#been thinking too much about men this year already

[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. kim mingyu x reader ⇢ summary. snapshots from your kitchen over the years -- with mingyu. ⇢ genre. fluff, strangers2friends2lovers ⇢ warnings. wc is approx. 1.6k; alcohol consumption; each section is set one year after the previous; gn!reader.

march 8th, 2021

“There you are! Hi!” You call out as you sail past the tall figure standing in your kitchen. You move quickly between the oven, the fridge, the microwave, the work surface, your eyes flitting back to him as you talk. “Mingyu, right? I’m sorry, I know this is our first time meeting but everything’s — ”

“A mess,” Seungkwan offers helpfully from behind Mingyu. Which reminds him that the world keeps spinning, even if he does fall in love the very first time he meets his friends’ friend. Everyone talked about you, but yo'd never crossed paths with him — until now. In the middle of your kitchen, with butterflies swarming his stomach.

You click your tongue and point at Seungkwan with one hand, balancing a bowl of salad with the other. “Exactly. Put this on the table, Kwan.” 

As Seungkwan takes it from you, Mingyu stands awkwardly by the door, following your movements with his eyes, until you suddenly halt in the middle of the kitchen, throwing your hands up. “Okay. Done.” You meet his eyes with a breathless smile, and suddenly he’s breathless too, without even moving an inch. “Sorry,” you say unrepentantly. “I’m ___. But hopefully you know that already, and you didn’t just agree to come to a stranger’s house.”

Mingyu’s too dumbfounded to reply quickly, completely and utterly taken in. Bewitched, almost, staring at your open, cheerful face. “Hi,” he manages at last, and then rubs his nose awkwardly. “You have a little…”

Unfazed, you rub at your nose and examine your fingers. “Flour,” you nod, “from the — fuck, from the cookies!”

You whip round to the oven; simultaneously, the doorbell rings, and you cast an apologetic look over your shoulder, nodding to the front door. “I’m so sorry, do you mind?”

Not at all, Mingyu’s mind supplies. He’s pretty sure he’d run seven miles without stopping if you asked him to right now, but that’s neither here nor there. When he opens the door, it’s Jeonghan and Seungcheol, who both take one look at his dazed self — Seungcheol sighs, and Jeonghan laughs.

“You owe me a twenty,” Jeonghan says to Seungcheol, and lets himself in, calling out to you in the kitchen. 

Seungcheol claps a still-stupefied Mingyu on the back with a sympathetic grimace. “We all saw it coming.”

august 4th, 2022

“There you are!” you call, as Mingyu returns from the bathroom. “I’ve been thinking. You know what I’ve been thinking?” You’re veering out of tipsy territory, heading straight for drunk — Mingyu knows because you’re starting to slur your words, tilting one into the next as you slap your palm emphatically from where you’re sitting, cross-legged on the work surface of your kitchen. 

He, on the other hand, is barely even buzzed. Slightly amused, very much fond, he leans against the counter opposite you and sips his drink. “Enlighten me, wise one.”

You stick a profound finger into the air, and with an air of sagacious intelligence — “Men aren’t shit.” 

Mingyu almost snorts into his drink, but manages to catch himself at the last minute. After all, he already knew why he was here; you were mourning your dating life after dumping your recent match on whichever dating app; it wasn’t anything too serious, but as your friend — maybe even best friend — he knew you’d been hopeful. And so you’d called him up to, quote unquote, drink away your sorrows. 

He’d come, of course. Mingyu always came when you called.

“Men aren’t shit,” he repeats now, with an obedient nod, and raises his glass. 

Your head tilts to the side and you bestow a wide smile on him; he mirrors it automatically, even if he doesn’t know what it’s for.

“Not you, though,” you say, without your previous bluster. “Every rule has an exception, right?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to brush over it. He always finds himself doing that when you compliment him, skimming past it because he knows you mean it, but not in the way he wants you to mean it. “Don’t worry about it too much,” he adds consolingly, circling back to the guy you were seeing. Jaehee or Jaehyun or whatever. “He’s not worth your stress, alright?”

Your buoyant mood has simmered down a little, and you stare thoughtfully at a spot by his ear. “Mm. I guess so.”

“I know so.” Mingyu inclines his head to the side to catch your gaze, and with a start, he realises your eyes are welling up. “Hey! Hey, don’t cry!” He crosses the room in a second, wrapping you into a hug — you’re still sitting on the counter, but you drop your head onto his shoulder with a weak little sniffle.

Bringing a hand up to cradle your head, Mingyu hushes you quietly. “Don’t cry over him. He’s not worth it, you know that.”

“It’s not him,” you say tearfully, hiccuping into his shirt. “I just — I really want to be in love, Mingyu. I want someone to love me.”

Mingyu has to fight the urge to scream. Because he wants to scream, wants to make you hear how loudly he’s been loving you since he met you, wants to make you see that he’s right here. But he can’t do that to you right now. The timing isn't right, and he knows it’s not.

So he’ll wait. However long it takes.

september 24th, 2023

“There you are,” Mingyu says to the back of your figure, after letting himself into your apartment. The spare key was technically only for emergencies, but he rang the bell twice before figuring you were in the shower, and the snacks he brought were too heavy to hold on to for much longer. “I rang and you didn’t answer!”

You whip round like a gunshot, looking startled — as if you didn’t invite him over this very morning. “You’re here!”

“I rang twice,” he repeats, with furrowed brows. “What?” he says, self-consciously. “I know the key was only for emergencies, but my hands were falling off!” 

It’s like you only realise now that he’s loaded with two grocery bags. “Oh,” you say, voice small. “What are those?”

“Snacks. For the movie?” Your face remains blank, and Mingyu’s more confused than ever. “I got your favourites, don’t worry.”

“I didn’t ask you to bring snacks.” Your voice isn’t accusative, exactly — it wavers a little, bordering on touched. Which only confuses Mingyu more, because it’s just snacks.

Foregoing his questions, he moves to dump the bags on the counter — but you mirror his movements, sidestepping so awkwardly that he knows something’s off.

“What are you hiding?” He’s on you instantly, because your eyes always betray you.

And if they didn’t, your voice would. “Nothing!” Pitched a little too high, spoken a little too fast.

 “Behind you, what’s that?” Mingyu almost makes a dive for it, but you snatch it up before he can. “Flowers,” he realises aloud, heart sinking a little as he tries to force nonchalance into his tone. “They’re pretty.” (They’re his favourite too, which only rubs salt in the wound.) “Who got them for you?”

“I got them.” Your voice is still doing that squeaky, nervous thing, but Mingyu feels a sudden rush of relief that he tries his hardest to disguise at your words. 

He hums, feigning normalcy, and starts unloading the snacks. “This one’s limited edition,” he says, holding up a Pocky packet. “It looks kind of — whoa!”

His sentence is cut off when you thrust the bouquet under his nose. “For you,” you say quickly. I got them for you.”

Just like he was in this very kitchen two years ago, Mingyu’s breathless. He takes them on autopilot — everything’s on autopilot, even his bewildered, “What?”

“Turn around,” you say with beseeching eyes. “I’m too scared to say it to your face.”

“Say what?”

“Turn around!”

He turns around, and he waits. He can feel the nerves radiating off you. He hears you shift your weight from one foot to the other. He swears he even hears you swallow thickly. Louder than all of that, he looks at his favourite flowers and hears himself start to hope.

And then, cutting through all the noise — “I love you, Kim Mingyu.”

december 22nd, 2024

“There you are,” you say sleepily, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. You’d taken an impromptu nap on Mingyu’s lap while he was gaming in your room, but when his stomach had started rumbling, he’d carefully draped a blanket over your shoulders and edged his way out to start on dinner.

“Here I am,” Mingyu says, smiling at you from the stove. He lifts the spoon and beckons you closer, feeding you the soup. “How is it?”

Rubbing one eye, you speak through a yawn. “‘S good.” You slide your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face into his back. Your words come out muffled. “Maybe a little more salt. Why’d you leave me?”

Mingyu can’t help the smile stretching over his face. “Leave you?”

“I woke up alone,” you say sulkily, but you don’t let go of him, even as he shuffles from cupboard to cupboard.

“I thought you’d be hungry when you woke up,” he murmurs, adding a pinch of salt and stirring. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Very hungry.” He lifts the spoon for you to taste it again, and you let out a satisfied sigh. “You’re forgiven,” you declare, kissing his cheek. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mingyu lowers his free hand to squeeze yours, interlocked over his stomach, before turning you in his arms to face you properly. He smiles when he finds your eyes, finally, cupping your warm face in his warm hands. “Ah,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your lips. “There you are.”

author's note! since it's my birthday -- it's like a gift of appreciation! thank you all for being here. i know i don't usually make banners for drabbles, but this picture is what sparked the idea in the first place. and it was fun! i might do it again. (<- has already done it for the v-day drabble.)

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[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

She folded her hands to hide their shaking. "You can't marry a man you just met," she said. She kept her voice cold, her eyes icy.

The prince didn't flinch. In fact, he even offered a sardonic smile. He had Anna on his arm, the favor of the cabinet, and the love of the kingdom. The queen was merely a pest to squash.

Elsa couldn't breathe as the tension in the room turned sharp. The prince's invisible sword against her throat.

"You can if it's true love!" Anna said.

True love?

Anna knew nothing of it. She knew nothing of the Southern Isles, nothing of the man at her side.

Elsa hadn’t extended an invitation to their kingdom. Of course, though, they’d sent someone anyway. She couldn’t exactly tell them no without confirming what they already knew.

Ladies in long dresses and men in decorated coats spun around them, as though there was nothing wrong at all in the room. Bright music echoed through the ballroom. A steward offered Elsa a flute of some sort of drink.

Bile burned at her throat. She didn't take the flute. This was a game. Perhaps everything in this room was a game, set up by Prince Hans to reveal everything.

He had to know. His kingdom must have briefed him. Why else would he take advantage of her sister? He played the part well, but the coolness of his eyes was what gave him away. Barely noticeable to anyone else, but Elsa had grown skilled in reading people.

He didn't love Anna. He loved the idea of taking the throne and combining their kingdoms into one. He'd have control of the fjords, and that meant control of major trade routes and other kingdoms. He'd have control of Elsa.

His family had already staged the death of her parents. Why not use this chance--the first one in years--to take what they'd been after all this time?

The royal family of the Southern Isles knew of her magic. They'd been waiting for this opportunity since Iduna and Agnarr had died so conveniently in that shipwreck.

So why not send their youngest assassin now? He’d be reckless, perhaps, but he’d also be ruthless. Unyielding.

That’s what scared Elsa the most.

"Anna, what do you know of true love?" she asked softly.

"More than you." Anna stepped back, her cheeks flushing the way they always did when she was upset. "All you know is how to shut people out!"

A few dancers glanced their way.

"You asked for my blessing, and my answer is no. Now,” she steadied her emotions, “excuse me."

“Your Majesty, if I may—” An arm caught hers. His voice tremored slightly. The perfect anxious lover.

Her blood went colder than it already was. “No, you may not. I think you should go.”

A veiled warning, but a warning nonetheless. If he didn’t take it, then it was up to her to decide if she wished to engage him.

He didn’t say a word.

“The party is over, close the gates.”

“Elsa, no, no, wait—” Anna’s voice, her hand on Elsa’s. She turned to admonish her, and her glove came off in her sister’s hand.

Her breath stopped. She tucked her hand behind her, beneath her cloak, nails digging into flesh. If she created even a single snowflake, this carefully crafted illusion would come crashing down. “Give me my glove.”

“Elsa, please. Please.” She clutched the glove between pleading hands. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

Her face began to crumple, and tension’s sword was digging into Elsa’s throat as more eyes fixed on the display in the center of the ballroom.

Shut everything out. That’s how she kept things under control. Shut her sister out, and that would protect the both of them. Anna would forget about Hans.

“Then leave.” The facade of indifference began to collapse inside of her as she moved towards the door. Anna stepped back, eyes wide.

“What did I ever do to you?” she snapped.

“Enough, Anna.”

The music had stopped. Everyone was watching now. Too many eyes, too much expectation, too much fear—

“No, why? Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?!”

“I said, enough!” Elsa spun. Anna didn’t know. She didn’t know of the magic, she didn’t know of the pressure, she didn’t know of the prince’s true intentions. If she was so set on naïveté, then—

“Sorcery.”

The sword finally stabbed, blade deep in her chest when the room came back into focus.

Sharp, dangerous icicles—a cage and a defense against those around her. Deadly tips preparing to cut into anyone who dared approach.

Because of her.

Prince Hans caught her eye, approval flashing across his face.

She choked.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t—she couldn’t even think. She shoved the doors open, instead, and ran from it all. Protect Arendelle by protecting it from herself.

Shut everything out, and nothing bad can happen. Conceal it.

Let Hans come after her, and leave Arendelle and her sister alone.

That’s what needed to happen.

You are the elder sibling of the Hero. They want your blessing to marry the Villain they originally set out to destroy; now sitting across from you at the same table.

[baambied]

𓎤𓍯𓂃 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝑨 𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑺𝑬, 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑨 𝑪𝑶𝑾𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 !

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

cw nsfw (at end) cursing sevika is intimidati reader is clumsy oral(reader rec) riding strap(reader) dirty talk reader described to have kinky curls

cowboy!sevika ✗ bartender!reader

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has on all the proper - and cliche cowboy western clothes. . . her blue denim jeans hugging her tight, muscular thighs (and ass) those big chunky belts with a lasso hanging on the side of it . . scruffy cowboy boots and, of course, her signature brown cowboy hat sitting on her head - but her best look had to be when she's working on the field on her farm, a thin tank top on her muscular build, sweat dripping down her skin as the hot sun beamed down on her - she could feel the burning eyes of the women who walked by. . . sevika, being the flirt she is, would turn to them with a cocky like smirk on her face saying, "y' like what you see darlin' ?"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has a deep southern accent - her already husky , deep voice coming off as 10x charming when she spoke - hearing a thick southern drawl.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who's absolutely great with animals - owns about 4 horses that she cares deeply for, cleaning there stable every week , making sure they have fresh hay . . . her main horse is named Big Dice (which correlates to her love of gambling) she got the horse when she was only 17 years old, and the now mare horse had been her best pal ever since.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is also the intimidating sheriff in her town, inheriting the big role after her father retired about 9 years ago. . . intimidating not only due to her hard demeanor but the amount of crimes and bandits she caught around the area for the past years. You thinking about stealing from the farm market? to bad sevika already as you in cuffs . . thinking about stealing from the old little southern lady who sells eggs every tuesday? too late, sevika already has you behind bars.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who isn't only well known for her family name and being the sherif . . .but also by being a huge flirt with the women - she was well known for having a way with the lady's and some men in town couldn't help but be envious at that fact how sevika barely tried anything and had women falling at her boots.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who says she just aint ready to be tied down just yet, she liked the way her life was already - or she was just used to it. . . there was no woman that had that much power to turn her head and get her to start thinking about marriage and babies.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ -who is the bull riding champion in her town - with her good flexibility , coordination, and quick reflexes , no one can stand a chance against her. . . even though bull riding was dangerous, she liked the adrenaline rush of it, the cheers of her name, and showing how much courage she has , not everyone would willingly ride a bull.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who gives free horse riding lessons to the kids around town.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has a back tattoo that says "born to ride" with designs that go down her arms, got it without her parents knowing when she was just 18 years old.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is an absolute gentleman (or gentlewoman) , so amazingly patient, great listener , and if she's at a bar with a woman she's the one who offers to pay (not even offering just immediately throwing money down or saying "naw - you aint gotta pay honey - put it on my tab sugar" ) no matter how intimidating she may look she's actually a kind, selfless , considerate the list goes on and on - (to women atleast) she truly is the picture perfect partner . .

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who likes to wear those slutty shirts that aren't to cropped but just the right length to show off her v line , showing off her nice figure and small waist.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who goes to the bar in her town every friday night - where she has free time , sipping on a jug of beer while playing a game of cards with her close pals.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who can actually bake very well, has a book filled with her old family recipes that go years back - like pecan pies , peach cobbler, different types of cakes, and breads. . . and she has a major sweet tooth.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who has a scar on the right side of her cheek due to falling off her horse roughly while chasing a herd of coyotes away. Slightly insecure because of it , any time a woman would ask about it , or even reach to touch it out of pure curiosity her mood immediately decreased - getting uncomfortable with the sudden attention on her scarred cheek.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is the definition of a 'sweet talker' . . this woman knows all the right things to say, all the right moves to do that would make a anyone shudder under one simple touch. . .or her simple gaze.

"what's a pretty little lady like you doin' all alone here?" the sudden deep, velvet smooth southern voice entered the woman's ears - she was sitting at the bar alone while swirling a plastic straw in her sweet non alcoholic drink, boredom shown on her body as she sat there quietly.

but the sudden voice entering her ears made her startled , wipping her head around her eyes were meant by the sight of the town sheriff - sevika.

her cheeks couldn't help but grow pink at the sight of the well beloved woman of the town, here with her signature brown, scruff cowboy hat, piercing silver eyes staring at her with an intense gaze as her lips held a lit blunt between them - - the most recognizable figure in the town . . . her commanding strong presence seen from miles away.

"cat got ya' tongue sugar?" sevika voice heard once more - this time with a shit - eating grin on her lips.

the woman blinked for a moment and slowly shook her head. "n-no . . just surprised, is all"

"my i ask why that is?" sevika gruff voice asked as she took a seat next to the woman at the bar, blunt hanging loosly from her lips as she blew out smoke, creating a cloud of smoke in front of her.

"to be talkin' to you, that's all - never talked to the sheriff before" the woman responds with a soft laugh, sevika couldn't help but laugh at her sentence and tone "I'm waitin' on someone.." the woman responded sheepishly.

"husband?" the tall muscular sheriff questioned,"left you at a crowded bar? all alone . . . .well, that's just no good... no good at all. . ."

"h- he's not my husband jus' someone I've been. . . foolin' round with, " the woman responded before downing the rest of her drink as if it was a shot - sevika couldn't help but chuckle at her actions.

after a moment of a small silence, the woman hopped up out of her stool, clearing her throat and swallowing thickly when she heard sevika's voice once more.

"gon' go and leave me like this doll? i was just about to buy you a drink. . ." sevika's sentence coming out as smooth as silk satin sheets, like she's said this same sentence plenty of times in her life.

"i- i no!- you can buy me a drink , i don't mind none. ." the woman stuttered out with pink cheeks.

"i see you don't drink, no alcohol? the non-alcoalic options here aren't that good doll. . . i have better at my own home. ."

next thing that woman knew she was in sevika's dark red sheets, doing unholy acts she never thought in her lifetime she'd do - especially with a woman but she didn't mind. . . her mind not once thinking of the man named Billy, who walked in the bar with his big brown eyes looking around for her.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is an absolute green thumb, if she ain't cleaning or taking care of her beloved animals on her farm, she's growing plants - usually containing different varieties of vegetables.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - has a red / slightly dirty due to constantly being in the field and dirt pickup truck truck.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is currently playing cards with her pals, on a late friday night , and of course, she's the one winning like always . . . to lost in the game, not noticing the tumbling figure coming near her.

one moment her pants were dry , and the next they were soaking wet - and no, not in that way. . . the silence in the bar was quite evident as the only sound being heard was a tray and a few glasses dropping the floor.

sevika's blue denim jeans were now soaked in beer, the smell making it ways in her nose as she let out a seething sigh - her good mood ruined in an instant, she doesn't look at the server who happen to drop the tray as she slowly stood up, dropping her cards on the table. . . her friends looking up at her wide eyes filled with nervousness, knowing sevika has a short temper..

sevika turned her gaze to spilled beer on the wooden floor. She could hear the whispers coming from people nearby at other tables, finally her gaze meeting the person who caused this. . . and suddenly, her gaze, which was once intense and piercing suddenly softened - ever so slightly. . . with a slight wave of curiosity.

her eyes staring at the young woman who also fell with the tray in her hands. . . .you.

her gaze now so sharp and penestrating, burning holes through your figure almost trying to find out who you were or even examine - you didn't look like you've ever stepped foot in texas and yet . . here you are.

you, on the other hand, looked up at the tall , buff women with stunned wide eyes. . . the intensity of her stare made you feel both mesmerized and to be completely intimidated, but she was genuinely one of the most beautiful people who've ever seen in your whole lifetime. . .her tight, slightly short shirt showing off her v line, the brown cowboy hat sitting up on her head as her hair was tied back, and her tight denim jeans that wrapped around her thighs like they were made for her - oh....oh! there wet?? why are they..

"Oh! oh no!" you exclaimed, slowly realizing the situation."It looks like you peed your pants!" Your sentence slipping its way through your lips before your brain could process it.

murmurs from people around you caught your attention, slightly glancing around. You could feel the embarrassment slowly sinking in your body - but you weren't the only one, sevika silently gritting her teeth at your sentence as she averted her stare, feeling embarrassed by the whole situation. . . by now. . . usually she'd snap, telling someone off but. . . she'd never speak to a woman like that. . .especially one that looked as gorgeous as you.

"i-im sorry! i didn't mean to say that - i mean, i did, but in my head, y'know? I'm sorry, i really am! i told my parents to not let me serve- i can't believe this. ." you rambled as you quickly stood up from the floor, but nervous gaze still staring at the wooden floor covered in beer, fidgeting with your fingers due to nervousness, unnoticeably to you the tall woman was already out the door.

"and! uhhh. . . i can get you new pants if you'd like. . . just. . . my size probably won't fit you, you seem really tall-" your sentence came to halt as you grew the confidence to look up at the buff woman only to be meant with, absolutely nobody.."oh..? uh?"

your head twist around in all directions "did she- leave?"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who wakes up with a soft knock on her front door, going to answer it, her straight face mourning to a short shocked one for a split moment , what were you doing at her door?

sevika stared at you, observing you intently . . . your pretty kinky curls in a high bun, she liked how the strands fell framing your face. . the pretty yellow sun dress hugging your figure and in your hands was a box filled with 8 jars of milk.

"hello, would you like fresh milk from the - uh cows." Your eyes stared at the floor as your sentence came out dramatically and drained.

"i have my own cows. ." sevika answered with slight amusement. . you looked up in curiosity and immediately your eyes go wide "you!. ." You exclaim, holding a pointer finger, only letting out a tiny squeel as the box of milk nearly fell from your hands.

"You were the one that disappeared last night!"

sevika silently stared at you, she couldn't help the slight smirk tugging on her face. . .she couldn't help but think you're absolutely and pretty as a peach - genuinely a real looker, and the simple fact she now realized you has no accent - you sounded that maybe you were from . . the city. . New York?

"can you - buy my milk please?" Your question coming out more desperately than you expected.

"Your. . . milk?" sevika questioned your wording with small smirk... "Why would i do that after the incident you caused last night?"

you gulped thickly at her, not just at her sentence but voice in general. . . .the deep southern drawl in her husky gruff voice nearly made your knees falter.

"-please? I've been walking for 20 minutes, and no one wants milk.."

sevika scoffed "20 minutes? darlin' . . .the original milk seller walks these streets for hours, and you - little sweet thing is done after 20 minutes?"

you couldn't help but suck your teeth at her words, looking to the side for a bit with a small pout on your plump lips.

"it's too hot! the sun is beaming and my throat is dry- oh! do you have some iced tea? since you won't buy my milk you can atleast offer me a drink."

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who declines at first, but finally let's you in her home for a glass of lemon iced tea after your dramatic begging - she has never meant anyone as dramatic and almost theatrical as you.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who watches as you happily sip on the iced teas through a plastic straw, sitting in a wooden stool in her kitchen and my god you just wouldn't stop talking - were you genuinely this curious?

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who's interest perks up when you ask if she has horses. .

"Hey, wait - you're a cowgirl, right? do you have a horse?"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - sevika who's intense gaze stared at you as you pet her horse with excitement - her eyes hiding an unspoken and unfamiliar emotion. . . she had never had another woman interested in her animals on the farm , most women in the town were far to "prissy" to want to ride horses and anything of the sort. . . so it came to a supirse when you - who had told her you were from the city , petting her horse with such excitement.

"wow! she's gorgeous, her colors and spots are so unique! I've never seen a horse in real life. This is so awesome. .I've always wanted to learn how to ride. ."

sevika's eyebrow perked up at your words "you wanna ride?"

you swiftly turn to her and nod with a smile, hands still in the horses hair.

sevika nodded, her next words coming out husky and deep almost as if it had a double meaning. ."i can teach you how to ride. . .darlin' "

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who spends her next few weeks with you, propping you carefully and safely on one of her horses with a saddle. . . .teaching you how to ride. The process started slow at first, it was hard for you since you genuinely had no experience with anything like this - but you always had so much fun especially with sevika who's flirty words never failed to make you all warm and squirmy.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who slowly learned more and more about you as the weeks go by, and you learning more about her. . you couldn't imagine the shock you felt when she revealed she was actually the sheriff of the town, immediately thinking to the night you spilled beer on her pants you couldn't help but apologize to her once more.

"sheriff! you!?. . . i spilled a beer all over a sheriff? I'm so sorry!"

"it ain't nothin' to worry about sugar. .i forgive you, " her voice came out in a teasing manner.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is now confused about how her chest gets warm whenever she'd see you laugh, how she'd automatically smile whenever she saw you smile, the sudden feeling hitting her like a ton of bricks when she realized that she wanted to spend more time with you - that didn't just consist of just teaching you how to ride her horse, but . . . . more.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who doesn't even realize how she is automatically turning down any woman that would came up to her.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who is sitting on a comfty leather couch with a glass of whiskey in her hand, the high picked up music in her ears as the sound of people shoes moved around the wooden floor - it was the town annual rodeo a lively time for the people in town, singing, dancing, good grilled foods. . . the annual bull riding contest had just ended, and now everyone was together in the biggest bar in town - sevika ofcourse winning and celebrating her victory with alcohol and a game of cards.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who feels her heart skip a beat when her eyes catches your figure across the room - huge smile on your face as you chatted it up with some other ladies - she felt as if she was being drawn to you, like a magnet . . . your whole existence suddenly making her life more warm, and softer...

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who feels her feet moving in their own, striding across the floor, moving around the dancing people - she felt like it took centuries to finally reach you. . . you suddenly stopping mid conversation with the sweet woman beside you, your eyes lighting up immediately at the sight of the towns sheriff.

"sevika! i was tryna find you everywhere - i saw you riding on that bull that was so cool. . something I've never seen before in my whole lifetime - ohh?.." your sentence coming to a halt when you feel a soft thump on top of your head.

suddenly, cheers could be heard all around you people wooping and hollering, even the women around you squealing in excitement.

sevika had just put her cowboy hat on your head, in a swift motion - her larger hand now holding out to you waiting foe you to take it. . . your wide eyes staring at her in shock - before you came to the south you've heard of things like this . . .the gesture that seemed small meant so much more , her putting her hat on you was meant or considered a flirty gesture or signifying that she had intrest in you- or in other words. . .

she was "claiming" you by letting you wear something so personal to her.

"claiming" you for the night..

and no matter how many women sevika has been with , not one has been given the honor to wear her hat. . . . all except you.

"can i get a dance sugar?"

slowly, you nod as you bring your hand in hers, her hand gently wrapping around yours with ease.

"atta girl. ."

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - is so fucking experience when it comes to sex, she knows all the right ways to touch you , all of your sensitive spots , and knows just what to do to get you off. . .when you ask her how shes so good at this. . she just answers with "cowgirls fuck better"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - her favorite position is either between your legs, or you moving up and down on her strap - riding her to get or self off without sevikas help. . . . she eats your pussy as if it's her last meal on earth, as if you'd disappear from her at any moment. . and she's so fucking messy with it, her gray eyes droopy as she keeps eye contact and head moving side to side as her pink muscles lays flat on your wet cunt.

"a-ah! p-please. . ." Your hips shake under sevika's movement, you taking everything in yourself to not break eye contact with her - she says if you do, she'd immediately stop.

"hmmmm so sweet mama. ." sevika hummed against your cunt, her half lidded eyes staring up at you with a glint in them - as if she was waiting for you to break. . . her pink muscle flicking your clit in a fast pace, the sudden action making you head tilt back.

"so- so good! ahhh. ." You whine out with your hips rolling up for more friction - you let out a cry as you felt a harsh slap on the side of your thigh, the feeling on your cunt going away as you shudder feeling the cold wind hit your wet sensitive cunt - she pulled away.

"I'm sorry. . .please. ."

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - She loves spanking, especially when you're reverse cowgirl, watching as you bounce on her thick, veiny strap while a blunt hands loosley from her lips, her large hand constantly slapping your ass causing you to whine everytime at the harsh contact.

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - loves dirty talk , when she has you in doggy style she'd lean down to you ear whispering how good your taking her from behind - and how much of a mess youre making on her sheets. . all while calling you those little sweet pet names that you swoon over "darlin' " "sugar" "sweet thing"

𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 ℧ - who loves worshipping your body - she knows how to appreciate such gorgeous and beautiful things. . . kissing you, you down your body, saying how gorgeous and pretty you are, and how she can't wait to have you moaning her name.

cowboy!sevikadrabble +18

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 20

Warning: Mentions of Ghost’s traumatic background + he’s a big fat tease

Summary: Consider this a valentines present from me to you 😙

ao3 link

Fortunately for you, Ghost didn’t spend the whole day at your apartment. You didn’t think you would have been able to handle him interfering with your usual hungover plans; he’d been quite insistent that you not go back to bed and try to stay awake and stay hydrated. Of course, as soon as he’d left to go to the pub with his mates, you’d slunk back to bed, turning all the lights off and hiding under the covers from the relentless sun, only coming out to drink your smoothies.

Shockingly, you recovered a lot faster than you usually did, so you threw yourself into the shower, steaming what alcohol remained out of your body and doing your best to scrub the shame and sweat of last night off of your skin. The sweat came off easily, but the shame didn’t; it was only masked with the smell of vanilla, paired with after-tones of regret. Ugh. You’d thrown up in front of Ghost. That was not exactly the kind of vibe you wanted to put out. At least you’d seen what kind of man he was; a good one. Still, you would have liked to have put that revelation off for a few months at least so you could at least pretend you were all glamorous all the time.

You hadn’t intended to fall asleep immediately, only meaning to lounge in bed in your pyjamas for a few minutes, but the moment you decided to just huddle under the duvet was your downfall, your quest for a little more warmth sending you straight to sleep.

That was how Ghost found you, several hours later, curled up under your duvet, still wearing his T-shirt, Soap sleeping by your head, and Roach by your feet.

Of course, he didn’t appreciate how comfy you were.

“Rise and shine!”

At least he didn’t pull the duvet off this time. You grumbled at him, “What time is it?”

“Six.”

“Six?”

Christ, you really had slept in. Yet you still felt like you had barely gotten any sleep. You ran a hand through your hair, groaning, “Don’t make me get up.”

Ghost walked over to your side of the bed, “You know I’m gonna.”

“Alright, alright! But I’m not moving from the sofa after that.”

Surprisingly enough, Ghost didn’t run you ragged; he actually let you curl up on the sofa wrapped in your duvet, attending to your every need, which for the most part was just cups of tea, and him getting up to get the curry when it arrived. You quite liked Simon the servant; not only was he obedient, but he was nice to look at, pleasant to listen to, and the occasional touches he gave, fingers brushing across your cheek or shoulder, were delightful. It was tempting to see how much you could get away with, but you decided not to push your luck. Well, not until after he’d finished the washing up.

When he returned from the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, hands still slightly damp and red from the hot water; you had sprawled yourself across the entire length of the sofa, a very low-energy trick to force him to touch you. By God, you were going to get some affection out of that man. He raised a brow at you, gesturing toward your body, “Shift.”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t we already play this game this morning? You lost. You will lose again.”

“Mm, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Suit yourself.”

You hadn’t quite expected him to grab your ankles again and yank you down the sofa so there was space for him to sit at the opposite end. Perhaps you’d seen too many romcoms with more delicate men in them who would sweep you up into their arms. British men didn’t really exist like they did in the films. Fifteen years of dating had proved that.

You straightened up from where he’d unceremoniously dumped you, shifting over to the middle seat, resting your elbow on the back of the sofa as you looked at him. He paused in his flicking through films on your TV, raising a brow at you, “There something you want, love?”

You tilted your head at him, “You’re not very cuddly, are you?”

He snorted, “Army doesn’t teach us to be cuddly, darlin’.”

“I’m not the army though, am I?”

He looked at you a little suspiciously, “That what we’re doin’ tonight? You tryna psychoanalyse me?”

“I’m just curious why that is.”

Ghost sighed, running a hand over his buzzed head, something you’d started to realise he did whenever he felt uneasy, “Look. I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten, burned alive, and hung from meat hooks. I could tell you stories that would stop you from sleeping for weeks, and you’ll get your answers for why I’m not very touchy-feely. Or, we could watch a film. What do you want to do?”

You figured there had been something behind the distance he always put between you, but Jesus fuck. Hung from meat hooks? Even in a military situation, you couldn’t imagine that happening. The man had been tortured. You swallowed nervously, your voice small, “I’d like to watch a film.”

How you were supposed to relax and watch a film now was beyond you; you could feel the tension radiating out from Ghost, the stiff way he sat, the way his jaw was clenched, his hand balled into a fist on his thigh, the other clenching the remote so hard you were surprised it didn’t break. After a moment, he placed the remote down on the sofa, his voice very controlled as he got up,

“I’m going t’ shops.”

It was as though you could see the anger rippling off him in waves, so you said nothing, just watching quietly as he put his shoes on and walked out your front door, closing it quietly, every movement measured and controlled.

You were beginning to question whether he was ever planning on returning; big Tescos was only a five-minute walk down the road, and he’d been gone for forty-five minutes at this point. Maybe you’d pushed him too far. There wasn’t any amount of doomscrolling you could do that would take your mind off of what he’d said to you, the sequence of words rolling around in your head. You really didn’t know anything about the man you’d been sharing your bed with. Most of all, you couldn’t fathom how he was still alive and functioning.

Ghost returned after a full hour away, and the bags under his eyes seemed heavier. Even from a distance, you could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes, Christ alive, it smelt like he’d been through a whole pack. You didn’t say a word, just watching silently as he walked over to you, the shopping bag in his hand clinking with the sound of bottles as he took a seat next to you on the sofa, resting his forearms on his thighs and staring at the floor. He was quiet for a moment, before speaking in a low, tired voice, “Just don’t wanna talk about my past or my psyche, alright? Already know I’m fucked in the head. Don’t need you looking at me like I’m broken.”

Shit, he’d called you out there. Already, your brain had been going into overdrive, seeing him as a lost, broken man, trying to figure out how you could save him, fix him. But his problems weren’t yours to fix. You chewed on your lip, trying to figure out the right words to say. Yeah, there were no right words for this situation; it was beyond unusual. So, you did what British people did best and glossed over it.

“Wanna watch Hot Fuzz?”

He looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes searching. After a second, his face smoothed, and he reclined back into his seat, taking a beer out of the already opened six-pack in his bag, “Yeah, go on then.”

You didn’t say anything as you settled into your corner of the sofa, your knees tucked up underneath you, a pillow held tightly in your lap, eyes firmly glued on the screen. There was still a heavy feeling in the air, cold and joyless, having broken the bright little bubble you’d been enjoying. You didn’t even want to look at Ghost, too anxious that he’d see the concern in your eyes, the worry that you couldn’t rid yourself of.

“Come here.”

You risked glancing over at him, seeing him looking over at you, eyes tired, but one arm stretched out, beckoning you over to him. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, but you did as you were told, dropping the pillow and shifting over on the sofa toward him until your legs were touching his, still feeling a little unsure about how much contact he would allow. He leant forward to place his beer on the floor, then placed his hands on your waist to lift you up, plonking you down in his lap. He grabbed his beer again, then leant back against the sofa, his arm curling around your body to pull you with him, gently crushing you against his chest. You were still for a second, unsure, but you let yourself relax into his grip, resting your head against his chest, hearing the soft, steady beat of his heart underneath his jumper. His fingers trailed over your bare arm, stroking up and down, and he rested his chin atop your head. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it someday, love. Just not today, alright?”

You nodded, and Ghost shifted so he could look down at you, using the neck of his beer to push your chin up so you were looking straight at him. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?” You swallowed nervously, “Honestly? I’m still caught on the whole meat hooks thing.” He frowned, and you continued, unable to stop yourself, “I mean, dude, what the fuck? How are you even alive after that?”

A strange smile twisted Ghost’s features, and he shrugged, “I’m very hard to kill.” You could feel a slight stickiness under your chin from where he’d use the neck of his drink, and you scowled at him, “Plus, you got beer on me!” “Did I?” “On my fucking neck!”

Ghost shifted, his head dipping down so his tongue could snake out and lick across the sticky patch on your neck, not something you’d seen coming, your heart fluttering in your chest. He grinned at you wickedly as you tried to get a hold of yourself, “Not a fan of beer?” You were sure you could feel your cheeks burning, and you huffed, “Not particularly.” He tilted his head at you, drawing closer, and you could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath as his eyes flicked down to your lips and over your face, “The taste enough to put you off?” Your heart hammered against your ribcage like it was trying to escape. You were certain he just wanted to distract you from the previous topic of conversation, but fuck, it was effective.

He’d pressed his lips against yours before you could even begin to formulate a response, the softest kiss, a level of delicacy you’d never have expected from a man like him. You didn’t even care about the cigarette taste on his lips, your fingers clutching at his jumper to bring him harder against you, every single part of you alight with excitement, everything else fading into obscurity.

Simon was the one to break away first, resting his forehead against yours, a very self satisfied smile on his face. “So, hot fuzz?” It took you a good second to figure out what he was on about. “What?” He pulled away from you, squeezing you tightly as he took another sip of his beer, “Wouldn’t want to miss the film, would we darlin’?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He laughed at that, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Nobody’s managed yet. What makes you think you’ve got a shot?” You bit your tongue, doing your best to ignore the smug aura radiating off the man.

Simon Riley had bested you. Again.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Arcanum Amoren

ACTUS SECUNDUS: PART II

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 3.5k words

Summary: Part 2 of a request for my beloved mutual @chibipeachu <33 // AU inspired by Romeo and Juliet, where you meet a gladiator on the first night of the Saturnalia, and both of you seem to be immediately struck by Cupid's arrow.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (this fic is 18+), Alternate Universe (no emperor Lucius), deviation from canon, Lucius and Reader are in their 20s, forbidden love, slight power imbalance, fluff, some angst, smut, unprotected p in v, loss of virginity, a little bit of dirty talk, no death at the end, jealousy, alcohol consumption (wine), potentially some historical inaccuracies (SORRY), and I think that's it but lmk if anything else!

You nursed a cup of wine as you stared off into the middle distance, not paying attention to the conversation your father and your suitor, Cassius, were engaged in. The initial introduction had been mercifully brief before the two men began talking politics, but you and Alba had no choice but to politely listen in, not yet dismissed. She seemed much more keen on actually listening to what they were saying, though, subtly nodding along even if she didn’t make any remarks herself.

Cassius was adequately handsome, with dark, kind eyes, sunkissed olive skin, and a mop of dark curls. He was a couple of years older than you, and taller by half a head. He seemed nice enough upon first impression, at the very least, but he hadn’t really tried to ask you anything about yourself. Not that you had expected him to, but it irked you all the same. If he wanted to marry you, shouldn’t he at least attempt to woo you a little bit?

Your mind drifted back to Lucius and his fervent blue eyes, which reminded you of the pale morning sky, the lovely promise of a new day. Those eyes had shown a real interest in you, and not the opportunities you offered, whether you wanted to or not. You didn’t think it had been just lust, either, but it was still too early to tell. Regardless, it was a very rare thing to encounter and you found it to be quite titillating. Then again, most forbidden things were.

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself idealistic, but it was hard not to fantasize, especially when the anticipation of your late night rendezvous was eating at you. Never before had you felt time stretching on so infinitely, and you could only hope that it remained that way while you were actually with him.

Lucius, for his part, had stuck to the shadows at the corners of the garden, keeping watch while remaining mostly unseen. Ravi had quickly caught on to his plans and half-heartedly tried to persuade him against it, but Lucius’s resolve was implacable. Especially after spotting you with Cassius, a bitter taste forming at the back of his throat he could not swallow down. His fists clenched and unclenched slowly at his sides.

“Glowering so openly will only invite unwanted attention, my friend,” Ravi said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The last thing I want to do is bring dishonor to the house of a friend by starting a row, especially during such a holy day.”

Lucius’s jaw clenched, but he nodded once, firmly. “And we will do no such thing, I assure you. Though… I can hardly explain it, Ravi.”

Ravi huffed with amusement, understanding all the same. “I know. We have all been arrested by such beauty at least once in our lives.”

“She goes beyond beauty.”

Ravi looked over at you, trying to see things through Lucius’s eyes. In the time he’d known the fierce gladiator, he had never seen him struck by someone to such a degree. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t succumbed to his baser instincts every now and again with pretty, giggling courtesans, but this was definitely different. He wasn’t sure if he should be more worried because of it, but he was at least sure he would be totally unsuccessful in deterring Lucius. He already knew how stubborn he could be. 

Ravi heaved a resigned sigh. “I know that, too.”

Lucius downed his cup of wine in one go and he silently offered to refill it for him, hoping he would stay put until he came back.

All that time, you’d felt a heavy gaze on you, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to look around for him. There was too much at risk to be that foolish, even if you were burning to meet his gaze once more. Without you realizing it, the smallest of smiles tugged at your lips at the thought of your brief conversation by the portraits.

But then Alba subtly elbowed your side, bringing you back to the present. You blinked, startled, and realized Cassius, your father, and Alba were looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m sorry?” You said, figuring Cassius must have asked you something.

He chuckled, perhaps confusing your absentmindedness for meek pining. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. 

“I asked if you knew how to play any instruments?” He said, his smile patient. “I’ve always been fond of music.”

“Um, the harp, a little bit. I don’t consider myself to be a very proficient player, really…” 

“Oh, don’t be so modest, daughter. You play beautifully,” your father cut in, pride in his voice. “And you have a lovely singing voice, too.”

Your face heated up from embarrassment, but you didn’t exactly want to contradict your father. Cassius raised his eyebrows, both faintly impressed and intrigued.

“Perhaps you will honor me with a demonstration some time,” he said.

“But of course,” you said automatically, bowing your head.

Cassius and your father smiled, well pleased. Alba clocked your discomfort in the tense set of your shoulders and subtly took your hand, squeezing your fingers reassuringly.

“Uncle, it is getting rather late. Perhaps my cousin and I may retire to our chambers for the evening?” She said, making a show of yawning behind her hand. “I would hate for us to collapse from exhaustion right in front of you.”

“Why, yes, of course. There’ll be plenty more time for us to chat in the coming days,” he said, kissing your forehead and then hers. “Get some rest so you’ll look just as lovely in the morning. Nobody likes a haggard looking woman, isn’t that right, Cassius?”

He laughed, setting your teeth on edge. “Rightly so.”

Mentally, you punched him right on the nose, but in reality you stood rigid, your plastered smile more a baring of teeth. Cassius took your hand and kissed your knuckles, but the gesture felt nothing like when Lucius did it. You wanted to recoil as if burnt. 

“I’ll be seeing you very soon,” he said, and you suppressed a shiver not of anticipation, but of dread. 

—------------------

You tossed and turned for what seemed like a restless eternity, waiting for all the noise outside to dwindle and eventually die down completely. You kept one candle burning on your bedside table, but otherwise, you were plunged in darkness. Every so often, you anxiously glanced towards the balcony, where you’d left the door ajar. Only the breeze slipped in for the longest time, until…

A darker shadow hovered in the threshold for a moment, as if making sure he was in the right place. You sat up in bed, heart rate immediately kicking up. You thought you recognized his broad shoulders and easy gait, but you scarcely dared to believe he was real, that this was actually happening.

“Is it really you?” You whispered, clutching the covers against your chest. 

His shoulders slumped with equal relief and you could swear you heard him breathe out a soft laugh.

“Yes, my lady, it’s me…” he whispered. “May I?”

“Yes, please.”

Slowly, he approached, and finally his face was faintly illuminated by the candlelight. He stood there, unmoving, though his eyes roamed, snatching on your trembling lips and the hollow of your throat. You let the covers fall from your grip, clothed in only a thin sleep tunic where he could see the pert outline of your breasts. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then briefly looked away, mentally chastising himself for being improper.

“What is it?” you asked.

His eyes flicked back to your face. “I just… wanted to look at you.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing you. He offered his hand and you took it, looking down at your laced fingers. With his free hand, he caressed your cheek before grasping your chin, making you meet his gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. 

You smiled lopsidedly, still feeling a flush of warmth at his compliments. “So you’ve said…”

He chuckled softly, realizing he was making a fool of himself. “It bears repeating.”

You scooted closer to him, suddenly feeling like any distance between you was too great. Perhaps it was the urgency of limited time, or the culmination of all your anticipation. Whatever it was, your body seemed to bow towards him out of its own volition, filled with longing.

Your eyes darted to his lips, slowly reaching up to brush them gently with the tips of your fingers. “Will you kiss me?”

He nodded, kissing your fingers before your hand moved to cup his face. He leaned in, hot breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. His lips brushed against yours softly, your eyes slipping closed in bliss. The tip of your tongue touched his upper lip enticingly and he shuddered, clutching you against him.

His lips melded against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. You whimpered wantonly, tightly holding onto his tunic with your free hand. What you really wanted was to feel his warm skin against yours, every hard plane of his muscles deliciously contrasting your softness.

Venus herself must’ve heard your silent pleas, for you felt your shift sliding off one of your shoulders. You pulled back for air, both of you panting, pupils blown wide. Holding his gaze, you slowly pulled the top half of your shift down to your waist. 

His breath caught in his throat as he took you in, unsure what to do with his hands. Your chest heaved under his appraisal, fire slowly blooming outward from within you. You reached out for his hand, bringing it to your sternum so he could feel how quickly your heart was beating.

“Touch me,” you said. “However you’d like to do it, just keep touching me.”

Every instinct screamed at him to give in to your wishes, but he hesitated, looking back up at your face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, swallowing hard and bracing himself for whatever your answer might be. “I’m aware of your… courtship.”

You clutched his arm and shook your head desperately, as if you could cast the thought away so simply.

“I’m not his. I could never be his,” you breathed. “I want to be yours.”

There was a sound low in his throat at that, and he dove forward to claim your mouth once more. His fingers danced over your ribcage before slowly trailing up towards your breasts. His mouth moved to your jaw and the slope of your throat, pulling more soft sounds from you. As your collective desperation increased, you slid back and pulled him over you, his body slotting between your legs.

He left open mouth kisses over your clavicles and the ladder of your sternum, but when his tongue dragged over to one of your sensitive nipples, you arched against him. Every part of your body felt hyper aware of him, nerve endings tingling even at the fan of his breath on your skin. 

He took his time lavishing your chest, one of his hands roaming lower and lower until it was slipping under your shift. Your legs jerked as he made contact with your inner thigh, your breath hitching. He grinned at you, well pleased that you were responding so keenly to him. 

“Have you ever touched yourself here, my lady?” he asked, his lips hovering over yours once more. “Did you imagine a ravagement such as this?”

You shook your head deliriously, trying to kiss him, but he kept himself teasingly out of reach. His fingers moved closer to your center, teasing the junction where it met your thigh. You could feel your heartbeat beating right at your core, intensely warm.

“No? Well… I suppose the real thing is always better, isn’t it?”

With that, his middle finger parted your folds, his brows furrowing wantonly as he realized just how slick you were already. He dragged his finger up, making contact with that bundle of nerves that nearly made you cry out. Was it supposed to feel that intense? It was like a whole new world was opening up for you.

“My, my… There’s my answer,” he said, finally kissing you once more. 

You moaned into his mouth as he continued his slow, exploratory ministrations. You bucked against his palm, instinctively searching for more friction. But he was determined to keep an easy pace, wanting to prolong your pleasure as long as he could. He circled your clit maddeningly, drawing out more honey from you, and earning a scratch on his shoulder.

His middle finger teased the entrance of your cunt, pushing inside a little bit, probing. You trembled against him, nodding for him to go on. 

“Please, Lucius,” you panted. “Please.”

Painstakingly slow, his finger plunged into you, making you momentarily tense. As he began to move it a little, you felt it curl inside of you, touching another spot you’d also been unaware of. Soon a second finger joined the first, and he fucked you with them at that same maddening pace, opening you up for him. His thumb slotted against your clit for an added layer, and after just a few swipes, you found yourself tumbling headfirst into oblivion. 

You felt like one of those mountains of fire during eruption, ripples of heat spreading through you. Your eyes closed and your mouth fell open as your muscles seized, your walls contracting against his finger with every pulse of ecstasy. Lucius moaned throatily as he helped you ride it all the way through, a possessive feeling surging within him.

He was painfully hard, his cock pulsing with need, but he wouldn’t go further if you didn’t wish to. He was content to make it all about you and would take the memory with him to please himself later.

But when you looked at him, starry-eyed and smiling beatifically as you parted your legs even more, he knew it would not be the case. You sat up to help him take his tunic off, mesmerized by the length and girth of him as it was revealed to you. In the dim candlelight, you could see the tip of it glistening with his own arousal.

“Last chance to go back,” he murmured, his hand wrapping around himself.

“Never,” you said without hesitation. “Make me yours, and only yours. I beg you.”

How could he ever deny such sweet words? If that was what you wanted, then he’d happily comply.

You wiggled out of your shift and laid back down, arms extended toward him to pull him in. He happily gave in, your knees drawing up to press against his hips. With one hand, he swiped the head of his cock through your folds, coating it in your slick. Still sensitive from your orgasm, you jerked against him, thighs pressing tighter against his sides. 

“This might hurt a little, but I’ll be careful,” he promised, taking your hand to kiss it. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

Though you nodded, you already knew you would be doing no such thing. You felt him line up with your entrance, the head pushing in slightly. It was more of a stretch than his fingers, so you inhaled sharply through your teeth at the slight sting. He paused only to assess your reactions, but then he kept pushing in little by little.

Once he was in to the hilt, he lowered himself so his chest was against yours, his face burying in your neck. He didn’t move at first, letting you get used to the full length of him throbbing inside you. Then he felt you squirming against him, his beard tickling your neck as he kissed it. His hips began to move, barely drawing back before plunging in once again, making you keenly aware of every single inch.

You sighed his name, fingers digging into his soft curls to tug his head so he’d meet your lips. Your tongues tangled sloppily as his thrusts gradually grew in intensity, hips snapping against yours. It was a struggle to keep quiet, especially as he hit spots deep inside you that had your head spinning. He followed every soft plea to go harder, deeper, your desperate mewls spurring him on.

Lucius felt his own pleasure mounting, the muscles of his abdomen bunching. Your warmth and the tight clutch of your cunt had his sack tightening, becoming increasingly harder to keep his orgasm at bay. But he wanted you to come together, this time, meld your bodies for good.

He snaked a hand between your bodies and found your clit once more, rubbing it in frantic circles. You muffled your hitching moans against his shoulder, pressing your face against it. Your cunt clamped down on him as you felt yourself slipping under once more, pulling him along with you. He buried himself to the hilt just as his release began to spill, an animalistic groan escaping his throat with each spurt coating your insides. Now you were well and truly his, and he wouldn’t let anyone take you from him. 

The two of you clutched each other tightly as if to anchor yourselves in reality. Gradually, you drifted back to the present and he pulled back to look at you, brushing hair away from your face. You smiled as if drunk, your cheeks flushed brightly. He peppered your face with kisses, not wanting to ever pull away from you.

But outside, birds were just beginning their dawn chorus, reminding you of all the dangers daylight would bring. At most, you had a few more minutes of peace.

“Take me with you,” you said, giving him pause. “Not today but… Someday.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere far away, where no one will know who we are, or what is expected of us.”

He searched your features for any hint of doubt. “Is that what you really want?” 

You nodded. “I cannot stay here. I can’t. They’ll hand me over to him as soon as it’s convenient.”

“We won’t let that happen.” He grasped your hand tightly, a look of determination on his face. “I don’t know how, but I promise you I will do what I can to get you out of here.”

“Let it be soon, please,” you said. “Nights aren’t nearly long enough to be at your side.”

“We still have a few days of the Saturnalia, my love,” he said, trying to soothe your anxiety. “Perhaps I may be able to visit you like this so we may… do some planning.”

You chuckled at the insinuation in his tone, rolling your eyes playfully. “How much planning can actually be done with no clothes on?”

“Oh, believe me, I’m at my most effective then.” He grinned mischievously. “I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

————————-

The day of your wedding came, but you were not present for it. In fact, you were leagues away from the Ostia Antica, surrounded by the glittering Tyrrhenian sea. Seagulls circled overhead, squawking among themselves. The salty breeze pushed your hood off your head and tousled your hair. Your eyes were fixed on the horizon, wondering when you would see land next.

Lucius reached over to pull your hood back on and you turned to smile at him. You were aboard a merchant ship, granted safe passage after paying off the captain with what was meant to be your dowry. The ship was headed to Greece, but you weren’t sure if that would be your final destination. 

It was both exhilarating and frightening not knowing what would come next in your life. But for the first time, it would all be up to you, with only the Gods to intervene. That couldn’t be helped. So far, though, Fortuna had tipped her scale in your favor, and you had to have trust it would carry you safely to wherever you’d end up.

And with Lucius at your side, nothing really seemed impossible, anyway. You had managed to run away, after all. Though it was sad to leave certain aspects of your life behind, like your family, you kept your gaze ahead. Everything ahead of you, nothing behind you. That was the way of things.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucius prompted, secretly hoping you weren’t having any second thoughts.

You sidled up against him, sighing contentedly. “How grateful I am that fortune sometimes favors fools in love.”

He chuckled, relieved. “So you are saying we are fools?”

“Oh, we are. We really are.” You laughed, kissing his cheek. “But I like that about us.”

He hummed as if considering your words. “Foolish enough to sneak into the captain’s quarters for a moment alone? After all, we’re yet to celebrate the beginning of our new lives…”

Your smile had a mischievous curl to it. “Why, yes, we are. Though not foolish enough to get ourselves caught, I hope.”

His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you even closer. “Hmm, we’ll see about that once I get my hands on you.”

--------

FINIS.

[thetepes]

I'm going to skip over the cute egg moments of childhood and say I've always felt wrong and I've always been masculine. I just am. When I was adopted my mom specifically stated she wanted a "little china doll" to dress up and do mommy daughter things with. What she got was a big, hairy, mentally ill Eastern European who sobbed when she tried to dress me in her handsewn pastel dresses and who's pretty blonde ringlets turned brown around 9. I've had to take estrogen since I was a kid. I've never fit physically what a girl is by what everyone told me they are. Especially my mom.

She fought and fought and physically wrestled me at a few points to make me wear skirts and makeup and do my hair. It didn't feel right. It felt bad, but over time I learned to just fucking do it because it made my mom happy and my life easier. Waxing stops hurting. The hair dye stops burning. The leg cramps can be massaged out, but you can't be muscular. Just thin. Dainty. Pretty. Hairless. Don't tan, you're already too dark. Pale. Use this lotion to be softer, paler, smell pretty. Use this body spray. Use this glorified cheese grater on your feet so they're not rough.

My mental health went to hell around 14 and I ran away after graduating early due to bullying and how bad my home life was getting. I got lucky and found a group of people who took me in, loved me, took care of me. They convinced me to go to college and I did. At college I fell into the hands of some very bad people.

At the time I was so sure they were my friends. This group of women who just wanted to help me. They were lgbt+ and they were progressive leftists who said all the right things. I was 16 and I didn't know I was being groomed. I didn't know that what those women were doing to me was the same fucking thing my dad had been doing and what I ran away from because they had me so convinced that it was good. It was different.

They were helping me come to terms with what he'd done to me. Showing me porn. Touching me and worse. Telling me shit that wakes me up out of a dead sleep still. Coaxing me into this soft meek gentle thing that they kept like a lap dog. Exposure therapy they called it. Men were evil. I wasn't a boy, I was a girl. I was a good girl. I wore pink and lace and my collar was so cute and my nails were perfectly done and I had all these fucking adults doing things to me no adult should be doing to a child. I was addicted to it. I'd have done anything they told me to just to not lose the attention and love.

It wasn't until they lied about one of their boyfriends sexually assaulting them that I realized something wasn't right. They outed him as bi and lied about so much shit he'd never done and I knew because I'd been there. I realized they were liars and they really enjoyed lying and causing this guy pain. Then I realized it wasn't just him, it was all men. Then I realized I'm men and I felt like a fucking clown. I felt so stupid and gross in that dress with the makeup and everything else. How could I have let them do this to me? I was some terfs blow up doll.

I went to the school faculty, told them the girls were lying, gave my first hand account and all the chatroom receipts of them talking about what they were doing, and transferred out to another school in another state that was willing to pick up my credits.

I had so much damage to undo. I worked so fucking hard in therapy. I still blame myself. I'm never going to get over what they did to me. At the time it was just surviving the shame of it and I did. I stuffed down all my emotions about it and my gender until the last five years. Life slowed down and it felt safe to think about beyond just hating myself and my body.

It was hard to parse through what was that old misery about the body I had and what was the new because of the accident. Sometimes I still can't tell if I hate something because I'm disabled or because of the dysphoria or even because I'm fat. It feels like who I should have been is hidden under layers of wax and I'm peeling at them with a spoon and just not making a dent. I'm stuck with who I am. I can kind of see them under there. Just enough to be mad about it.

I called myself nonbinary at first and kept it to myself then finally I came out as a trans man socially and really sank my fingers back into being LGBT+

I have never felt more fucking policed by people who had no damn business in my life. All that shit that didn't matter when I was enby was suddenly a big fucking issue. What you shaved your face? What you can't bind? What you aren't doing your voice training? What you aren't on testosterone? What you aren't doing this or that or whatever the fuck. It suddenly became this nightmarish passing game where if you weren't putting your whole pussy in that blender then you weren't a real trans man.

And I did it. I reached a point where you couldn't fucking tell I was a woman once when I spoke. Crushed my tits until they were blue. Cut my precious hair. Even planned on going through with surgeries that scared the living shit out of me and results of weren't at all what I wanted just so I could pass that much more and maybe feel just a little bit better in my skin. I took medication that was dangerous because of my hormone disorder to try to be a good trans person who did it right.

I was still struggling with my grooming though and undoing all that evil and no one gave a fuck because I triggered them by just existing. God forbid I speak about it even in spaces where they dumped oceans of trauma because mine was triggering and bad.

And the culture? Repelled me. Those same fucking women that abused me were suddenly all around me in all shapes and sizes and getting praised for everything they did to me. The same art that had been used to get me comfortable wearing lolita pink bullshit and collars was being mainstreamed. The uwu baby speak I'd been trained to speak in to be cute for my abusers was mainstreamed. I was surrounded on all sides by orientalism, bio essentialism, and this tits deep hatred of men. Of masculinity.

You can't be a man and be safe to these people. "You're going to turn out just like your dad" "Why would you want to be a man after what they did to you" "All men are abusers" "All men are oppressors" "So when are you going to start raping" Treating me like I was some kind of threat when they found out I'm not fucking white then doubling down when they found out I was a man. Suddenly I was aggressive and harsh and scary when I had not even slightly changed my personality from when I was enby and they loved me.

Worse than all of that though was the pity. They pitied me for being a man, wanting to be a man, trying to be a man and it made me sick. I didn't want their fucking pity. They sowed these seeds of doubt in the post petty passive aggressive ways. Telling you it's ok if you dont pass then praising others when they do right in front of you and talking about gender euphoria and how good it all feels when you do while you're left sitting there feeling like some kind of disgusting freak of nature.

I watched people glorify this objectified take on gender and sexuality until I just couldn't anymore and I left all those rancid fucking spaces and said "I'm not a man. I'm done." and just started laughing. That's all you can do. I hit 30 and realized this is all fucking bullshit. Why am I obsessively checking myself for someone else's standard of a man? I don't need to be a man to exist.

And saying that unleashed a very special hell. Did someone hurt you? Did someone talk you into doing this? Did someone talk you out of doing this? You can tell us. You know you can just be a girl if you want to! I'm sorry that society is preventing you from realizing who you are. It gets better, I promise. Just keep trying.

Or you were never really trans.

Noooo, never mind I've never felt like a girl. Never mind all that hate I have for myself physically. Never mind my medical issues. I'm not doing enough so I was never trans. It can't be the entire community is full of toxicity, ablism, racism, sex pests, and tribalism. You would all gleefully accept a pedophile as long as they came with some kind of label then praise Kendrick at the Superbowl for calling Drake one in front of thousands. Let someone bang on a keyboard for a minute and you'll become a debate rapist when it comes out they jacked off in calls with unknowing minors or god forbid ones they damn well knew as long as they have a deadname.

So, yeah. Sure. I'm a failure. I failed to be a girl. I failed to be a woman. I failed to be a man. I failed to be trans. I failed to be cis. Detransitioning fixed as much as transitioning did. Not a damn thing. What actually helped was not obsessively checking myself and being in a space where gender is treated like an eating disorder. I'm worlds less dysphoric outside of the community because I'm not being inundated with what is and isn't trans. What's helped is therapy. What's helped is genuine friendship that isn't built on what I am, but who I am. What's helped is having a job I'm damn fucking good at and hobbies I enjoy. What's helped is turning 30 and realizing I'm done living for other people and by their standards. It's my time now.

I'm a happy failure.

[meadowfics]

physical affection

park gyeong-seok / player 246 x f!reader

all you needed was yourself, and the man who saved your life

warnings: no smut but there is a lot of physical touch and making out. consensual age gap, since reader is intended to be 21 while gyeong seok is 40 years old.

you never asked for this life.

you're only 21, you should be finishing school, figuring out your future, maybe even enjoying your youth.

instead, you're trapped under two hundred thousand dollars (USD) of debt left behind by parents who never thought about what they were leaving you with before they passed.

you had no way out.

no safety net, no backup plan.

the loan sharks didn’t care that you were young.

they didn’t care that it wasn’t your fault.

they wanted their money, and they made sure you knew that.

every single day.

when the squid game invitation found its way to you, it felt like the only option.

the debt wasn’t going anywhere, and no matter how many jobs you worked, no matter how much you sacrificed, you’d never make enough in this lifetime to pay it back.

so you went. knowing full well that this was a death trap or something mentally pricey, but also knowing you had no choice.

inside the game, you struggled to make allies.

you weren’t completely alone...you had hyun-ju, young-mi, and the mother and son duo.

they were good people.

however, you weren’t part of a real alliance.

you still felt out of place, like a stray in a pack.

since the first game, there was one person you always noticed.

player 246.

he was older, maybe ten or fifteen years older than you.

you had no clue.

he carried himself differently from the others.

calm, focused, not trying to stand out like thanos.

he always looked at you.

not in a predatory way like some of the other men, but like he saw you.

he was just as aware of you as you were of him.

still, you never had the courage to approach him.

you didn’t know if he was dangerous, if he already had an alliance, if he even cared that you were here.

then the mingle game started.

you never realized how much you relied on young-mi’s presence until she was gone.

you had distanced yourself from your allies after that unfortunate round.

now it was too late to go back.

the sound played.

the platform spun.

another round, the last round, was about to start, and you knew you had to move fast.

the second the platform stopped, you ran.

you sprinted toward the closest door, desperate to find safety before the round ended.

however, two men shoved you aside, sending you sliding across the floor as they slammed the purple door shut behind them.

panic filled your chest.

you scrambled to get up, but the seconds were slipping away.

if you didn’t get into a room now, you were dead.

before you could react, strong arms grabbed you.

you barely had time to process what was happening before you were pulled through another door.

the lock clicked.

the game was over.

you were safe.

you looked up, heart racing, and saw him. player 246.

relief crashed over you, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him.

“thank you,”

"thank you,"

"thank you,"

you choked out, barely able to hold back your tears.

surprisingly, he didn’t push you away.

instead, he held you, steady and firm, like he understood just how close you had been to dying.

he needed this hug more than you realized.

when you pulled back, your hands lingered on his shoulders, and his stayed on your waist.

it was the closest you had ever been to anybody.

suddenly, you couldn’t ignore the tension anymore.

"its no problem. I needed someone too."

he says.

“how can i repay you?”

you whispered, looking up at him.

you would do anything for him since he saved your life.

he shook his head.

“you don’t have to.”

you wanted to.

the way he looked at you, the way he had saved you without hesitation,

it meant something.

without hesitation, it meant something.

your eyes flickered to his lips. you didn’t think, didn’t overanalyze it.

you just leaned in and kissed him in the locked room.

he kissed you back, slow and deep, like he had been waiting for this just as much as you had.

the man's lips were soft, chapped, but soft.

you closed your eyes, letting yourself feel a temporary moment of peace.

when you finally pulled away, you asked him why he was here.

why he needed the money.

“for my daughter,”

he said simply.

your heart clenched. you weren’t expecting that.

“you have a daughter?”

he nodded.

“yes. she's sick. her mother died. if i don’t make it out, she has no one.”

you felt your stomach twist.

so he wasn’t just fighting for himself, no stupid debt.

he was fighting for his kid.

“this is the most selfless thing you could do for her,”

you murmured.

“i hope you make it out.”

he gave a small nod.

“i have to.”

gyeong-seok's voice was quiet but firm, and you could see the stress weighing on him.

the exhaustion, the desperation to survive.

without thinking, you reached out and took his hands in yours.

they were rough, but warm.

“do you want me to stick with you?”

you asked.

he looked at you, really looked at you, before nodding.

“yes.”

you squeezed his hands.

“then we’ll get through this together.”

from that moment on, you weren’t alone anymore.

neither was he.

after settling back into the sleeping area, you and gyeong-seok stayed close under a shared blanket in the top corner of the room.

your backs were against the cold wall, knees bent, legs touching.

the air around you was tense.

its lights out.

your breathing was steady, but your mind wasn’t.

your body wasn’t.

neither was his.

you could feel the heat radiating off of him, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, whether intentional or not.

neither of you spoke.

not for a while. it wasn’t necessary.

the game had forced silence upon you both after you guys walked out of the room.

its a forced understanding that didn’t need words.

however, the way he looked at you in the dim lighting, the way his fingers barely brushed over your hand resting on your knee..

it sent a slow, burning heat through your veins.

you turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his.

he didn’t move right away, just stared, searching your expression.

your lips parted slightly, and that was all it took.

he shifted closer, just enough to ghost his lips over yours, waiting, letting you be the one to close the distance.

you did.

your lips pressed against his, hesitant at first, testing, but once he kissed you back, there was no holding back.

gyeong-seok's hand found its way to your jaw, fingers curling gently, keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss.

the man's lips were warm, slow but firm, like he wanted to take his time despite the circumstances around you both.

your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you tilted your head to let him kiss you deeper.

gyeong-seok's other hand slid down to your waist, his palm pressing lightly against your side.

it was nothing more than a touch, but it sent a shiver through your spine.

the blanket shielded you both from prying eyes, but it didn’t matter.

the world outside of it didn’t exist.

you shifted slightly, pulling yourself closer, slotting your legs against his.

gyeong-seok's lips moved to the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, trailing slowly before coming back up to kiss you again.

your breath hitched, and he swallowed it, his lips parting against yours.

you pulled him even closer, desperate, aching for something you couldn’t quite put into words.

246's hand pressed more firmly against your waist, his thumb stroking absentmindedly along your ribs, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

the room around you was restless...players whispering, people shifting in their sleep, others watching for danger

none of that mattered to you.

the man's lips were soft, but the way he kissed you was anything but.

it was slow, deep, controlled, like he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible.

your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, earning a quiet exhale from him.

his breath was warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

neither of you spoke.

the man's hand slid from your waist to your back, holding you there like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

you stayed like that, your noses brushing, lips barely touching, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

right now, it only is you and him.

three days later, somehow, against all odds, you and gyeong-seok made it out alive.

the games were over.

the nightmare was behind you.

you had both seen too much, lost too much, but you survived.

that had to mean something.

the prize money was split between the remaining five people who survived.

even after the split, it was more than enough.

you could finally pay off your debt.

you could breathe.

for the first time in your life, the weight that had been crushing you for years was finally gone.

gyeong-seok wasted no time.

the second you were out, he used his share to pay off every last hospital bill for his daughter.

he still had enough money left to give his daughter a comfortable life.

na-yeon had been his reason for fighting, his reason for enduring.

now, she would get the care she deserved.

before anything else, he took you to the hospital.

you had been through hell..your body bore the evidence of it, bruises and wounds that would take time to heal.

you insisted you were fine, that he should be with his daughter

instead, but he refused to leave you alone.

after you were cleared to leave, you guys stayed in the hospital.

you realized that you were walking to the pediatric unit with him..

“come with me,”

he said.

“i want you to meet her.”

you hesitated.

this was personal.

this was his daughter.

despite everything, you and gyeong-seok were still figuring out what you were to each other outside of the games.

“are you sure?”

you asked quietly.

“i don’t want to intrude.”

he took your hands in his, warm and steady.

“na-yeon is the sweetest girl in the world,”

he reassured you.

“she’ll love you.”

so you went.

when you stepped into na-yeon’s hospital room, you weren’t sure what to expect.

the second her small eyes landed on her father, her whole face lit up.

“daddy!”

the toddler's voice was soft but filled with excitement.

gyeong-seok immediately went to her side, cupping her tiny face in his hands, pressing the gentlest kiss to her forehead.

then, her gaze landed on you.

curious, but not afraid.

“who’s that?”

she asked.

gyeong-seok turned to you, his expression soft.

“this is y/n,”

he told her.

“she’s my friend.”

you guys were more than friends, partners actually, but that might be too much to explain to na-yeon right now.

you stepped closer, smiling carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“hi, na-yeon. it’s really nice to meet you.”

she studied you for a moment before offering the smallest, sweetest smile.

then, without hesitation, she reached for your hand.

your heart clenched.

slowly, you took it, squeezing ever so lightly.

na-yeon's smile widened.

gyeong-seok watched the moment unfold, something stirring deep in his chest.

he had entered those death games with one goal: to make it out for na-yeon.

somewhere along the way, he found another reason to keep going.

another reason to fight in his everyday life.

you.

as he watched na-yeon hold onto you so easily, so trustingly, he realized it fully.

he had found the love of his life in the most unexpected place.

in those cruel, merciless games, you were the one who stood by him when no one else did.

you were the one who reached for his hand in the dark.

now, you were here.

with him. with his daughter.

you decided that you were gonna stay with him, and na-yeon too.

especially in a world that finally, finally, felt like it was giving you both a chance.

masterlist

[ryuucam]

MIXIN’ N MATCHIN’!

when … your best friend can’t stand your crush on genshin men anymore, and starts working on a genius plan to get you guys together!

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ lumine & albedo, zhongli

a/n … zhongli’s section takes place during the lantern rite! i don’t know much about chinese celebrations and their customs so i did my best to research some information. please lmk if i got anything wrong!!

[honkai: star rail version coming soon] [pt 2 coming soon]

#1 MATCHMAKER OF ALL TEYVAT (AND BEYOND) … LUMINE!

lumine has been traveling teyvat for what seems like ages now, the journey to find her brother becoming more and more lengthy as time passes. luckily she encountered you, quickly bonding a tight friendship, reminding her of her home-world, where she used to play matchmaker with her friends. so, when one day she notices your gaze lingering just a little bit longer on him, she quickly puts 2 and 2 together… detective lumine starts her mission now!

case 001 — ALBEDO

even someone who wasn’t a genius like her (in her humble opinion) could notice how your cheeks turned redder and your gaze softer in front of the charming alchemist from dragonspine. really, it’s both a blessing and a curse — lumine now doesn’t have to wander around the snowy mountain by herself (paimon isn’t the best company…) but the price to pay is watching your atrocious attempts at making conversation with albedo.

what’s worse (is there even anything worse than watching two awkward idiots stare at each other without doing anything??) is that she can see that albedo likes you too. hell, was he always this talkative? who even cares about how much mucus cryo slimes produce in the summer? you, apparently — which is precisely why she set her mind on getting you together.

albedo, apparently, doesn’t only look like a charming, romantic prince, but also seems to act like a cheesy fool in love, sketching you over and over and over … in his top secret sketchbook. one day, when he’s too busy blabbering about the logistics of the nth lost puzzle he found (and you’re too concentrated on pretending to listen to him), lumine wanders back to his tent, swiftly snatching his sketchbook and throwing it into her bag. once it’s time to head back down the mountain, she can’t stop giggling to herself, savoring the look you’ll have on your face once you’ll see the infinite sketches of you.

unsurprisingly, once she brings out the drawings you feel like fainting. THE albedo having a whole diary about you? you feel like you’re on cloud nine. this surely can’t be true, of course, he probably has one for each of his friends… thoughts like this go in and out of your brain as you scan the pages, before something catches your eye.

a portrait of you, with a cryo crystalfly peached on your nose. when did he even find the time to draw this? as your face reddens, your gaze drops to the corner of the page, met with a quickly scribbled caption…

mein schatz, sketch #88. lumine chuckles as you shriek — what’s left is getting either one of you to confess.

[case 001, SUCCES!]

case 002 — ZHONGLI

lumine is sure that she’d make a great detective. of course she would, she has an amazing eye for catching up with the feelings of those around her. you’re lucky she’s also incredibly patient — otherwise, she’d have already hypnotized you or something to make you admit your feelings for the wangsheng funeral parlor employee. yes, you’re awfully lucky, because she has now set her mind on setting up a date between you and none other than the geo archon himself, zhongli.

but how? you haven’t visited liyue in a while, and surely showing up for no apparent reason (even if she’s the hero of liyue! she doesn’t need any excuse!) would rise up some suspicions. wait, what is she thinking? of course she has a reason to visit liyue! this year lantern’s rite is just around the corner — and surely you won’t mind accompanying your best friend, right? plus, zhongli will be there too!

as you both reach liyue, all dolled up for the celebration, lumine quickly ushers you to wanmin restaurant, claiming that some of your friends are already there — what about her? of course, she’s busy with something, she’ll be right back! you can barely nod before being greeted by xinyan and yunjin, not noticing the funeral parlor director herself approaching lumine. little did you know, hu tao has already taken note of mr. zhongli’s fondness of you, especially since he’s been lamenting the lack of your presence more often.

sometimes even the best detectives need helpers, lumine thinks. hu tao will do for now. lumine can’t hide her excitement as they both start chattering about their foolproof plans for getting you and zhongli together — and apparently their giggles are too loud, or they said your name too many times… well, whatever it is, they’re screwed now. really screwed, lumine thinks, as she and hu tao turn around, met with yaoyao’s adorable doe eyes.

“big sis, miss hu tao, what are you talking about?”, she voices, her words laced with pure curiosity. “well, we uhm…”, lumine tries to scramble her thoughts together — if yaoyao spills the beans to her master cloud retainer, lumine’s sure that she’s done for, as xianyun would waste no time in chiding zhongli for not asking you out sooner.

“i mean, why are you hiding and talking about mr zhongli and miss y/n? if you have to tell them something, they’re both right there!”

right where? lumine and hu tao lock eyes, mirroring each other’s shocked expressions. as they turn around for what feels like ages, they’re met with a shocking sight (hu tao’s sure that she’s going to pass out).

surely enough, here you are, hand in hand with none other than zhongli himself, as he tells you about the history of the lantern rite. zhongli, for once, isn’t reminiscing with his eyes closed in reflection, but he’s looking right at you, with a deep, affectionate gaze. as he leans in to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, lumine feels like crying — what was the point in making all that effort if she was going to be beat by zhongli’s passion for history??

[case 002, FAIL-ish?]

[unbeatable-champ]

Bede's a funny boy. According to Gloria, he seemed rather pleased with the whole situation, so who knows. Yeah, I really could do without all the business.... who would've thought, so much of it is just that? I never would've guessed I'd need an office in my flat, when I was little kid. I don't think I'd ever have even guessed I would have a flat. And in Wyndow, of all places! I enjoy being Champion and all, but it really is a lot, sometimes. The Chairman and the League staff handle so much.. but even if all I'm getting is their scraps, it's still quite a bit. I hardly know what to do with myself half the time... but alas. I did go for the title, and the title I'll uphold... paperwork and all, haha! Saints. I can't even imagine what it'd be like to quit.

Ah, yes. I'm lucky in that regard, even when I was younger most people never really spoke to me about it. I was usually too busy running around in the woods or following after my father to give it any thought, then, and nobody ever really bothers going after single men for that. I'm sure the press would have a field day if I spoke out more of my own experiences with the whole thing. They already go frantic whenever I have lunch (with my happily taken, by the way!) Friend. Hardly anyone knows I'm trans to begin with. As much as I'd love to be more outspoken, it really is easier to just go on as if I've always been a man, cut and dry. It's unfortunate it is that way. I try to keep my thoughts positive, though. And no, I don't dwell on it too much. I'm not in any relationship, anyhow. No need to go pondering a future that wouldn't happen. You are right, though. I'm still young. I try my best to enjoy that as I can!

Right on! Oh, Ms. Melony is a doll. Strong, as well. Matches with her have never been boring. I'm still impressed she's managed to beat Raihan, as well. He's not an easy man to get past, especially when he gets to use all his weather tricks. Galar is a lovely place, although I am rather biased. I'd love to travel, myself, but that's a future issue to bother with. We are a bit unique with how we do it. You lot, the Gyms are open year-round, yes? That takes away a lot of the work. Other than Exhibition Matches, outside of the Gym Challenge, the only responsibilities I really have are to keep up with training, public appearances, and paperwork. The same goes for the Gym Leaders, though they've also got to deal with maintaining the Stadiums and helping the Minor League Leaders when they require it. Our general League staff is quite extensive, as well, thanks to Chairman Rose. He helped shape a lit of the modern Galar League. Though, we've always run our League more of a tourney style, anyways. I'm not nearly as much of a history buff as Rai or Sonia, but I do know that our Gym Challenge has roots in old Knights' competitions, and royalty betting circles and whatnot. Fascinating stuff.

Oh yeah wait you're too old to know what inkay games is my bad

Oh, please, I’m only twenty-three.

[ he’s not old. don’t make that mistake again. ]

—💎

[mei-yoi]

Trench coat buttoned to that top and these ballerina ass slippers

[moderngirlbleachers]

i think the 60s will be back in a big way this year

[icewindandboringhorror]

The "average" person on facebook is so scary lol.. I’ve just seen someone post a status earnestly being like “whew thank god, SO happy to see there are armed security in front of my local Target store now! finally all those nasty thieves can be dealt with! <3” with nothing but complete agreement in the comments, plus people wishing anyone who shoplifts gets shot like "hopefully they're actually allowed to use their guns LOL! ;)" and that getting positive likes and reactions... ??? The whole attitude of "Oh noooo! :( Not someone taking like $40 of stuff from target! :( This is definitely not part of a larger systemic problem and could clearly all be solved if only I were just able to watch them be violently assaulted, which I am REALLY looking forward to because I am very normal and healthy :) God I wish so desperately that I could watch a poor person get gunned down in front of me, I dream everyday about seeing other human beings maimed!! Which again, is a completely normal healthy thing to wish for! :) Thank god I'm not some immoral thieving barbarian! And thank god for Target! :) <3" and that it's normalized enough that nobody in all the hundred comments finds it bizarre at all like.. hewwo..

[missrosegold]

Looks like I just lost another close friend to guy who isn't worth a pile of dog shit. 😊

[screampied]

you don’t really realize you’re growing old with satoru until you spot a grey tress inside the roots of your hair as you’re looking in the mirror. the thing about marriage and life itself was that time really doesn’t stop—for no one. as you entrap the lock between your fingers, you murmur out to satoru with a cheeky grin. “satoru baby, c’mere.”and as he’s lying in bed with a wrinkled nose, he reads some book titled ‘three men in a boat.’ as he flips a thick page, his cerulean blue reading glasses crook down the bridge of his nose before he turns his attention toward you.

“yesss, honey?” he rubs his eyes, bringing a palm up to his growing stubble. as he got older, you noticed how he moved a bit slower. satoru was still fit as he aged, but he’d have a bit of a waddle whenever he walked. it was cute—how his limbs were getting more and more fragile, but he was still labeled as the strongest despite his inevitable aging.

he makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you make eye contact through the mirror that reflects you both, a happy married couple. “look, we’re finally matching now,” and his face softens once you bring the silvery colored strand up to his view. ‘matching,’ because his hair was naturally a snowy white . . almost similar to the strand of hair you just showed him.

although as the years progressed, satoru was growing ashen grey streaks too.

“i guess we are,” he replied in a gentle tone, his hands remaining on your hips. satoru’s touch was always gentle and ginger. he presses his lips near the back of your nape before letting off a soft sigh. “you’d look pretty with white hair, actually.”

“prettier than you?” you hum, glancing at him through the mirror. satoru towers over you as he holds you, the band of his wedding ring grazing against your hip.

again, you watch as the corners of his lips crease into a smile. a toothy genuine one where his dimples show.

“haha, veeeery funny,” and as he buries his face into your neck, he deeply ponders to himself for a moment.

to think . . how much time has passed, out of all the countless tiresome battles he’s had to face—

all those years at trying to keep the world safe and now, he could finally relax. having his arms around you gave him a peace of mind, and in the end it was all worth it because at the end of the day, satoru gojo—the strongest, came back to you. you were his personal safe haven and he was yours.

“but honeyyy,” he yawns with rosy pouty lips, shifting his chin up to rest against your left shoulder. satoru starts leading you toward your side of the bed. “ ‘s pretty late, let’s getcha back to bed, hm?”

“okay,” you mumble, already feeling your eyes starting to get heavy again. satoru’s still got his burly arms wrapped around your waist as he leisurely guides you back to bed. he was clingy, and that never changed. satoru gojo’s always been clingy ever since the two of you met. as he pulls down the cover for you to enter, you crawl back in and he gets beside you.

satoru slings an arm around you, pulling you close as his hooded eyes starts a staring contest with the swaying wooden ceiling fan.

it’s moving slow. . just like time was.

whenever he was with you, it felt as if time stood still. and as the both of you cuddled against each other with your head resting against his beating heart, he sighs. it’s a content happy sigh, and satoru’s hands find their way near the top of your head. his thin fingers maze it’s way near your soft grey growing strand before he leans in, giving the crown of your head a goodnight kiss. “mwah,” and he watches as your eyes briefly widen before glancing away, growing sheepish. “get some rest, my love. i’ll be here when you wake up. promise.”

you nod, too drowsy to reply and he pulls you closer. satoru’s heartbeat was steady and slow, and each pulse that bested against your ear made you felt more and more protected. as he holds you firm and close, a hand of his softly caresses your forehead—brushing against the soft hairs that cling onto your skin.

as your breathing starts to relax and your eyelids finally close, he realizes you finally drifted off to sleep. satoru exhales lowly, almost forgetting to take off his reading glasses. as he places them near the nightstand, he lies back down, giving your sleeping state once last glance.

“i love you,” he whispers against your ear before reaching for the pearled lamp switch. “so much.”your head nuzzles against his chest and he assumes that was your non-verbal way of saying it back, even in your sleep. cute.

the only sounds that could be heard were the faint tick tocking of the grandfather clock that stood near the hallway and your soft breathing as you deeply slept. satoru feels a smile tugging against his glossed lips yet again, but this time it’s different . .

it’s not the same smile from when you showed him that you were graying, it was a more genuine smile that was satisfied at everything—primarily at life. satoru’s long crystalline lashes gradually flap shut as he smiles to himself, a thumb brushing against your forehead. all those battles was worth it in the end, because right now, he’s at the only place he wanted to be . . with you.

life wasn’t a competition, but satoru finally felt at peace, true peace—and that peace was being in your presence. he wasn’t one for believing in good endings, but maybe this particular one wasn’t so bad.

“i . . won.”

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[meejijis]

ah yes today is the day where one of my most hated manga moments of all time gets animated and I’m already just salty just thinking about it