until someone else happened upon the scene, and he lifted his head from the carnage to squint his yellow eyes in the direction of the sound. The heat signature of a human was coming in his direction and he huffed, preparing himself for yet another altercation. 

—

Whatever was out here would likely hear him coming. The uneven terrain would have been easy enough to navigate in his older days, before the massacre and the injury to his leg, but now? The limb practically dragged behind him, barely serving to support his weight at all, much less do so in silence. But whatever it was was having a hell of a meal from the sound of things, and Emilio had to trust that that would distract it enough to keep it from acting before he could assess the situation. He was out here to solve a case. If this thing wasn’t related to that, and if it wasn’t bothering anyone, Emilio saw no reason not to leave it be for now.

Of course, that plan of action changed pretty swiftly when he saw the situation at hand. A giant reptilian creature eating what appeared to be the remains of a human corpse wasn’t the strangest thing Emilio had seen in this town, but it was the kind of problem he figured he ought to take care of. It was impossible to say, at this point, if the alligator creature had actually killed the woman it was currently making a meal of, but it was better to be sure a threat was eliminated, wasn’t it? And besides that, his client’s missing husband might very well be in the thing’s stomach. He’d need to cut it open to be sure.

He kind of wished he’d brought a bigger knife.

Silently daydreaming about the scythe in Teddy’s basement that he couldn’t carry around with him everywhere no matter how much he wished he could, he gripped the knife he had brought as he approached. “All right,” he said lowly. “We’ll do it quick. Make sure you can’t hurt anybody, make sure nobody finds you.” What Emilio would do to the thing would still be kinder than what someone else might, if they came across it first. A quick death was far less cruel than what most people were capable of.

—

Inner eyelids blinked first, followed by the outer ones as Wyatt sized the man up. Had a limp. Was ill equipped to deal with something as large and tough as he was, he thought as his gaze flicked down toward the knife in the stranger’s hand. Wouldn’t be much trouble, really. Still, there was something in his tone that set him apart from the ranger that had started this whole mess. He sounded almost like he didn’t want to do this, but felt obligated… on account of the dead human, and all. That was understandable. 

Perhaps this could be solved without a fight. If not, though, another brain wouldn’t be a bad thing to get his claws on. 

Wyatt bobbed his head quickly to send the arm that’d been dangling from his jaws to the back of his throat, swallowing it — sleeve and all — and straightening up, rising to his full height and staring down at the man as he let out a low, threatening rumble. “Like fuckin’ hell we’re gonna do anything quick,” he responded, figuring the hunter probably didn’t expect him to speak. Most didn’t when they saw him like this. “She came for me. You wanna end up like her, you keep comin’, mon cher. Won’t take me but one good snap.”

—

The thing swallowed the arm it had been chewing on and, if Emilio had been a man with a weaker stomach, he might have felt a bit nauseous at the sight. As it stood, however, it was easy enough to stomach. He’d seen far more gruesome things than this, even if this did land pretty high on the list. (Nothing, he thought, could top walking into an abandoned factory to find his brother tied to a post with his leg a few feet away from his body.) Still, it wasn’t exactly a welcome sight, and Emilio spared a moment of sympathy towards the owner of that arm.

A moment was all the time he had, though. Because the creature stood on its hind legs, raising to a height that towered above Emilio’s perfectly reasonable five foot and eleven inches. That was strange enough. More unexpected still, however, was the way the creature spoke. Maybe he should have seen that coming; in a town like this one, stranger things had happened. Still, the slayer took an uncertain step back, bad leg threatening to crumble under the weight he put onto it without thinking. “¡Qué mierda!” He cursed, the creature’s words likely having the opposite of their intended effect as they made him tighten his grip on the knife in his hand. If this thing was something sentient and the owner of that arm it had swallowed had ‘come for it’ the way it claimed, did that make the dead woman a hunter? A bundle of complicated emotions burrowed into his chest. “Can’t imagine why she’d do that, with the threats and all. You want me to feel bad for you?” He was out of his element here. He didn’t even know what this was, much less how to kill it. But Emilio was full of nothing if not false bravado; most days, it was the most reliable weapon he carried. “Don’t think I’d go down easy. Better take a step back, pendejo.”

—

At the suggestion that the stranger maybe ought to feel sorry for the beast, Wyatt gave a noncommittal shrug. It would certainly help his case if the man did. Then came the bravado, and the lamia snorted out a bestial laugh. “Okay, Cujo, better untwist those panties before you say somethin’ you'll regret.” He glanced down at the mangled corpse of the human woman, deciding that he wasn't going to let this uppity citizen interrupt a fine meal. “I was mindin’ my own business when this girly came along. Been stalkin’ me for days. Let her live that long, but she kept pressin'. Pressed me right into a damn corner. I don't like corners, friend.” That said, the gator bit at her torso, jerking his head roughly to get it deeper down his gullet. With the motion came a lovely spray of blood, one that decorated the stranger’s front like the flick of a full paint roller. 

Wyatt paused, mouth full and preventing his laugh from coming out as anything other than a growl. He couldn't rightly speak so he just kept eating, sinking down into a squat. It wasn't like he was going to apologize, anyway. He wasn't the one being rude right now. 

—

This conflict in his chest was a new thing. There’d been a period, once, where a hunter being killed by a thing they’d been hunting was an easy situation, something Emilio knew what to do with without question. You finished the job the dead hunter started, and that was that. Sometimes it was vengeance, other times it was pest control. For Emilio, it tended to be both. But… that was before. These days, things felt more complicated. He remembered the hunter Andy killed, the way he helped her bury the body, the way he told her she’d done the right thing and meant it. He thought of Parker and how angry he’d been when the warden went after Teddy, the way he’d wanted nothing more than to make the man pay. He thought of freeing Ariadne from that van, of his various spats with Owen, of every time he’d butted heads with a hunter in this stupid, confusing town. Things weren’t as black and white as they used to be.

That didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed the spray of blood in his face, though.

Taking a step back, Emilio grit his teeth. The metallic taste was a familiar one, though it was usually his own blood that got into his mouth. He spit it onto the ground, scowling. Enough of this shit. He wasn’t sure he wanted to kill this guy, but he was sure that he didn’t want to keep having this conversation. “I’ve got shit to do, then. I hear about you killing anybody else, I won’t be so nice.” He took a step forward, moving to shove past the creature (and maybe offer a petty kick in the process), but…

His foot was caught on something. He yanked, and sharp pain went through his ankle as whatever it was dug in deeper. Turning back, he saw that he’d somehow managed to get his foot tangled in some thorns. So much for the dramatic exit. Now he’d have to cut himself free. Grumbling, he turned around, knife still in hand. As he got close to the thorns to cut them away, though… something happened. The vines shot out, wrapping themselves around his arm up to the shoulder and climbing up his leg, slicing all the way up. Out of the corner of his eye, Emilio could see the same vines moving towards the sharp-toothed, hunter-eating stranger, too.

—

At first, all the man got in response to the warning was an eye roll, teeth crunching down through bone and cartilage. As he went to storm off, though, he suddenly stopped. Wyatt snorted, figuring this was another intimidation tactic that was falling flat. “‘M shakin’ in my fuckin’ boots,” he said around the remains in his maw, gulping them down. The man ignored him, instead bending down to… oh. Oh. He was stuck. That was hilarious. 

And fortunate, actually. The threat came to the forefront of his mind and Wyatt abandoned what was left of the woman to turn his focus on the living one instead, deciding that he should kill this one as well. It was preventative! And it meant more brains for Caleb. 

Not that he was sentimental, or whatever. 

Before the gator could rush the guy, something else was rushing his way. He gave an alarmed growl, rising up onto two legs and trying to backpedal away from whatever was snaking through the ferns toward him with alarming speed. He glanced over to the stranger only to see him wrapped in thorny vines, and let out a fearsome roar. This was going to be annoying, wasn't it?

The vines caught up to him and coiled around his legs, pulling him easily to the ground. He thrashed and snapped at them, safe from the razor sharp thorns everywhere but the inside of his mouth, which he realized with an angry snarl. Even though the thorns couldn't pierce his hide, the vines they were a part of were doing a great job of dragging him over the ground, pulling him right into the stranger and the both of them toward… toward… what was that? That hole hadn't been there before, had it? He surely would have noticed such a thing. 

—

As he tried to saw through the vines, he caught sight of the reptilian creature moving towards him out of the corner of his eye and steeled himself for the possibility of having to fight the thing while tangled in thorny brambles. It wasn’t exactly an ideal scenario. Even without the disadvantage of the vines, Emilio could admit that he was a little outmatched here. But the vines, whatever they were, didn’t seem interested in disadvantaging Emilio alone. He watched them wrap themselves around the gator, too, tangling him up so completely that there was no hope of him thrashing his way free. 

It didn’t feel like much of a victory, though. Even with just one arm and one leg taken out of commission, Emilio couldn’t do much to prevent the vines from pulling him backwards. And, unlike the shifter, the slayer didn’t have a tough hide saving him from those thorns breaking skin. His pant leg and sleeve were wet with blood now, and struggling only seemed to make the brambles dig deeper. But as Emilio was yanked backwards towards a hole in the ground, he couldn’t stop himself from thrashing. There was no way that led anywhere good. “Oh fuck off,” he mumbled, yanking at his leg uselessly. 

It was all he really had time to say before the bottom dropped out from under him and he was falling. The ground beneath rose up to meet him, knocking the air from his lungs as he just barely managed to maneuver to land in a way that saved him from a concussion on top of everything else. He wheezed, trying to determine if any ribs were broken in the fall. If they were, it would be the least of his problems. A glance up towards the rapidly fleeting light above them told him that the hole they’d fallen through had closed behind them. If not for the slayer-enhanced night vision, he’d be flying blind right about now. He wondered how well the gator could see, wondered if it would work more in his favor for him to be blind or capable. He didn’t think the two of them were on their way to friends, but they might have to settle for allies down here.

Forcing himself to still his movements and prevent any further damage from the vines, Emilio let out a breath. He glanced over to the shape of the gator in the darkness, eyeing him carefully. “Are you dead? If you’re not, and you agree not to eat me, maybe I help get you out of this. But I’m not going to help you if you’re going to try to take a bite out of me. Or if you’re dead.”

—

He’d cracked his head against a rock on the way down, sending him into a brief lapse of consciousness. Would have been far worse if he hadn’t been shifted, of course, but he was stirring again within the minute, hearing the man talking to him. Offering him help. Pushing himself up from the earth with a groan, Wyatt shook off the dirt as best he could with the vines still clinging uselessly to his hide. “Looks to me like you need my help,” the gator rebutted, for no purpose other than being a snarky asshole. “Wasn’t hungry, anyway. Just wanted your head.” He looked around them, long jaws cutting through the dark as he blinked a few times to adjust. His eyes reflected red just like any other gator from the minimal moonlight forcing its way through the brambles overhead, giving him an eerie presence as he stood there in the shadows. 

Now that the panic had subsided (they were just in a tunnel in the ground, after all), Wyatt was able to calmly free himself from the brambles, watching them slump uselessly to the dirt. What even was the point here? To pull them underground? Why? It didn’t make sense. 

He crouched down onto all fours, regarding the thorns that held the stranger in place, and the long plants they sprouted from. “You should pull those out,” he noted unhelpfully, suddenly deciding to be charitable. With a huff, the lamia picked a spot on the vines that had less thorns and closed his teeth around it, grinding it down to a paste to help free the stranger. It was with the bad-tasting plants in his mouth that he noticed thin, tendril-like roots crawling their way very, very slowly. Spitting out the vine mush, the gator let out a warning growl. Okay, so maybe there was more to this than just being dumped in a hole. “Watch out for those,” he grumbled, moving away from them to chew on a different spot on the man’s opposite side, hissing angrily as a few thorns stuck him in his tongue and on the roof of his mouth.

—

For a second, he really did think the gator was dead. He wasn’t moving, and with the thorns all around him, it was difficult to tell if he was breathing. There was a strange mix of relief and dread in the thought — relief, because he was pretty sure the pendejo had been about to eat him, but dread because if the shifter was dead, Emilio was alone here. Alone, in a small tunnel beneath the ground, unable to move… It didn’t do particularly well for a man who struggled with a deep-seated fear of enclosed spaces, even if it wasn’t a fear he’d admit to. But then, the gator shifted, and the relief turned to dread while the dread turned to relief. The two seemed to swap places, and Emilio sighed. Even in his head, things were rarely simple. Maybe especially in his head. 

“I’m doing great, actually.” It wasn’t true. It was never really true, but Emilio liked to say it, anyway. He offered the gator a blank stare at the ‘reassurance,’ blinking slowly. “Yeah,” he said flatly, “well, I’m using it.” He wondered, with an idle horror, if the gator collected heads, if he had some room in his house with them lined up and decomposing. The thought wasn’t a particularly comforting one but, given the fact that the gator hadn’t seemed interested in eating the head of the hunter he’d killed topside and claimed to want Emilio’s despite a lack of appetite, it would make an unfortunate amount of sense. 

The shifter made quick work of the brambles holding him down, and Emilio felt a flush of envy as he began the slower process of freeing himself. His dominant right arm was still gripped in the thorns, so he shifted his left into his pocket to pull out a knife and begin working on it. The thorns seemed to protest their own removal, digging in deeper as he sawed through them with the blade. The way he tensed as the shifter approached didn’t help matters much; he felt the thorns sink in a little deeper with the motion, grimaced as they did so. “Wow, never would have thought of that. You’re real helpful,” he said dryly. Then, those massive jaws were right next to him, and Emilio was pretty sure his mouth had finally gotten him killed, when…

The shifter’s jaws sliced through some of the vines, and he could move his arm more freely. Some of the tension bled out of him (along with a healthy amount of actual blood from the thorns), and he offered his temporary ally a curt nod. “Get my leg loose,” he said, nodding down to it. “I’ll work on the arm.” He didn’t particularly want those jaws anywhere near his arm, even if they did seem to be on his side for the moment. His leg was shit, anyway. Short of chomping it off entirely, he didn’t think the shifter could make it much worse. Warily, he followed the gator’s eyes to the roots that seemed to be coming their way. He could imagine what they were after; he didn’t think it was anything he’d like. “Let’s do it quick, then. Probably going to have to walk around to find an exit. The one we came through closed up while you were napping.”

—

“Napping. Right,” Wyatt grumbled around the vines in his mouth. Once they were chewed down and the rest was left to the human, he straightened up and lifted his head to look at the ceiling of brambles over their heads. “Don’t be a dick, mon frère. I can still leave you here… or swallow you in one bite. Either works for me. And you don’t need your head for neither option.” He lowered his gaze again, not loving the idea of trying to climb through those vines, but knowing that he could if he had to. This guy, though… well. He’d probably bleed out before he made it topside. Which was seeming like it wouldn't be any great loss, but it probably wasn't worth the effort of getting through that insidious tangle of plantlife. 

“Since when is the forest a threat?” Wyatt wondered aloud, sounding put out by the whole thing. “This place… swear I ain't met more nefarious critters like I've met here.” He was speaking to himself mostly, dropping onto all fours again and lumbering down the tunnel slowly, tail swinging dangerously behind him, whipping the sides of the underground structure and, unbeknownst to Wyatt, making it quite easy for the roots of the Miner's Ruin that grew throughout these tunnels to follow them. The human could follow him or not, it didn't make much difference to him. He did however swing his head to the side to regard the man with one eye once he heard him trailing behind, giving an impatient huff. “What you like to be called, man? Also, and more importantly, you a hunter? I don't like hunters.” 

—

With most of the vines sliced away with the gator’s sharp teeth, it was easy for Emilio to cut through the rest with his blade. Getting to his feet was a little less easy, of course. He didn’t like the amount of blood soaking the ground where he’d been laying, scowled at the puddle like it might soak itself back into his veins if he only looked at it sharply enough. Of course, this did very little to actually help the lightheadedness that came with standing, so Emilio figured he was better off using that energy to focus on staying upright. “Ah, I’m always a dick,” he replied, glancing back to his reluctant companion. “And if you do that, you’ll be on your own down here. Might not want that.” There was no telling what they’d run into down here, and while the talking gator probably stood a better chance than Emilio against most things, Emilio did have the benefit of knowledge on his side. It was just about all he had to offer in this state, though he wouldn’t admit to that.

He snorted at the gator’s question, staggering to follow as he walked down the tunnel. He didn’t really want to walk with a guy who’d threatened to eat him more than once now, but there wasn’t any other place to go. And Emilio had no desire to stay in the small opening with the vines that seemed capable of attacking him. “Forest is always a threat. You’ve just been lucky until now.” He had to walk close to the wall to avoid being hit by the gator’s tail, though he didn’t voice this inconvenience. If he did, he had a feeling the guy would only make things worse for him. And, still bleeding sluggishly and concentrating harder than he’d like to admit on keeping his balance, Emilio wasn’t sure he could afford for things to be much worse. “Emilio,” he replied flatly. “And you don’t like me either way, so I don’t think that matters.” He could lie, say he wasn’t a hunter, but he didn’t see much point in it. He had all the telltale signs of being one, from the weapons lining his jacket to the way he carried himself. He figured if he told the truth now, the gator might decide not to eat him. If he lied and the truth came out later, he was as good as digested. 

—

All that Wyatt gave in response to the claim concerning his luck was an uninterested snort. No, he wasn’t lucky. He’d been the most fearsome thing in the swamp back home, and as far as he was concerned, he was the most fearsome thing around here, too. The vines had just been unexpected. And clearly not intelligent enough to know when they’d bagged a meal as inedible as Wyatt. Stupid plants. Nefarious critters were certainly abundant here, but the lamia feared none of them so far. Well… none but the birds. But that was neither here nor there. 

Hm. He wasn’t wrong, certainly. Wyatt had no positive feelings for this man, which was curious considering he’d decided to chew him free of the vines. He hoped he wouldn’t live to regret that decision: there was no doubt in his mind that he could dispatch this hunter if the need arose, but he didn’t feel like expending the energy. He’d just eaten, after all, and he was tired. More tired than he always was, these days, thanks to his shitty dreams and even shittier sleep. Something that he was reminded of as they wandered through the dark and he listened for sounds. There wasn’t much, save the occasional tumble of rocks and dirt, usually a result of him brushing against the side of the tunnel. The air was quiet and still with not a single draught to be felt. That didn’t bode well. 

The tunnel curved this way and that, but for now, it was a singular path. Wyatt was about to comment on how fortunate that was when they came upon a split and the gator halted his march, looking down one tunnel, then the other. He let out a frustrated growl, angling his head again to look at Emilio. 

“Do you feel anything?” he asked grumpily. “My hide isn’t exactly the most sensitive…”

—

The shifter didn’t seem particularly interested in talking and, in all honesty, there was relief to be found in that. Emilio was far too petty to allow the gator to have the last word in any given conversation, but he was spending an awful lot of his focus on staying upright now. He had no doubt that if he passed out due to blood loss, the shifter would leave him behind. Or eat him before he regained consciousness. In a place like this, with the vines that dragged them here still hanging off the walls, both options were death sentences. 

So Emilio focused on holding on to his consciousness, dragging his leg behind him like it was dead weight rather than a functioning limb. At the moment, it was very much true. The added sharp pain left by the thorny vines only seemed to make the constant ache the limb suffered feel all the more apparent. He wasn’t sure how much more walking he had in him, wasn’t sure he’d make it to the light at the end of the very literal tunnel. He grit his teeth with each step, determined to at least avoid making any sound to showcase his discomfort. 

He was so focused on walking that he didn’t notice the shifter ahead of him had stopped until he nearly rammed into the guy. Blinking the spots out of his vision as best he could, he looked at the path ahead of them. Or… the two paths. His slayer abilities granted him enough vision to see pretty far into the tunnels, though neither seemed more enticing than the other. “If there’s anything undead in them, it’s a way’s away,” he replied, not thinking about the fact that he’d just given up the fact that he was a slayer. The shifter had already deduced that he was a hunter; what did it matter what kind he was? “Can’t see anything that makes one look better than the other, either. At least…” He tilted his head, taking a closer look and humming. “One on the left has less vines. I like the sound of that.”

—

The air was stagnant and strangely hot, and while it came as a comfort to the cold-blooded creature, it also was making him very, very sleepy. “But there is something undead around here, is what you’re saying?” A slayer. Great. One more person to worry about. Owen had been a special case, he told himself. Strictly interested in vampires, and as far as he was aware, Wyatt didn’t know any vampires. “Whatever. Less vines sounds good. Let’s go.” His head was hanging low as he plodded along, and he was so out of it that he barely noticed Emilio struggling to match pace. But eventually he did, despite the man’s best attempts to hide it, and grumbled. “What, you low on blood or something?” He knew the answer, he was just being a shit about it. “I’m not giving you a ride if you collapse. I don’t have to be fast, just faster than you.” 

As if something had heard them discussing their current shortcomings, a low, muffled sound came from deeper down the tunnel. It sounded like something being dragged over the dirt and rock, or something… slithering? Hard to say. Whatever it was, it had Wyatt stopping again as he peered into the darkness. “What was that,” he stage whispered, as if Emilio would know any better than he. Well… maybe he would, he was like a Van Helsing type or whatever.

—

Emilio shrugged, grimacing as the motion pulled at the number of small cuts and slices left behind by the vines. If he sat still long enough, he’d probably heal up pretty quick. Slayers were good at that kind of thing. But in this particular situation, it was something of a double-edged sword. If he sat still, the shifter would leave him behind to fend for himself against the vines and whatever else was down here. Emilio had little choice but to keep moving, to trail along behind the shifter as he trudged on into the tunnel Emilio had indicated. “I’m fine,” he snapped, gritting his teeth against the sting of both the wounds and the harsh reminder that he wasn’t exactly among friends here. “I know you’re not doing me any favors. You’ve been pretty clear about that.” It wasn’t hard to be faster than Emilio, even without his current state being factored in, but he didn’t comment on that, either.

He tilted his head a little, straining to hear the sound coming from deep within the tunnel. It was hard to pinpoint which direction it was even coming from, much less what the source of it might have been. Emilio looked out into the darkness, staring as far as he could see, but there was a bend just ahead that made it impossible to see too far ahead. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He glanced back behind them… only to find that the way they’d come from was now overgrown with the same vines that had dragged them here. He hadn’t realized how fast they moved before. “Shit,” he muttered. “We have to keep going. Whatever it is, we’ll just have to… Deal with it, I guess.”

Shoving past the gator, he shuffled forward, looking more like a zombie than a man who killed them. He stumbled a little, approaching the bend and turning the corner. There were… roots. Roots that were strewn over a body that looked unfortunately similar to the photo Emilio’s client had given him. “Goddamn it,” the detective cursed. “Fuck.”

—

The hunter was cursing, and Wyatt rose up into a hunkered stand to see over his head. “What? It’s a dead guy.” Covered in roots. So those roots were bad news. “Kinda looks like they turned him to jerky. Weird.” The roots took notice of their presence, receding from the body to crawl their way instead. Wyatt hissed, taking a step back. The vines were still behind them, advancing. They were trapped. The only option was to try and jump over the roots, which was definitely not something the human here was going to be able to do, given the distance and his leg. Wyatt groaned, realizing that he didn’t really have the heart to leave the poor bastard behind, helpless as he was. 

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, lowering himself onto all fours again and shoving his snout against the backs of Emilio’s thighs to knock him off his feet. He was draped momentarily on the lamia’s head, who growled out a reluctant “Hold on,” before taking as many more steps backward as he could, preparing to bolt forward and leap over the dangerous terrain. The grinding sound grew louder now, but Wyatt paid it no mind as he sprinted toward the danger, bounding through the air and hoping that Emilio had managed to secure his grip well enough to not fall off. 

Something in the distance made an angry noise as Wyatt landed safely on the other side of the tangle of roots. He lowered his head to the dirt so Emilio could dismount, gaze fixed down the dark tunnel. Something was moving. A heat signature was getting warmer as it got closer, and he felt the crawling tingle of the anticipation of a fight crawling up his spine. “We got company.”

—

“Yeah,” Emilio ground out, immeasurably angry without quite understanding why. “It’s a dead guy. Just… His wife was looking for him.” There was a hint of bitter defeat to his tone, the words feeling clunky against his tongue. Probably the blood loss, he figured. Plenty of his cases went bad; it never tended to bother him much. But lately… Every misstep felt apocalyptic, like he was failing in a thousand different ways. Another failure, another stone landing atop the mountain on his shoulders… it felt monumental, and it shouldn’t have. It was stupid. It was just the blood loss, he decided. That was the only thing that was wrong. 

He took a deep breath, tried to steady himself. He needed to get the body. He needed to at least bring that back, needed to give the guy’s wife something she could bury. Ignoring the shifter’s grumbling, Emilio prepared to begin the process of untangling the corpse from the roots with his blade only to be interrupted by the shifter knocking him off his feet. “What the fuck are you —” Instinct tightened his grip against the gator’s scales, keeping him on the shifter’s back as he leaped over the roots. Emilio hadn’t even registered the danger, really; that must have been the blood loss, too. This was why he preferred broken bones. They were so much less annoying.

The movement jostled him, and Emilio grunted as they landed. Something was moving, was coming towards them, but his eyes were still on the corpse. “We have to get him,” he said firmly, taking a step towards the body. “We’ve gotta bring him, too. He’s — His wife is looking for him. She’s — She needs a body to bury. She at least needs that.” There was a desperate edge to his tone, and he kept repeating reassurances in his mind. It was the blood loss. It was just the blood loss. That was all it was. He was still him, he wasn’t broken, there was just too much blood on the ground. “We get him, and we run. We’ll find another way out, but we gotta bring him with us.”

—

Wyatt would have frowned if his anatomy had allowed it, but there was enough disdain in his tone to convey the emotion regardless. “I am not draggin’ a fuckin’ stanky ass corpse outta here,” he argued. Because it would be him, they both knew that. Emilio was in no shape to be hauling a body around—he could barely haul himself around. The desperation in his tone didn't sit right with Wyatt, who felt like he needed to justify himself further. So much so that he was willing to give up information he'd rather not share with a hunter, but… “Listen. I just ate. I ain't full yet but I'm damn near close. What I need is a nap in the sun, mon frére. Not to be carrying two useless humans outta a hole in the ground while some fuckin’ devil is chasin’ us.” He was certainly more sluggish than he would've been otherwise, and his body was complaining about all the movement. He needed to be still to digest without making himself sick, but this whole fucking situation was not lending itself to that. “Leave it. His wife can bury his favorite sweaty ballcap or somethin’.” The thing down the tunnel in front of them was getting closer, and Wyatt felt his spine tingle with nervousness. He wasn't fit to fight right now. “Come on, man! Leave it!” 

—

“I’ll carry him,” Emilio insisted, though they both knew it was a lie. Emilio would be lucky if he managed to get himself out of this situation without the shifter carrying him — and he still wasn’t sure the stranger would even submit to that much. Odds were, Emilio was going to die down here, anyway. The shifter would pat himself on the back about there being one less hunter in the world, and Emilio’s client would never know what happened to her husband. (Would Teddy know what had happened to Emilio? They’d probably be able to guess, but he doubted they’d ever accept it without a body. Probably not even with one.) 

He let out a sound of frustration, though it sounded a little more like a whine. His wedding band felt heavy on his finger, like a cinderblock tied to his ankle determined to carry him to the bottom of a river to rot. “It’s not just — You bury them, and there’s closure. It lets it feel finished. It’s not — She’ll never be finished if we leave him here. She deserves to be finished.” Did he? It hadn’t exactly been his choice not to stick around and bury bodies when the massacre had still been raging as a backdrop to his escape, but he’d never gone back after the fact and maybe he could have. Maybe he could have seen the graves Rhett dug for Juliana and Flora. Maybe he could have dug some for Rosa and Edgar, too. For Jaime. Victor had no grave. Rhett, wherever he’d wound up, probably wouldn’t get one, either. Maybe Emilio should let the shifter leave him here to carry on the family tradition, to fall and die and decay and never let the world see a stone with his name carved into it and his body beneath it. His client would never be finished. Neither would Emilio. 

He deflated like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Whatever was coming was drawing ever nearer. The corpse was covered in roots, and he couldn’t get back to it without the shifter’s help. What was he, then, if not a collection of failures bunched together in the form of a man? Unable to save his family, unable to protect Nora or Wynne, unable to convince his brother to relinquish a decades-old grudge for the sake of a daughter who loved him. He couldn’t even manage to get a corpse out of a hole. What was the fucking point of him, he wondered? What was he good for? 

“His wife was looking for him,” he said again, defeated. “She was looking. She asked me to look.”

His eyes burned. His face felt wet. He blamed it on the blood loss.

—

Jesus christ, this dude looked miserable. Wyatt groaned and rolled his slitted eyes, squinting them shut as he cursed softly beneath his breath. “Fine! Fine. Fuck. But you are gonna owe me after this,” the lamia grumbled, turning around again in the narrow tunnel to face the relatively fresh(ish) corpse trapped in the roots. Had he died of starvation, or…? Wyatt began to guess the cause as he pushed his clawed hands into the mess of vegetation, craning his neck and stretching out as far as could, and the roots quickly slithered over his scales and made him feel… sleepy… fuck. Fuck. Wyatt gave a grunt and opened his maw, grabbing the body by its shirt with his front teeth and pulling backward. His muscles grew tired with alarming speed as the roots tried to gain purchase on him, finding it hard thanks to his natural armor. He backed up as quickly as he could, dragging the body free from the roots and down the tunnel far enough to give them a moment’s peace. There he collapsed, exhausted. “Do not touch that stuff,” he warned Emilio. “Just… need a sec. Ugh.” There wasn’t going to be a good way to get the body out of here unless it went in his mouth (ew), or if Emilio held it in place on his back… not feeling thrilled about the idea of carrying a corpse on his tongue, the lamia gave Emilio an annoyed look. 

“You’re gonna have to ride up top with that thi— guy,” he explained, glancing over his own shoulder at his back. “Keep… him secure while I figure out how to get outta here. Can you manage that?”

—

He wasn’t expecting the shifter to relent. If anything, Emilio figured the gator would leave him in the tunnels with the corpse to die. And that was the kinder outcome Emilio had predicted. He still wasn’t entirely sure the guy wasn’t planning on eating him, after all. But… instead of doing any of that, the gator went back to the body. He pulled at the roots, he yanked it free. The gratefulness Emilio felt was an overwhelming thing, enough to nearly knock him over. (Which… wasn’t saying much right now, was it? He was pretty sure a burst of strong wind could have handled that particular job.) 

He hovered a little as the shifter freed the corpse and pulled it away from the roots, following on unsteady feet. When the shifter collapsed, Emilio eyed him warily, wondering the cause. He glanced back to the roots, some part of him immediately filled with a destructive desire to reach out and brush against them the moment he was told not to, but he resisted the urge. “Any idea what it is?” Maybe Emilio would have known if not for the clouds in his mind and the way it was taking most of his concentration to remain upright, or maybe he wouldn’t have. It was difficult to say for sure.

The shifter was speaking, and Emilio forced himself to follow along. Sit up top? Up top on what? There was nothing… Oh. Right. His eyes flickered to the shifter’s back, jaw set. He wanted to argue a little, but… even if he wouldn’t have to drag the corpse along with him, he would have had trouble walking out of here. This solution was probably the only one that saw even a chance at Emilio making it topside, and he knew it. “I can do that,” he replied, leaning down to grab the corpse and nearly toppling over in the process. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath. Carefully, he grabbed the body under the arms and hoisted him up, dragging him over the gator’s back. The motion served to reopen wounds that his healing factor had already closed, but it also allowed him a moment of independence, and that made it well worth it. He paused for a moment, swaying on his feet and heaving a sigh. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For… It’ll be good. It’ll be good for his wife to have something to bury. It’s hard to… move on without that.” 

(He tried not to think of Rhett, but it was an impossible task.)

—

“If I did, I wouldn’t have rightly touched it,” Wyatt argued with a huff, forcing a small dust and dirt cloud into the air from where his head sat useless on the ground. He watched carefully as Emilio parsed out what it was he was saying, struggling with the body but eventually getting it slung over the shifter’s back. “Don’t thank me yet, mon frère… we still gotta get outta here.” He couldn’t disagree more with what the hunter was saying about the body, but figured it didn’t much matter at this point. Arguing wasn’t going to help their situation.

Waiting until Emilio was straddling his spine, Wyatt heaved another breath and pushed himself up onto all fours, keeping his head and shoulders a little lower than was comfortable to keep the two humans from sliding off of his back and down his tail. The slithering sound was growing louder, and Wyatt’s heartbeat grew faster. Even with the adrenaline spike, all he wanted to do was sleep. Fighting something, especially something as big as whatever this was, sounded fucking exhausting. 

Yellow eyes peered into the blackness that yawned wide before them as the tunnel opened up into a cavern. The air was damp, the drips of moisture filling what would have otherwise been an eerie silence. Eerie, because they were not alone. Down the craggy stone slope dotted with a curious red moss, curled defensively in the center of the cave floor, was a massive beast. The heat signature was cool, nearly blending in with the surroundings. A snake. A huge fucking snake, with fur that ran along its spine like a mohawk. Wyatt’s interest piqued, wondering if this was another lamia. But god it was massive… way bigger than any he’d ever seen before. 

Wait. He’d heard about something like this before, hadn’t he? He was recalling the stories his father would tell of lamia that had spontaneously mutated after their fiftieth birthday—it was a fate that hung over him like a cloud in his youth, a scary bedtime story that inspired him to do better, to be better… even though his moral standing would have no actual bearing on whether or not he’d end up like this poor creature. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, knowing the bolla was awake, and that that was bad. “Fuck, the poor thing—we need to go. It’s awake. It shouldn’t be awake.” The odds were astronomically against that this happened to be a period of activity for the beast that would easily hibernate for a dozen years at a time. Wyatt moved carefully along the ledge, brushing against the red moss as he went, feeling the rust colored water drip down onto his snout from the stalactites overhead. “Hey, cover yourself. Don’t touch the plants or the water,” he warned Emilio. It didn’t bother him, thankfully — in fact, it was making him feel much better than he had in a while, even before the roots had sapped away his energy. 

The bolla shifted, body writhing and coiling in its defensive pile, eyes locked on the gator and his passengers. Gargantuan jaws parted and the creature let out a hiss, long and loud. Wyatt froze, his whole body tensed and ready to fling itself from the ledge to get away from the bolla. There was a soft breeze and pinprick of light coming from the other side of the cavern… their way out. But the bolla had something else in mind, and started to raise itself up to strike. 

“Dump the body!” Wyatt bellowed, scrabbling backward and out of the way as the bolla snapped at them, snout crashing into the wall of the cavern. It began to unfurl, and he knew what came next—they’d get wrapped up in those strong coils of muscle and be crushed to death. “Give it somethin’ to attack besides us!”

—

“Right,” Emilio mumbled, too tired to argue. People touched shit all the time when they knew it was dangerous, after all… but insinuating that he thought the shifter was probably an idiot when said shifter was also his only real hope of making it out of this mess mostly alive wasn’t really something that seemed like the best course of action right now. Bloodied and aching as he was, Emilio didn’t have it in him to be his usual levels of difficult. It took most of his energy just to get the corpse onto the shifters back, drained what remained of the reserves to climb up next to it. He held the body against the gator’s spine, tapping his shoulder lightly as if to give him a go-ahead to move.

Even though it was expected, the jolt of his ride moving forward still sent a nauseating wave of pain over the fresh wounds dealt out by the brambles. Emilio closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of the lessons his mother had drilled into him as a kid. Pain is a signal. Signals can be ignored. If you pushed deep enough, you could convince yourself something didn’t hurt. Emilio got good at it, after a while. It was hard to do after one blow, but easier after four. Dull pain was simpler to push down, sharp pain was more complex. Something like this took a lot of trying, but you could do it if you tried. Blend it all together, stuff it down deep. You couldn’t keep it up forever, but you could do it long enough to pull yourself out of a hole.

He lost himself in it, in the ignoring of the signal. It took a lot of concentration, and what little he wasn’t using on that was being spent holding on to the shifter’s back and keeping the body in place. When the shifter spoke, voice rumbling across his scales, Emilio allowed himself to believe, momentarily, that it might be good news. A way out, an exit. He really should have known better. Emilio Cortez had never been blessed with that kind of luck, after all.

He opened his eyes, letting out a sigh at the sight of some reptilian creature ahead of them. He sounded more resigned than anything else, like he’d always known this would happen. Already, his mind was writing the end of this story. The shifter would dump him here and leave him behind, and his body would never be found. Nora and Wynne and Teddy would look for him until the day they died, unwilling to accept an uncertain end. He found himself hoping the shifter would take his client’s husband to the surface in spite of everything, give her some kind of closure. It felt unlikely. 

More words trembled across scales. It took Emilio a moment to grasp them, to pull them in and translate them into something understandable. There was desperation in the tone. It was a little surprising. Didn’t the shifter know he could dump the dead weight?

Except… That was exactly what he was telling Emilio to do. It just wasn’t in the way the slayer had expected it to be.

Something gripped his throat tightly, his heart thrumming against his chest. “No,” he choked out, but he knew they were out of options. They could get everyone still living out of this mess, or… 

(Was Emilio’s life worth more than a corpse? Would it be worth it, to deny his client closure but to tell her to her face rather than hope a stranger would deliver a battered corpse to repay a man to whom he owed nothing? There was only one answer here with any certainty. Emilio just didn’t like it.)

“I — I don’t —” He wanted to give her something, wanted to allow her a grave to visit that wasn’t empty or an urn full of ashes that used to be something. But even if the shifter dumped him here, it would be difficult to get the body to the surface without Emilio holding it in place. He knew the best solution. He’d known it since the moment his mind caught up to the situation.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he nodded. He looked down at the corpse, slipped the ring off its finger and tucked it into his pocket. He patted it down and found a wallet, took that, too. A chain around its neck attached to dog tags that lined up with his client’s detail that her husband was a military man. Emilio pulled those off as well. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to the body. “I’m sorry. I wanted to do more, I —” Wasn’t that the story of his life? A thousand mistakes coated in his good intentions. He closed his eyes, shoving the body off with all his might and leaning down to grip the shifter’s scales. “Go.” 

—

Wyatt didn’t need to be told twice. He launched himself forward the moment Emilio gave him the all clear, hearing the bolla turn its attention on the corpse they’d dumped as it hissed again and started to circle around the body, gathering it up for a good squeeze. Well, at least the guy was already dead. Crushed wasn’t a great way to go. 

Scrabbling over rocks and dirt, the lamia made it to the opposite side of the cavern as quickly as he could, toward the light. Slipping into the tunnel and realizing it was far too narrow for the like of this form, he groaned. He was still half-full from his meal, and carrying Emilio out of here was going to be a lot harder when they were roughly the same fuckin’ size. “Pleeaaase widen,” he begged the tunnel, scraping along on his belly and nosing large, loose rocks out of the way. The light was getting closer but the tunnel was getting smaller, like it was one the bolla had made some time ago that was caving in on itself. Wyatt stopped, huffing and puffing and wanting absolutely nothing more than to take a nap. Nightmares be damned. “We’re almost there. Almost…” He was speaking mostly to himself, trying to psych himself up for the partial shift and the discomfort that was going to come with that. “Okay.” Fuck. 

The lamia started to shrink beneath Emilio, taking on a more human appearance, though he remained covered in scales. He got to his feet, gathering the hunter up in his arms and ignoring any protest that he could do it on his own, because that would just take longer and Wyatt did not want to start retching up bits of human right now. His shortened muzzle parted as he let out an unfortunate gag, hurrying along through the horribly narrow passage. The light brightened, the breeze kicked up, and the tunnel finally grew wide again as it sloped gently toward the surface. Wyatt set Emilio down and gagged again, shifting back to his natural form and shaking away the feeling of sick that was crawling up his spine. He wanted out of here, like yesterday, and so he didn’t even ask this time as he scooped the man up into his jaws (gently) and loped the last few hundred yards out of the hole in the ground and to the forest that waited for them. 

—

The shifter jolted forward so quickly that Emilio nearly tumbled off his back, gripping him tighter as he rode out the wave of pain that washed over his body. He’d heal as soon as he let himself sit still enough to do it, but the multitude of small cuts those brambles had left him with had opened and reopened about a thousand times since the start of this ordeal, and it was starting to get to him just a little. He buried his face in the shifter’s scales, biting his tongue to keep from letting out any noise. 

Behind him, he heard the creature — whatever it was — moving towards the corpse they’d dropped. His hearing had been a little worse since that banshee screamed at him in the graveyard but, somehow, he swore he could hear every second of the thing wrapping itself around the body, could hear each individual snap of the dead bones long after they should have been out of earshot. Was it better this way? Kinder, somehow? Emilio thought of his client, waiting for answers. He thought of his wife, and the way he couldn’t imagine her now without seeing her pale and bloodless on the living room floor. He thought of Rhett, and the answers he’d probably never get. He didn’t think there was any kind way to lose someone.

It took him longer than it should have to realize that the shape beneath him was shifting, and his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. There was a tunnel. It was small. Okay. They’d have to walk through that, then. That was okay. Emilio was pretty sure his brain still worked well enough to send the signals through to his legs, even if one of those legs was fucking —

The shifted picked him up. It hadn’t felt quite so humiliating when he was a giant alligator, but now that he was mostly human, Emilio took offense. “Hey, I can walk just fine, estúp-” The passage narrowed, and Emilio’s mouth snapped shut. The walls were closing in, everything was getting smaller, and the air was a little too thin. They were going to die here, anyway, weren’t they? They got away from the creature in the tunnels just to suffocate. His throat felt tight. He wondered if he’d bleed to death before they ran out of air, wondered if there was any hope he’d go quickly instead of slowly.

Light broke through as they exited the tunnel, but Emilio remained checked out even as the shifter set him down and jostled the various injuries he’d collected. He was still imagining a slow suffocation, offering no protest as the shifter scooped him up into his mouth. They were out of the tunnel. They were in the forest. Emilio still thought he might suffocate. 

“Gonna eat me now?” He mumbled, trying to ground himself in the moment. Not a tunnel. Not a shed. Not a factory. 

—

Wyatt sank to the forest floor, resting his jaw in the ferns and rocking his head to the side to gently dump Emilio out of his mouth. “God, no. I feel like blowin’ chunks,” he retorted, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging his clawed hands over the top of his maw. Ugh. Ugh, he always felt like shit when he shifted too soon after eating. “Do what you will, but I ain't movin’ from this spot for a while.” He could have asked if Emilio was okay, but he felt he already knew the answer to that—the guy seemed miles away. Besides, he didn't care, right? This was just another hunter. 

All that being the case… a hunter still had body heat to be absorbed. Body heat that would help Wyatt feel better sooner. With a huff, the shifter swung his head to the side and butted it up against Emilio while the rest of him curled inward without explanation, creating a semi-circle around him. The man could get up and leave if he was offended, but the state he was in had Wyatt figuring he wasn't quite ready, either. “Not a word,” he growled. He wasn't about to listen to a bunch of bitching over the situation. 

—

Was he relieved to hear that he wouldn’t be eaten? Some distant part of him thought he probably ought to be. It wouldn’t have been great to escape this whole ordeal just to be swallowed at the end of it, but Emilio was finding it hard to grasp onto much of anything right now. He buried fingers in the grass and dirt he was laying in, tried to ground himself in the most literal sense of the word, but it seemed so far away. All he could manage was a quiet hum as the shifter claimed he wasn’t moving for a while. That meant Emilio should be the one to move, didn’t it? He should get up, should drag himself back to Teddy’s, should see if there was enough duct tape to take care of the worst of his injuries here. Most of it was superficial — there was just a lot of superficial to worry about. Death by a thousand cuts was about as much fun as it sounded, apparently. 

He was lost in some version of thought, laying on his back with his fingers in the dirt and staring up at the sky when the shifter moved again. Emilio tensed a little, but… the jaw didn’t unhinge. The teeth didn’t find his skin. Instead, the shifter pressed against him for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. Emilio lay stiller than he was normally capable for a moment before his usual small movements returned — the twitching fingers, the shaking legs. He hummed again, trying to think of something witty to say. “Your breath,” he said slowly, as if he was testing each individual word on his tongue, “smells terrible.”

—

“Yeah, well, you ain't winnin’ any flower-smellin’ contests, neither,” Wyatt grumbled. “Just shut up n’ be still. You're warm.” That was all the explanation he was willing to give, snorting with irritation and settling in. For now, his exhaustion outweighed the desire to stay awake, and he felt the quiet hush of sleep start to envelop him after only a few seconds of silence, and decided not to fight it. Except there was one more thing… “Hey, great mouse detective… I'm gonna be hittin’ you up for a cut of the pay for findin’ that body. That damn thing almost cost me my life. Twice.”

—

“I smell great,” Emilio argued, still feeling far away from himself. Had he made it out of those tunnels? Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he was there now, being crushed alongside that corpse. The thought was almost funny, but he couldn’t muster up a laugh. The shifter settled against him, and Emilio forced himself to be as still as he was able. As soon as his wounds healed enough for him to move without bleeding, he thought, he’d be fine. Until then, he could handle being a space heater for an alligator. He snorted at the shifter’s demand, rolling his eyes. Somehow, even that hurt. “I’ll give you twenty bucks,” he retorted. “Twenty-five if you agree not to eat me later.”

—

“Twenty-five it is,” Wyatt agreed. “Now be quiet. I’m nappin’.” And if he had a nightmare? Eh… that was a bridge he’d cross when he came to it, even if it meant mutilating this sad sack of a man. (He hoped he wouldn’t. But he wasn’t gonna admit that.) The sun was warm overhead, filtered through the little spring leaves of the trees and bathing them in a smattering of gold splotches of light. The forest was quiet save for the chirping of birds and the steady, slow hiss of Wyatt’s breath as he left himself be overcome by his tiredness. 

It was no wood stove in his cozy little cabin, but it would do. 

[merryfortune]

Weed Eater

Written for the FE Flash Fic Friday on Dreamwidth

Prompt: MLM Ships

Title: Weed Eater

Ship: Dedue/Dimitri

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Word Count: 1,432

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Gardenverse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Blue Lions Route

   There was a type of folk considered fey amongst the people of Duscur. Not spoken of often because it was so unusual, even they considered the talk of the Flower Eaters to be but a poorly remembered myth. This, too, was a legacy that Dedue embodied, too, for better or for worse. It was considered as unlucky as it was beautiful.

   He still remembered the confusion and the elation, when he was a young child. Still small and innocent and naive to the ways of the world and he expressed his love with how any child would: with wild flowers freshly picked.

   “Mama, Mama, look what I can do!” he had cried out, happy and joyous with a big smile on his face. He was what? Four?

   The look of fondness on his Mother’s face turned in an instant as Dedue showed her what was in his hands and it was not a trick of light. As he uncurled his fingers, the flowers that he unveiled were not from the garden but from him.

   “Dedue, my love, you must never show this talent of yours to anyone, understand?” his Mother warned him as she accepted the little, yellow flowers Dedue had produced from his palm. “And you must always avoid anyone who would want to eat them.”

   That was even unluckier. To be a Flower Eater. That was a curse far greater and heavier than the one which Dedue had upon him as a Flower Grower - or Florist, as he would come to hear amongst the mainland of Fódland. Turns out they were in tune with different bits and pieces of Duscur lore, filtered through inaccuracies. A long, long tale which had changed every time it had been spoken between two people. 

   Much like a school rumour, actually. 

   Deduce did his best, at the Officers Academy, to be as detached as possible but people talked. Even to him. Though he did his best to not talk back. 

   He minded his own business. He kept to himself, to the greenhouse, and no one was none the wiser to Dedue’s status as a Florist. People knew he had a green thumb but no one suspected that there was something more to his talent and gift with plants was nothing more than the innate knack that certain gardeners had.

   No one except Dimitri and Dedue had his own suspicions about what exactly Dimitri was.

   More than a friend, a house leader, a lord or a prince. There was a great darkness inside of him as well but Dimitri did his best to obscure it underneath a well-controlled and amiable persona. This extended far and wide to being close and personal.

   However, Dedue didn’t want to talk about Duscur traditions or lore with Dimitri. Though, sometimes Dimitri would pry about innocuous things. Food, fashion, geography. The most surface level things so he could try and be close with him but Dedue was ever a brick wall. 

   Though a watchful one.

   Maybe he was channelling his Mother, her spirit and her memory, too much but he saw the signs. Dimitri was exactly the type of person she used to warn him about. The Flower Eater. No Fódland name for it, as far as Dedue had heard, anyway.

   They were characterised as the tragics, the obsessives, the ones who were always hungry for… something. Be it flesh or… be it flowers. 

   Dimitri was exactly that person and a little quip that he let slip confirmed it in Dedue’s mind. To anyone else it would have been funny but Dimitri wanted to eat the weeds. They had been assigned to gardening related tasks, like pulling weeds, by Professor Byleth to help. 

   And it only worsened from there, Dedue would observe from Dimitri’s side.

   He was a very different person. 

   To everyone bar Dedue.

   He had always sensed that one day Dimitri would snap. That he was hungry in a way that civil society could not provide as it went beyond a need for food but for vengeance. For blood and flesh and… flowers.

   After everything that had happened. Edelgard’s assault on the Academy. His separation from Dimitri and the allies that he had amongst his Blue Lion classmates, Dedue shuddered with recollection. There was still much to be done, such as restoring the Holy Kingdom, clearing the name of the Duscur people, and more. 

   “I’m … I’m happy to know you are still alive, Dedue,” Dimitri grovelled to him. “And that you are real.”

   “Yes, I’m real.” Dedue replied.

   He let Dimitri touch him. To confirm his warmth, his heartbeat, his breath. 

   Though much of Dimitri’s sanity appeared to have returned to him as he got catharsis from facing Edelgard or returning to tutelage in Professor Byleth’s stead, and yes, of course, Dedue’s return to his side as vassal. There was still more to be regained, if it could at all, and an underlying fragility despite Dimitri’s present calm and serenity.

   There was still more that Dedue could do for Dimitri.

   He waited until an appropriate time. He had never disclosed this to anyone. His family had known but no one else knew. So, Dedue waited for a calm, blue night when the moon was big and full and the purest white. He invited Dimitri for a late night walk to the gardens. Just them and their companionship. Nothing more, nothing less. 

   Standing by the gazebo with his hands behind his back, gazing out over the lawn, “Can I tell you a secret?” Dedue asked.

   He was finally ready to open up. He watched as Dimitri visibly perked up and for a moment, Dedue saw a flash of Dimitri’s seventeen year old self in the world weary and one-eyed face that he now bore. It made Dedue’s heart falter but he steeled himself.

   If he was correct, if Dimitri was a Flower Eater like he thought, then his Mother’s wisdom was too far gone on him. Dedue had doomed himself the minute he pledged allegiance to Dimitri in gratitude for saving him. 

   “Please, go ahead.” Dimitri told him.

   “I want you to know this.” Dedue said.

   As he had grown older, it had become less easy to hide his condition. As a child, it was a painless magic trick, like a sleight of hand, to produce these flowers from his body but as he went through adolescence, that was part of his body which changed. He had to shave them off like he would the whiskers on his chin, sometimes it would even hurt when these pretty, dainty little yellow flowers would bloom. 

   Dimitri watched, mutedly amazed, as Dedue showed him this legacy of Duscur, too. 

   They lived in a world, amongst people, who conjure lightning and fire, control the winds, and yet this simple little thing elicited such oddness and mystery. It was strange. 

   Dimitri caressed the petal of the flower, he followed the natural arc of it with his finger. It was soft, he noted. All whilst Dedue told him bits and pieces from his Mother’s fairy tales. How his siblings used to be jealous of him because he had a gift that they did not and that was unfair. 

   Dimitri listened intently.

   “I had no idea that such people existed.” Dimitri said, quietly awed. “I must be quite fortunate to have you by my side then.”

   “Yes, about that…” Dedue murmured.

   He plucked the flower and his fingers reacted as though he had given himself a paper cut. There was a thin line of red on his palm, like a scratch, and an involuntary twitch amongst his fingers. He offered it to Dimitri but when Dimitri tried to accept it with his hands, Dedue glared. He kept going. He offered to feed it to Dimitri and Dimitri, confused, did open his mouth.

   Dimitri chewed thoughtfully. Dedue had never once wondered what the flowers he produced would taste like. He had never seriously thought that he would encounter a counterpart to his own condition but Dimitri’s expression.

   “I like the taste of it.” Dimitri whispered. His lips quivered, like he was holding back an involuntary smile. Colour, ever so slightly, was added to his cheeks, too, that he could not interfere with. 

   Dedue blinked. He was actually taken aback to hear that considering… Dimitri was not known to be an auteur of taste or otherwise a gourmand. But it did flatter him to hear so. Even if it did affirm in Dedue’s mind that Dimitri was as every bit as tragic and obsessive and hungry as Dedue was promised when he was warned of as a child. 

[lemoncrushh]

Out of Bounds - Chapter 18

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 2157

James was gone when I got up the next morning. I was grateful that I didn't have to face him. It was cold and rainy outside so I wore my heavier coat for the first time since last spring. When I put my hands in the pockets, I felt something and pulled it out. It was a ticket stub from a movie that James and I had gone to see. I hadn't really been interested, and didn't care for the film, but James had so I'd kept my mouth shut.

Thinking back, I remembered a lot of little things like that. Where it wasn't my choice or my decision, but I'd gone along with it to make him happy. I believed that was what marriage was. I didn't want to rock the boat. But I suppose in the end it just made me a chump. Because I wasn't getting that kind of treatment in return. He had the upper hand always, and every choice in our marriage had been made by him and him alone. The only think I'd ever done was decide to go back to school. Now I was going to have to give that up. Because James paid for it. Once the semester was over, I had to say goodbye to college once again. I shook my head at the irony. I'd wanted to better my life, find myself so to speak. Instead, I'd found Harry. Now the thing that had brought me to him would be no more.

But one thing was for certain. I wasn't going to give up Harry.

History was dull with the exception of a pop quiz. I'd almost fallen asleep by the end of class. Because I'd only made it just in time, I hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry beforehand. So as we walked out together, I told him I was leaving James. He listened intently as I gave him all the details of the night before.

"A week? Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath.

"I know," I sighed. "But I guess I can't really blame him. I wouldn't want someone who doesn't love me to live with me for another moment."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," I replied. "I just know I'll be busy packing and trying to avoid running into him. I texted Justine but she hasn't gotten back with me yet. I was hoping maybe I could talk her into letting me stay with her."

Harry nodded. I knew what he was thinking. And I wanted very badly to stay with him. But we both knew that wouldn't be the wisest choice right now.

He kissed me goodbye, and we separated. I dreaded going to the snack bar or library for fear of running into Liz or Leslie, but it was too cold to sit outside, so I resigned to sitting in the corner of the snack bar anyway. I got a cup of hot chocolate and a muffin and sat down to read. Fortunately, I saw no sign of the "mean girls", and before I knew it, it was time to walk to English class.

On the way home, I stopped by the grocery store to see if they had any empty boxes. Most of what they had had gotten wet from the rain, but I was able to get a few so I could go ahead and start packing. When I pulled into the driveway, I felt a sudden rush of sadness, knowing I would be leaving this place soon, forever. My life would be completely topsy-turvy. I'd be starting all over.

When I walked in the door and set down my book bag, I checked my phone once more for any possible messages from Justine. None. I decided to try her again, only this time calling instead of texting. I was disappointed to get her voicemail. I left her a message to please call me, it was very important. Then I hung up and dragged the empty boxes into my bedroom.

I turned on some music to distract my mind - a playlist I'd made of 70s female singers like Linda Ronstadt and Carly Simon, and I sang along while I packed. Because everything in this room was mine, I didn't feel that nostalgic about anything. It was mostly items such as books and magazines, DVDs, and clothes. When I got to my jewelry box, I was afraid I would feel some sort of pang in my chest from seeing my wedding ring. I hadn't worn it since that day Harry showed up at my door and we'd made love on my bed. That particular memory was the one that put a smile on my face. Not the ring nor what it signified. I picked it up out of the box and walked into James's office. I dropped in on his desk, next to his daily planner and mug full of pens.

When I returned to my room, Carly was singing about how nobody does it better. I sang with her, my arms open wide. "Baby, you're the best!"

I picked up my phone and quickly texted Harry, just to tell him I loved him. He replied within seconds, telling me he loved me too, and asking how I was. I told him I was fine. He had to work that night, so he said he'd call me when he got home.

When the clock showed after five, I almost got up to cook dinner. Then I laughed out loud, thinking how ludicrous that would be. I'd filled up all the boxes I'd brought home, making a mental note that I'd have to get some more tomorrow. Then I got in the car and drove to a drive-thru to pick up a burger and fries. I didn't really want to be there when James got home, so I pulled into a nearby park and ate in my car. The sun hadn't quite set yet, so I got out and walked around for a little while. The rain had subsided for the day, but the night was cool and crisp. I wrapped my coat tight around myself, watching the other people go by.

Finally when the sun had gone down, I drove back home. I expected to see James's car in the garage, but his spot was empty. I figured he probably didn't want to see me either and had decided to stay at work late. I retired to my room, got in my cozy pajamas, and crawled under the covers. I picked a movie from Netflix that I'd had in my queue for a while and never got around to watching. I wasn't really paying much attention to it as my mind was elsewhere, and eventually I fell asleep.

I awoke to the sound of someone in the kitchen. I gathered it was James, and he seemed to be deliberately trying to either wake me up or annoy me. A few minutes later, I heard his footsteps approach in the hallway, then the turn of my doorknob.

"Tisa," he whispered loudly. "Are you awake?"

"I am now," I muttered, perturbed.

Not taking the hint, James walked up to the bed and sat down next to me. Although I couldn't see him very well in the dark, he looked a little disheveled. He sighed and turned towards me.

"Tisa," he said with a cry in his voice. "I don't want a divorce."

"What?" I sat up and turned on my bedside lamp.

"You're my wife," he exclaimed. "You're supposed to be my wife forever. For better or worse. Whatever problems we have, we can work through them."

I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, all slumped over the side of the bed. For a moment I felt sorry for him. Perhaps I wasn't being fair to him. He had helped me when I needed someone. He had given me so much.

James suddenly leaned forward and kissed me. I noticed the smell of scotch on his breath. Reacting fast, I pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Kissing my wife," he replied. "I love you."

He reached for me again, but I stopped him. "No," I demanded. "Are you drunk?"

Without answering, he just stared at me. Then he shoved his hands underneath my shirt, causing me to pull back. His touch now gave me chills, and not in a good way.

"James!"

"Why can't I touch you?" he whined.

"Because I don't want you to!" I yelled.

"I bet you let your boyfriend touch you," James declared.

I glared at him incredulously. "What?"

"You heard me," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

He knew? How? Keeping my cool, I continued to stare at him, not giving in.

"He probably gets to touch you wherever he wants," said James. "Like here..." James reached for my chest, but I grabbed his wrist. "And here..."

Pointing down between my legs, James released himself from my grip and touched me. I growled at him as I tried to push myself back.

"Yeah, you like it, don't you? You like him to touch you there. Your little boy toy."

"Get out!" I screamed.

"C'mon Tisa, I still want to make this work. I forgive you."

"You forgive...," I shook my head. "Get the fuck out of my room!"

James stood up, swaying a bit. He was obviously inebriated. He raised his hands, displaying nine fingers. He double checked them before speaking.

"Nine more days, Tisa," he announced. "Nine days and you're gone."

"Fine with me!" I exclaimed. "I'll be out before then!"

He left the room without shutting the door, so I got up and slammed it. I was so livid, even more than I was afraid or curious about how he'd found out about Harry and me.

Harry.

I picked up my phone and texted him, knowing he'd be at work but I didn't care. I told him to call me ASAP. It was about another thirty minutes before my cell rang. I answered it hurriedly, eager to hear his voice.

"Baby," he greeted. "I'm so sorry, love, I couldn't call you sooner."

"It's okay," I answered. "I just had to talk to you. James knows."

"I know."

"What?"

Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly. "He was here."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so," Harry replied. "He came and sat at the bar with another man. I recognized him right away. I poured their drinks and then Grayson called my name. Your husband looked up and said, 'Oh, so you're the infamous Harry.'"

"Oh no," I breathed. "What did you do?"

"I acted like I didn't know who he was. I held out my hand to shake his and said, 'Yes, my name's Harry, and you are?' He looked me up and down for a minute then introduced himself as your husband."

"Oh, God," I grimaced.

"Grayson about shit himself. Because he didn't know you were married, see."

"Right."

"I had to keep it cool, and kept giving Grayson the eye to keep quiet, letting him know I'd fill him in later. Anyway, I definitely got the vibe that he already knew."

"Jesus Christ," I groaned.

"So after a couple of drinks, some other man came and the three of them got a table. I didn't see him after that and the bar got busy. I just now got a break. But I explained to Grayson the situation. And check this out."

"What?" I asked.

"Grayson said he's seen him in here before, during lunch hours," Harry stated. "Sometimes with one of those men, sometimes with a woman."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm not sure what that means. They could be colleagues or clients I suppose."

"Yeah, I suppose," I echoed.

"So I take it he's home now," said Harry.

"Ugh, yes. He's drunk. He came in my room crying at first, then he wanted to touch me."

"What the fuck?"

"I know," I agreed. "I pushed him away, and he said he bets I let my boyfriend touch me."

"Did you kick the shit out of him?" Harry asked.

"No," I chuckled at the image of me kicking the shit out of anyone. "I told him to get out. He reminded me he wants me out of the house. So I need to find a place as soon as possible."

"Well I guess since he knows, you can just come stay with me," he offered.

"I..."

"Tisa, I won't make you if you don't want to," said Harry. "But I would love that more than anything."

"What about Zack?"

"Zack wouldn't have a problem with it. Penny's practically living there now anyway. Or he's at her place."

I bit my lip. "I'll think about it."

"Alright, love," he cooed. "Try to get some sleep okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you," he said before he hung up.

"I love you too, Harry."

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK