#but anyway. it’s happening and it’s special to write again it’s been SO long!!!!!

[pussymasterdooku]

.

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 9.2k warnings: absent parents, canonical child neglect, descriptions of the effects of uninvolved parenting, brief mentions of food [read on ao3] — [part two]

What was she doing?

Diana had found herself sitting outside the front of Wesker’s house, fingers absent-mindedly curling and uncurling around her steering wheel as she chewed on her lip. She could easily back out of his driveway and head to her apartment like she’d intended to, before he could even realise she had been there, but no – instead, she decided to take him up on his offer for dinner at his house.

It was a foolish thing, really, to be as excited as she was to see him again so soon after they had only just run into one another that afternoon. Or perhaps intrigued was a more fitting word for how curious she was to see what it was he wanted.

She had been cleaning up the lab for the day – much earlier than usual as she itched to head out and look over some files she wasn’t supposed to have access to – when Wesker had rung her out of nowhere, asking if she wished to join him that evening. That silver tongue of his was rather annoying, in all honesty, especially considering how thrilled she’d been at the date she had planned with those reports and a nice bottle of wine.

As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see him again.

Diana sighed to herself the moment she opened her car door and stepped out into the night air, feeling the cool breeze biting at her skin. As if the shorter days weren’t enough already, the evenings carried this awfully unpleasant chill that had her cursing her decision to wear a skirt; the sheer nylon covering her legs did little to stave off the cool air as icy needles worked their way through the fabric and pricked at her skin.

The mountains in the distance looked quite beautiful though; a blanket of yellows, reds, and the odd green had been draped over the slope facing the city, as if the forest had been set ablaze, almost. She didn’t really want to think about what would happen if that were to ever occur, not only because it reminded her too much of back home, but because she would feel horrible for the adders she so loved to observe.

And she had made quite a few fond memories on the trails – one, in particular, she still thought of too often for the fact that neither she nor Wesker had brought it up again after such an incident had occurred.

Quickly plucking her handbag from the passenger seat, Diana slung it over her shoulder then shut her car door with a bit too much force, as though that would somehow stop the obnoxious fluttering in her stomach caused by such inane thoughts.

It was simply the result of a few drinks, that’s all.

That was quite a fun little tale she liked to tell herself, considering neither of them had even had a buzz on that night.

Who knew the cold, conceited, and terribly callous Albert Wesker could be so… tender with her? It didn’t matter, she would do best to forget that stupid camping trip had ever happened and just move on.

Leaning down, Diana took one more quick glance at herself in the side-view mirror while she worked on locking her car. She couldn’t tell whether the flush across her cheeks was because of the chilling winds or if her mind was to blame, but it pulled a rather dramatic sigh from her, regardless.

With the click of her lock, she pulled her key from the door and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. That was another thing she was chastising herself for; Diana had forgotten her gloves that morning, even after repeatedly telling herself the whole time she had been getting ready to remember to take them. She could even picture right where they were sitting on the top of her dresser.

Honestly, Diana didn’t know why she suddenly felt this overwhelming need to pick apart every little thing she’d done recently, and tell herself off for it at that. It was just that the last thing she had expected to be doing tonight was standing outside of Wesker’s house when she had far more important things to be doing.

Dinner together was… unwise. A waste of time. And yet, here she was.

The short walk to his door felt impossibly long, and she looked around the front of his house, taking in the exterior of it like she’d done countless times before. There were no houseplants present to give it life, the doormat was plain black rubber, and although there was room on his porch for a bistro set, or perhaps a bench, it was simply barren. He was always more concerned with the necessities, but it would do him some good to at least add something out here, even just to make it unique compared to the other, almost identical houses it sat amongst.

Despite its decorations, or lack thereof, his proud little house always brought her some comfort. Diana wasn’t sure why exactly. Perhaps because there was some charm to it – or something of the like. Her apartment was nice enough, although a bit cramped for her tastes, but to have a home in this area would be much more preferable; the affluent suburbs on the eastside of the city housed the elite, where she belonged, not some drab apartment building at the centre of commotion.

She shouldn’t be entertaining such nonsensical thoughts anyhow, not when she was simply on a job. Still, two years in Raccoon City and she was stuck with that little thing in Uptown when she deserved much better.

It was of little concern, really; hopefully she wouldn’t be here much longer and she could return to the house she’d purchased as a treat to herself following her “divorce” – though that notion only made her chest feel tighter as opposed to the reassurance she was trying to garner.

As soon as Diana rang the doorbell, her hand retreated to the safety of her warm coat just as quickly as it had left it. There was this churning in the pit of her stomach, telling her something was off, different, and yet she wasn’t sure why. It was only dinner, but to be seeing him again so soon truly was a bit peculiar to her; they usually only ran into one another a couple of times a week, if that.

She was overthinking things again.

But it was his fault for complicating matters between them a few months back. Or so she chose to believe, unwilling to take responsibility for her share of the blame. Although, he was the one who decided to say that she belonged to him in the middle of one of their recent trysts, that she was his, and she couldn’t quite let that go.

It didn’t take long before the front door opened and she was met with a rather worn out looking man, the very same one who had managed to distract her from her work. Wesker was missing his signature sunglasses and Diana found that rather curious; they were almost like a permanent fixture on his face, only really coming off when they slept together, but their absence was something she wasn’t really used to day-to-day.

She was certainly not complaining though. There was something about those icy blues of his that never failed to lure her in.

“Diana,” Wesker said in greeting, a slight hint of surprise seeping into his otherwise dry tone, “I did not expect you here so soon.”

After his eyes scanned over her once more, he simply stepped aside in the doorway with one of his hands gesturing for her to come in. Despite how flat his voice sounded compared to how he usually was with her of late, Diana chuckled as she brushed past him, withdrawing her hand from her coat again to reach out and slowly trail her fingertips up his arm as she did so. That earned her a barely noticeable shake of his head.

“Oh, please. I thought you valued punctuality,” she teased as she abandoned his arm and brought her hands in front of herself to rub them together instead, revelling in the warmth his home greeted her with. “Or perhaps I just enjoy irritating you, always being too early.”

Wesker scoffed while turning away from her to close the door, no doubt trying to stop any more of that dreaded breeze from coming in, but the smirk pulling on Diana’s lips vanished in an instant. A sudden wave of disappointment washed over her at the lack of any of his usual retort to her teasing.

Quietly sighing to herself, Diana turned her back on him in kind, directing her attention towards whatever that scent was that wafted into the foyer. She couldn’t quite place what he was in the middle of cooking, but there was most definitely garlic butter involved, and it smelt divine.

However, that diversion didn’t occupy her for long, because Wesker’s rich cologne decided to invade her senses instead, shortly followed by the light press of his body against her own. She almost leaned back to feel him closer, to slot into the space made for her, as his hot breath warmed her ear, but she managed to stop herself at the last minute.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear.” His voice was low and almost a purr, reserved for only her to hear, and Diana would have rolled her eyes if not for the pleasant shiver that ran down her spine.

It wasn’t like she’d changed her attire since he’d seen her a few hours ago, when he had dropped in to her lab after speaking to William, when he had handed her one of those awful coffees from the cafeteria, and when he had asked her how her project was progressing – the project she should still be working on at the minute.

And she had a sneaking suspicion the wind had left her with more stray hairs than she would like, leaving her looking far worse off than she had that afternoon. So, she didn’t see much reason for his flattery, even if it did make her heart speed up a little.

Wesker left a fleeting kiss below her ear then reached around and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more.

He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it.

He had quite a knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

Diana let out a quiet sigh when Wesker stopped them by the dining table and the pressure on the small of her back lessened ever so slightly. She turned in his hold to look up at him, only to find that his eyes were already wandering over her. Those awfully pretty eyes, no longer concealed by his glasses. What she didn’t expect was for him to reach up with his free hand and brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek, and she cursed the flutter that appeared in her stomach at that.

Wesker cradled her chin and merely looked into her eyes for a moment. How blown her pupils were, accompanied by so much warmth, continued to bring forth conflicting feelings for him; he wasn’t sure whether to be unsettled or esteemed by what he could only call adoration on her part. And he was too tired to worry about it tonight.

In an effort to move on from that train of thought, he brushed his thumb over her chin then left a quick peck on her lips. His hand on her back had lingered for a moment too long as he pulled away from her, but he only withdrew to return to his place at the stove, where he’d been busy cooking before she had arrived.

Diana bit down on her lip when she caught the smile that had somehow managed to work its way there while she had been simply watching him. She found that rather pathetic, in all honesty, but he had a way of drawing such treacherous reactions from her.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a quiet huff to herself, she shrugged her handbag off of her shoulder and placed it on one of the seats at the dining table. That’s when Diana finally noticed that there were three sets of cutlery laid out on its surface.

She quickly glanced over at Wesker, but he was entirely focused on the pans in front of him, so she could only stare at the rather odd display instead. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be joining them when he’d called her, and the absence of wine glasses for once was a bit strange. She would have been annoyed at him for whatever this turn of events was if not for how fascinated she was by it all.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs pulled her from her thoughts soon enough. Soft, uneven steps, as though whoever they belonged to was perhaps skipping down. Another odd occurrence, especially considering the only cars out front were hers and Wesker’s.

The cause of said noise bounded into the open dining area with a hurried glance at the front door then abruptly stopped after catching sight of Diana, hesitating to venture any further in the presence of a stranger.

A little girl.

No more than ten years old, if Diana had to guess. She could have sworn she looked familiar, but from where, she couldn’t quite place. It was right there – the nagging feeling that she knew who this was, sitting at the back of her mind, just out of reach. And it was beyond frustrating.

The girl with big blue eyes that matched her school uniform gave Diana an apprehensive, barely-there smile as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Diana’s staring was no doubt making her uncomfortable, the way her eyes kept darting between her and Wesker was proof of that, but she was too busy trying to piece together who she was to even care.

Suddenly, the girl hurried over to Wesker and latched onto his side furthest from Diana. It was as though she was using him as a protective barrier of sorts, and that was more amusing than it should’ve been. However, the sight that followed next took Diana by surprise.

Wesker placed a hand on the top of her head in greeting, and Diana noticed the way he brushed her fringe aside then carefully tucked one of the many stray blonde strands that had come loose from her pigtails behind her ear. A small smile crossed the girl’s face at that, but she still stayed glued to his side, holding onto his shirt even when he returned to stirring the contents of the pan occupying his attention.

That was weird to Diana; she would’ve expected him to be annoyed by this child hanging off of him while he was in the middle of doing something, but then again, she had no idea who this child was exactly.

For a while, the girl only peeked around Wesker every now and again to look at the tall, frightening woman across the room. This stranger was definitely not who she had expected to see when she had rushed down the stairs at the sound of multiple voices, and it left her feeling somewhat deflated, though much more on edge.

When she tightened her hold on Wesker again, the sound of paper crumpling reminded her of the rolled-up drawing in one of her hands, which she’d completely forgotten about amidst her surprise.

“Oh! Here.” She perked up a little as she freed Wesker’s shirt from her grasp to stand back and unroll the piece of paper, then she proudly presented it to him. “It’s you, mommy and daddy!”

Wesker looked down with a raised brow, and Diana could only watch from afar as he seemed to study the child’s drawing. His head tilted to the side and she could’ve sworn she saw the corners of his lips twitch, even if it was only faint.

“Very good,” he said, tone a touch too dry, but the girl beamed at his praise, regardless. Then Wesker leaned down to whisper in her ear, an elusive hint of mischief laced through his voice, “But why is your father so tall?”

The little girl’s brows knit together in confusion as she stared at him for a moment, then she turned the drawing around in her hands to direct the same gaze to it as well. The way her head tilted to the side was much more dramatic than Wesker’s had been, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she inspected her own art, trying to figure out what he meant.

Looking back up at him after no more than a minute, she giggled then blurted out, “You’re the same height, silly!”

Wesker was almost offended by that little remark, but he only huffed out a quiet chuckle and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. There was a much more pressing matter he needed to tend to instead of getting defensive over a child’s drawing that was obviously inaccurate.

As soon as he turned around, his eyes locked on to his guest – his beautiful, brilliant guest, who was now leaning against the kitchen wall with a slight smile on her lips and her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was an odd state of affairs, that was for sure, but he supposed he’d have to make do with the change of plans. The least he could do was introduce the two of them, or Sherry would probably want to rush off and eat her dinner in the spare room he’d put together for her a while back.

“Sherry, this is Diana,” Wesker said while gesturing a hand in the latter’s direction.

Ah, the Birkin girl. That makes sense. The fact that she hadn’t put that together sooner made Diana feel like an absolute moron, especially considering she’d seen that family portrait on Annette’s desk countless times before. It was painstakingly obvious to her now though, the resemblance to William clear as day – with the nervous energy to boot.

Sherry only turned to look over at Diana as well, and the hesitation from earlier took hold of her once more as she was reminded that there was someone unfamiliar in the house. When she didn’t say anything, only keeping her eyes trained on Diana – as though tearing her gaze away would have unforeseen consequences – Wesker sighed.

“Where are your manners, darling?” he asked, trying to prompt her to introduce herself, but that only made her chew on her lip while she nervously played with the corners of her drawing. It took another quick glance from him before Sherry shifted on her feet and nodded, more to herself in encouragement than in response to him.

“I’m…” Her voice was faint, barely even a whisper, so she paused and took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat before trying again. “I’m Sherry, nice to meet you.” A timid smile was offered afterwards until her eyes went comically wide and she hurriedly added, “Ma’am!”

Diana didn’t want to laugh at the poor thing; it was obvious she was unsettled by her presence. Unless she truly was just shy. Knowing who her parents were though, Diana wouldn’t be surprised if Sherry was raised to look at everyone she met with suspicion. A good way to be, in her opinion, and not entirely unwarranted in this case.

It was a bit strange, however, that Diana hoped the girl didn’t know that she worked with her parents. In a manner of speaking, that is. She couldn’t care less about the G-Virus, or Umbrella, but the Hunters were a fun little project she was very glad she had gotten her hands on. Annette and William were… okay, but they were always at the lab, even hours after she left most nights. She’d never really thought about the ramifications that would have for their daughter before, that she was probably left on her own quite often and not given nearly enough attention.

And that pissed her off.

Perhaps she shouldn’t play the “wicked witch” tonight – a nickname William liked to call her when he thought she couldn’t hear him. There was no reason to make the girl more anxious than she already was. Uncrossing her arms, Diana crouched down, not moving any closer towards Sherry but simply showing her that she wasn’t a threat.

Sherry looked up at Wesker and he nodded. “She doesn’t bite.”

The way his eyes locked on to Diana’s once the words left his mouth, a glint present in those otherwise tired blues, made her clench her jaw in an effort to stop how her lips wanted to pull upwards. She would’ve punched him in the shoulder for that if she was standing next to him, but instead, she could only send a glare his way.

That was rewarded with the smug smirk she’d grown quite accustomed to over the past year, and by God, did she want to wipe that off of his face.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating, he was.

Wesker only tore his eyes from hers to look down at the stove. With a quiet hum, he turned off the burners and spoke in Sherry’s direction again. “Then wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sherry, unaware of their silent exchange, placed her drawing down on the counter and Wesker glanced at it once more from out of the corner of his eye. It was ridiculous, but that image reminded him of what felt like simpler times – when they had all been much closer; William wasn’t as paranoid back then, though still painfully obsessive, and he wasn’t so… fed up, to put it lightly.

Sighing to himself, he reached up to pull three bowls out of a cabinet, but Sherry was still lingering at his side. It took another small nod of encouragement before she walked closer to where Diana was patiently waiting, the woman’s eerie eyes only wandering over her, but that just made Sherry play with her hands again.

Diana forced out a sweet smile in hopes to ease the girl’s anxiety, trying her best not to scare her anymore than she already had, though she wondered how insincere it must look. Truth is, she was just as uneasy around this child as she was around her.

Then she realised that she hadn’t actually spoken since Sherry had wandered into the kitchen. Not even a word. And that probably wasn’t helping matters much. She had simply been too interested in observing the way Wesker interacted with Sherry that she hadn’t even thought to speak up; it would’ve only disrupted the opportunity she’d been given to see him like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d ever get another chance.

“I’m Diana.” She reluctantly held out her hand as she spoke, trying to subdue any disgust that threatened to seep out onto her features.

Oh, how she wished she was wearing her gloves right about now. Children were such repulsive little things in her eyes, always getting their hands dirty then touching everything they could. The smudging of colours on the side of Sherry’s hand certainly wasn’t doing Diana any favours.

A large grin spread across Sherry’s face and her eyes lit up at finally hearing the imposing figure’s voice. Curiously enough though, she mouthed Diana’s name to herself, like she was sounding it out and noting the slight difference in pronunciation from how both she and Wesker had said it, and Diana was quite surprised the girl had even picked up on that. It wasn’t obvious like a certain other pronunciation – which she despised – but Wesker’s was far more… American.

Sherry reached out and tentatively took hold of Diana’s hand, shaking it softly. All Diana could think of in that moment was how fragile that tiny hand felt in hers, and it was weird. Everything happening tonight was weird. Sherry, on the other hand, seemed much more interested in scanning her face now that she could see her up close.

Realising she was still holding on to Diana’s hand, Sherry quickly let it go and pulled her own away like she’d been burnt all of a sudden. While clasping it with its pair in front of herself, she offered the woman another smile. “You’re really pretty!”

Diana actually let out a genuine little chuckle at that, and she didn’t miss the way Wesker glanced over his shoulder to look at the two of them. “Thank you.”

“Uncle Albert?” Sherry turned her head to look over at him and he only hummed in acknowledgement. “Don’t you think she’s really pretty?”

“She is,” Wesker agreed. His voice was softer than it had been all evening, and that, combined with the slight upturn of his lips, made Diana’s heart jump in her chest.

Perhaps she gazed at him for a moment too long, because Sherry curiously looked back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes. Her lips curled up at the corners then she leaned in closer to Diana, almost as if she wished to tell her a secret.

She made no attempt to lower her voice, however.

“Are you Uncle Albert’s girlfriend?”

And that was why Diana chose not to converse with children if she could help it.

Her eyes flitted over to Wesker again, and he seemed a touch more tense than before, jaw clenched and shoulders practically drawn up to his ears. Although he busied himself with serving up their dishes, his movements were rigid, and Diana didn’t know what to think of that. She did, however, feel rather proud of herself for being able to get a read on him when most couldn’t.

That was unfortunate for Wesker though, because it gave her an idea. A terrible one, but an idea, nonetheless.

Diana hunched down a little lower and rounded her shoulders to mirror Sherry’s stance, prompting the girl to shuffle a slight bit closer as her grin widened. “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps you should ask Uncle Albert that question.”

Sherry turned around swiftly on her heels, facing him with renewed curiosity. Diana shouldn’t have thought the whole ordeal hilarious; she was most certainly not his girlfriend, or perhaps she was blissfully unaware that the situation they had found themselves in definitely made her seem as such, but it was simply fun to push his buttons.

The moment the girl opened her mouth to ask him instead, Wesker cut her off before she could even get a chance. “Why don’t you go wash up?”

The bite to his tone made Sherry freeze on the spot; she was as still as a statue, save for her eyes moving between the two adults to scan over them. Little good that did as she couldn’t quite gauge what was wrong. The air in the room felt much heavier than before, hanging around them like a thick fog. Or more like steam, considering how her cheeks began to burn up from shame.

She had only asked a simple question, she didn’t mean to make him mad.

Sherry nodded, a bit too quickly, then hung her head and hurried out of the room. The sigh that sounded from behind her fell on deaf ears as she was too focused on navigating her way to her room instead of the bathroom, counting her steps as she went.

The moment the girl was out of sight, Diana stood up from her crouched position and took a moment to brush any creases out of her skirt. While readjusting the hem to lay straight right above her knees, her eyes stayed fixed on Wesker – or more accurately, his back, now that he’d turned away from her.

You’re no fun, she thought to herself while her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek for merely a fraction of a second.

She crossed the distance between them to position herself at his side, leaning against the counter on her hip while her eyes wandered over his profile. He wouldn’t even look at her. If she knew he was going to get so sour over a little joke, she wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“Are you mad at me?” Diana asked while leaning in closer towards him. The way she spoke was in a far more mocking manner than she should have, the pout in her voice entirely to draw a reaction from him.

Wesker sighed once more then finally looked at her. “No.”

That was all he said before he continued to neatly arrange the dirtied pans and utensils he’d used by the sink, so Diana chose not to push what must be a touchy subject for him any further. He sounded exhausted, and that was the second time that night he hadn’t met her teasing, but at least his tone wasn’t harsh like before. His features had even softened ever so slightly when he’d looked at her – though that didn’t last long once he returned to his task.

Seeing him without his sunglasses like this was really something she wasn’t accustomed to; that made her wonder where they could possibly be if not perched atop that sharp nose of his. Their absence provided her with a sort of confronting view. When they’d fallen into bed, or tangled tongues, or even showered together on occasion, she had never really noticed, but now, outside of the heat of the moment and watching him do something so ordinary, she could see that he was wearing himself thin.

The dark circles under his eyes were quite telling of his position, juggling being Umbrella’s Chief of Security with being thrown into an undercover job that held a title of equal responsibility. Whoever thought that was a brilliant idea was clearly deluded, but Diana knew there was no one else more capable for the role.

It wasn’t her place to pass judgement anyhow. She was technically working three jobs, but it wasn’t really the same. The lines blurred more for her. She only had to send reports back to the company as she did her research within Umbrella, not continue to work in a lab with them as well. And her position at the university was merely a front before she’d head underground and take the cable car to the NEST.

Diana pressed her lips together then looked in the direction Sherry had disappeared off to. That was something she was still immensely curious about.

Tilting her head to the side as she let her gaze fall on him once more, she offered Wesker a subtle smile and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “You don’t seem the type to like children.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, “but she is an exception.”

Wesker said no more than that, clipped and short once again, and not bothering to elaborate any further. But the feeling of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head eventually made him acquiesce with a huff.

“I look after her when her parents are more concerned with their research.”

That harsh bite to his tone was back, and it caught Diana off guard this time. She didn’t realise he held such reservations towards his close friend, though she understood it more than she wished. A child deserves parents who will cherish them – even she could admit that. But she couldn’t tell if the way he spoke was because she had struck a nerve by entertaining Sherry’s questioning, or if the fact that the girl’s parents were so absent in her life actually bothered him. It could have also been that looking after her was taking up his own time when she wasn’t even his responsibility.

Diana reached out and ran her fingertips across his shoulder and towards his jaw. How he held his breath when they travelled up his neck always delighted her, but she only laid her hand flat against the side with her fingers curling around to his nape. After a short moment of her thumb slowly gliding back and forth along his jaw, Wesker leisurely turned his head from where he was still looking down at the sink and met her gaze.

The question in those weary blues drew another smile from Diana, slowly pulling on her lips and near crinkling the corners of her eyes. She lifted her hand and gently hooked her forefinger beneath his chin while pressing her thumb down against it, then she pulled him closer towards herself so she could press a soft kiss to his lips.

It lasted only a second. A brief touch of her lips to his own. But Wesker’s eyes remained closed even once she had withdrawn. His posture was still stiff, muscles pulled taut, and his nostrils flared when he inhaled. The crease between his brows had also deepened due to whatever battle he was fighting up in that head of his, but the last thing Diana wanted tonight was for him to go and believe she was pressuring him into making their “arrangement” more than what it was.

“Relax,” she whispered and he slowly opened his eyes, “I do not care to put a label on whatever this is. I simply enjoy your company.”

Diana was relieved to see the tension in his shoulders and jaw ease up at that, but why the topic was so difficult for him intrigued her. Perhaps his experience with committed relationships was not too dissimilar from her own. Or he truly just wanted something casual with her. Which was fine. And having to confront where they stood with one another was too much of a hassle. She couldn’t agree more.

She let go of his chin to rest her palm on his shoulder. “I only wished to poke fun, but this was… unexpected.”

“It’s fine. It was a joke,” Wesker replied dismissively.

“A joke that made you uncomfortable.” Diana averted her gaze, looking down at her hand instead, where her thumb was brushing along the stitching of his shirt. Then she softly shook her head. “It was in poor taste. We agreed this was… Nevermind. I shouldn’t have overstepped your boundaries like that.”

Wesker’s eyes narrowed as he observed her expression. She didn’t usually apologise for her admittedly endearing behaviour – he gathered that’s what she was trying to do, at least. Besides, if he wasn’t so tightly wound, and hadn’t heard his former partner’s name spoken in passing earlier that week, maybe such a comment wouldn’t have affected him to this extent.

He didn’t need her fretting over something as trivial as this though. It was clearly a slip up on his part, letting a joke like that make him uncomfortable in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Wesker repeated, not as terse as before, yet still more distant than how they had grown to be with one another. “She brought it up and—”

Diana placed her free hand over his clenched fist on the counter; he hadn’t even realised he’d done that. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

That, he was thankful for. She always seemed to know when he wasn’t ready to broach a topic, and she never held that against him. It wasn’t something he was used to; people always liked to pry into his personal matters and press him to open up when he didn’t want to, or when he simply wasn’t ready, but not Diana.

And she could read him so well. William was really the only person besides his sister who could see through him, understand him, and now there was her… Wesker didn’t know what he’d expected asking Diana to join him tonight when he was in a foul mood and she was clearly too busy, but it wasn’t this.

He hadn’t accounted for his whole day to go even further south after lunch either. It was getting harder to think, honestly, and despite being the one to invite her over in the first place, part of him just wanted to go to bed and end the day already.

Wesker reached up and covered the hand still resting on his shoulder with his own, and he gave it a light squeeze. That made warmth bloom from the centre of Diana’s chest, and she didn’t bother suppressing the smile that had managed to sneak its way onto her face. It only deepened when he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of it, before he dropped it just as quickly.

He lifted two of the bowls off of the counter and manoeuvred past her towards the dining table, and Diana lightly shook her head, the smile on her lips not wavering in the slightest. Just like that, a moment ended in an instant. So, she picked up the last dish and followed suit, carefully placing it down where she usually sat.

It wasn’t odd for him to do that, especially not of late, when he would give her a peek into how tender he could be before catching himself, but what was unusual to her was how distracted he seemed. Diana had already gathered that he was tired, sure, but the way he glanced down at his watch, prompting a frown to etch into his features, like cracks in porcelain, made her well aware that something was wrong.

With only a curious look cast his way, Wesker revealed his thoughts to her almost instantly. “William was supposed to pick her up over an hour ago.”

Well then… It seemed as though his friend was definitely the cause of his ire. Whether it was because of Sherry’s wellbeing or because he preferred punctuality, it didn’t matter; it was William who had infuriated him, she only twisted the knife. Or so she believed.

“Oh? And here I thought this little dinner with her was all planned,” Diana playfully teased with a soft smirk pulling up the corner of her lips. That was rewarded with a small chuckle from Wesker.

How he had hung his head with a light nod to it as the quiet sound spilled from his lips brought about that revolting flutter in the pit of Diana’s stomach. She hated that feeling, well and truly hated it, yet she took his reaction as a win; all she could hope for was that her presence could ease the worries nagging at his mind tonight, even just a little. An arrogant belief, some might say, but she knew she could offer a bit of humour when she liked someone well enough.

Wesker’s eyes locked on to hers from across the table and it felt as if the world around them had fallen away, like time itself had stopped. For but a moment, it was just the two of them, no one else existed, and neither dared to move.

Things would be so much simpler if she had just kept her resolve a couple of months back and ended whatever this game of theirs was. She wouldn’t have to deal with these ridiculous reactions her body loved to have around him then.

He broke the stillness first, rounding the table to stand at her back, just like he’d done when he had welcomed her inside. Diana steadied herself by holding onto the top of the chair she should’ve just sat down in when they had walked over, but Wesker simply laid a hand on the side of her hip while the other reached up to brush her hair aside. His hot breath warmed her now-exposed neck, and Diana’s breath caught in her throat.

Like always, the press of his lips was so much softer than she had anticipated.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he whispered as he pulled away.

A single chaste kiss, placed right on the junction of her neck and shoulder. Molten sparks danced across every inch of Diana’s skin, and she was glad Wesker didn’t spare her so much as a glance when he walked past her and disappeared up the stairs; she had no doubt her cheeks were flushed pink, and that was embarrassing enough in and of itself.

She slumped down into her chair, rather unceremoniously at that, and let out a heavy sigh. Tonight would have been much better if she had just declined his offer, gone back to her miserable little apartment, and clinked glasses with that annoying robin that liked to sit and peck away at her window every morning.

Yeah, I want to attack my reflection as well, buddy. She’s a right moron.

Diana directed her attention towards the dish in front of her instead, and that didn’t help. Pasta with garlic butter prawns. Or shrimp, as he liked to correct her so often. That explained the mouth-watering scent she’d been enveloped in the moment she had walked in the door – but why did he have to cook one of her favourites tonight, of all nights? He was making it incredibly difficult for her to hate him.

Where was Sherry and her invasive little questions when she needed her?

The girl was taking much too long in washing up, and Diana selfishly wanted her to come back and distract her from the mess of thoughts going on inside her head. There was also the grumbling in her stomach, much more pronounced now that she���d finally got a proper look at what Wesker had cooked.

She didn’t have to wait long; the sound of a door clicking shut followed by two sets of footsteps made her look over towards the stairs. Sherry was skipping down them again, seeming happier than she had been when she’d left the kitchen earlier, and Wesker trailed behind her.

He rubbed at his forehead as he took his time walking down each step. A stark contrast to Sherry, who triumphantly hopped off the last one then dashed over to the dining table to stand at Diana’s side. She turned in her seat to face the girl, who had a large grin stretched across her face, and was immediately met with a drawing being presented to her this time around.

“This is for you!” Sherry proudly announced, holding the drawing out at arm’s length.

Diana felt frozen in place. She didn’t really know what to do in this sort of situation, and it was honestly rather puzzling to her that this little girl was raised – loosely speaking – by parents such as hers. Her cheerful and sweet nature seeped out through the cracks in her timid and distant demeanour, like rays of light shining from beyond the clouds on an overcast day. Why that disturbed her, Diana wasn’t sure. Perhaps because she felt as though this girl’s light may be extinguished given the hand she was dealt, that she would grow up and lose this spark.

Swallowing to rid herself of the horrid feeling sitting at the base of her throat, Diana reached out and carefully took the drawing from Sherry’s hands.

It was cute… That, she couldn’t deny. The image was of herself and Wesker – at least, that’s who she inferred the man with yellow hair and sunglasses was.

Upon further inspection, Diana noticed that the miniature versions of the two of them were holding hands, and that made her lips turn up far too easily. The last thing she would’ve expected a child to pull from her was a genuine smile, and over a drawing, of all things.

Diana looked back up at Sherry, though her fingers still danced over the back of the paper, almost as if she didn’t want to part with it just yet. “Thank you, Sherry.”

“Do you like it?” Sherry bounced on her feet as she spoke, and it hit Diana then.

She was once this little girl… So eager to show off what she was passionate about only for her parents to pay her no mind, to not care, so she would show anyone who took even the slightest interest – anyone who was remotely nice to her.

It damages a child, to have parents who are rarely home, who leave them to their own devices so often, then never show concern for their wellbeing. Her parents were like that: indifferent and absent for long stretches of time. And when they were home, Diana was made to feel like a bother. She hadn’t realised how much that had all affected her until she was in her twenties, when it was too late.

That was something she didn’t think much of anymore. It was easier that way. But for it to crop up tonight, amongst everything else… This visit had truly not panned out the way she had expected.

Diana placed the drawing down on the table and allowed her smile to properly take up residence across her face. It was the least she could do for the little girl. “I do. You are quite the artist.”

Sherry beamed at that before she hurried over to her seat; how her eyes lit up brought Diana a feeling similar to that of when she accomplished something with her work. It wasn’t quite pride, but more gentle and comforting. Fulfilling.

The moment Diana turned back to face Wesker, she was met with his eyes already firmly fixed on her. The unreadable look in them made her narrow her own, trying to prompt some clarification from him, but he only offered her this soft, almost appreciative, smile – as faint as it was.

And she returned the gesture in kind.

Dinner together was uneventful, devoid of their lengthy debates or discussing what had occurred for the both of them since seeing each other last. Diana’s teasing was also completely out of the question due to their little guest, who actually tried to bring up their relationship status out of nowhere once again. That ended in Wesker having to explain to her that not every woman who was in close proximity to him was his girlfriend, and yet Sherry had pressed on.

“But you really like her!”

Diana had tried not to laugh. The last thing she wanted was for Sherry to send him into cardiac arrest over whatever his troubles with relationships were. As harmless an inquiry it was, she understood the weight it could hold.

Wesker, on the other hand, wasn’t so dismissive. He had caught himself almost worrying over this conclusion Sherry had come to – if it actually held weight.

Sure, he enjoyed Diana’s company more than he cared to admit, and he often got too jealous for his own good when others showed an interest in her, but he didn’t consider her his girlfriend. That was such a juvenile term. Had he thought of her as a lover, or partner, from time to time? Unfortunately. But it was quite obvious to him that she preferred their “no strings attached” sort of arrangement.

They did spend an awful lot of time together though.

That didn’t necessarily mean they were together. Absolutely not. She was fascinating is all, and he found her games to be quite fun. Whatever attraction he had to her would fizzle out soon enough, as soon as he got bored – a blatant lie he liked to tell himself, considering how much it had bothered him when he was without her for a month, and the fact that said attraction had been going on for over a year at this point.

They were almost finished with their meals when one of the landlines went off; the shrill ringing made Wesker’s eyes squeeze shut of their own accord, though for merely half a second. He sighed as he stood up to go and answer it, and one of his hands smoothed down Sherry’s hair as he passed by her.

It was late, and the poor girl looked as though she was going to fall asleep right at the table – fork in hand and all. Diana wondered if she had a bedroom in Wesker’s house that she could stay in for the night; she had no doubt Sherry’s parents had stayed at work until dawn on occasion, so surely he had something arranged for her whenever such an incident occurred. At least, she hoped so.

She watched the way Sherry was staring off in the direction Wesker had gone. The side of her hand was resting on the table, fork in a loose grasp between her fingers and merely sitting on the food left in her bowl. Diana slowly reached across the table and gently tapped one of her fingers on the surface beside it a few times to capture her attention.

“Finish up your dinner,” she quietly said, keeping her voice softer for the girl once their eyes had met.

Sherry nodded and looked back down at her food before she began picking at it. The utter dejection in her eyes shouldn’t have made Diana’s heart crack in two. Since when did she care about the feelings of children? The girl’s low spirits could easily be attributed to how tired she was, and what a long day she had been through seeing some strange woman in a space so familiar to her. It certainly wasn’t because of her situation that hit a little too close to home for Diana… That was absurd.

However, Diana did really want to give the girl’s parents an earful the next time she saw them in the lab.

She glanced over to where Sherry had been looking and caught sight of Wesker in the lounge room, pinching the bridge of his nose while he spoke on the phone. She couldn’t make out any of what was being said, he was too far away for that, but he looked even more frustrated than before.

Wesker let out a heavy sigh before he said what was barely even a farewell and hung up. Diana noticed how his jaw clenched for a second, before he shook his head. He made his way back over to the table and Sherry looked up at him expectantly; her eyes were open wide and a hopeful smile was scarcely contained at the corners of her lips.

“Your mother is on her way,” he said, then cocked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you go and gather your things?”

Sherry’s brief excitement vanished in an instant then. “Daddy said he’d pick me up.”

The words had barely left her mouth they were so quiet, but Diana could recognise the resignation amongst the hurt. This wasn’t new. It was as if the girl was used to this, like she had accounted for the possibility but had still held onto a small glimmer of hope, and that bothered Diana far too much. She had been trying so hard to convince herself that the situation wasn’t that bad.

“I know, darling.” Wesker placed his hands on her shoulders once she had slipped out of her chair. He slowly rubbed up and down her arms for a moment, in some futile attempt to comfort her, before he guided her towards the stairs. “Go on.”

The two of them watched Sherry drag herself out of the room, making no attempt to properly lift her feet as she walked. It made for a dreadful sight, honestly, one Diana wished she hadn’t seen. She waited until Sherry had gone up the stairs, where she was sure the girl was well out of earshot, then she looked up at Wesker.

“Does this happen often?” she asked, keeping her voice relatively low, yet unaware of how much concern was dripping off of her words.

Wesker sighed for another time that night, and slowly nodded as he sat back down across from her. That was all he offered on the matter, simply settling back in his seat instead, and silence washed over them.

It wasn’t awkward per se, things rarely ever were with them, but the whole mood in the house had shifted once more.

Wesker closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it on the top of his chair. Diana couldn’t quite discern whether that was from frustration, exhaustion, or if he was possibly in pain, considering how she noticed him wince at the ringing earlier. Perhaps it was a mix of all three. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited her over in the first place, because even if Sherry’s being there hadn’t been planned, his exhaustion seemed to her as the result of a few nights of disturbed sleep, not just one day’s events.

He cleared his throat then looked around the kitchen, his eyes scanning over every surface in sight, as though searching for something. Diana let her own follow the path his took, but nothing seemed out of place to her. The crease between his brows had deepened though, and it almost looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

When it was clear to him that whatever he was looking for was nowhere to be found, Wesker turned his gaze on Diana instead. “Will you stay tonight?”

Diana’s body almost betrayed her in letting a grin slip out onto her lips and make itself known to him; such a question shouldn’t have pulled that sort of response. Instead, she contained that treacherous smile and only sighed with a slight raise of her brows.

“I hadn’t planned to,” she said with a shrug.

She propped her elbow up on the table’s surface and rested her chin on her palm, leaning forward slightly – closer towards him. They only held eye contact with one another, and Diana couldn’t shake the thought that maybe he was actually in pain, judging by the tension tugging at every one of his muscles. 

With that, she gave him a glimpse of her thinly veiled smile then added, “And you’re tired.”

Wesker let out a small laugh as merely an exhale while he nodded in an unhurried manner. That was for the best, he supposed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked, really. So, he looked off to the side again and let his eyes scan over the lounge room this time, cursing himself in the process as he tried to retrace the steps he’d taken since that afternoon.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His head snapped to look back at Diana and his eyes were instantly drawn to her own, locking on again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. How gently she had spoken caught Wesker off guard, but the question itself… He chewed on the inside of his cheek then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yes.”

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just�� let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 15)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Broken glass

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much

Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.

You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.

It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.

Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.

So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.

The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.

So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.

You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.

Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.

It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.

There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.

And then it happens.

The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.

It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.

It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.

Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.

Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.

It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-

Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.

Rebecca B.

It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.

Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.

This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.

This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.

The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.

The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.

But there is nothing you can do.

Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.

This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.

But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.

You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.

He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.

You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.

Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.

You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.

When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”

And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.

He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.

Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.

You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.

Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?

But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.

You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.

This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

The wrong line.

Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.

The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.

He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.

Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.

At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.

You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.

You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.

And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.

He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?

The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.

A sob comes out instead.

It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.

You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.

More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.

Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.

Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.

You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.

You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.

It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.

Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.

You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.

Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.

The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.

You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.

Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.

But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.

His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.

You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.

Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.

But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.

Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.

“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.

Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.

“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.

Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.

But they keep coming.

“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.

His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.

Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.

“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”

You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.

You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”

There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.

Because he already knows.

He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.

There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.

There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.

Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.

It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.

It’s for you.

You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.

Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.

Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”

Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.

His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.

He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.

“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”

He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.

And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.

It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.

But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.

Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.

You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.

Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.

His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.

His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.

So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.

The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.

Whole.

It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.

For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.

God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.

A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.

But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.

His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.

“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.

You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.

“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.

“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.

“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.

“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.

The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.

You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.

But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.

“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.

“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.

“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.

Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.

You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”

“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”

That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.

You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.

“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”

You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.

You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.

It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.

Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.

Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.

But it still isn’t there.

Not even close.

It’s the opposite, really.

[retroellie]

Little black dress

Summary: After wearing a little black dress that gave nothing to the imagination, Daryl decides to drag you to the bathroom and remind you who you belong too.

A/N: It's been awhile y'all! Omfg, I have been so busy writing a book that started out as a passion project but now I'm like really into it lol. But this is filth, and honestly took me 6 days to write no mf joke. It didn't really read through it so it might be messy lol, anyways miss y'all!! enjoyyy <3 (also it is so fucking long, omfg...I'm used to writing long chapters in my book HKAHKSHFJA)

Warnings: Sexual harassment, public sex, face fucking, unprotected sex, BDSM, mentions of SA (kinda?), just men being gross tbh, dirty talk

Word count: 13.7K

It had been years since you actually had to worry about what you were wearing, even longer since you had to dress presentable. But here you were, caressing every inch of your body trying to decide if your short black dress was "presentable" or plain slutty. You were teetering towards plain slutty, the way it hugged your curves slightly... showed a bit too much of your scared-up legs, you're breast perking to attention as if they were made just for it.

You examined your body, wondering what everyone would say if you showed up to something so classy wearing this. The dress code was nothing special, "Halloween costumes and formal!" the flyer said. You had nothing that would be considered either of those, maybe you're old bloodied shirts from before the commonwealth... you could dress like a walker. However, you had to look approachable... as if you were a reporter of some sorts.

You sigh softly, brushing your hair from your face as you exited the bathroom. You don't even know why you cared so much, it's not like you actually wanted to go to this stupid ball. You were only going because you were helping Connie out with her story. You promised her that you would talk to some people there, and write down their opinions of the commonwealth. You told her you would look presentable and approachable, something you didn't look very often.

"Plain slutty" wasn't a bad thing, before the fall you would dress that way on a night out anyway... But you weren't who you were back then. You didn't want all the male or female attention, especially in a new town like this. They would whisper, they would gossip... no matter how pretty you looked in your cheap dress, you knew they would be merciless.

You walked to yours and Daryl's shared room, grabbing your bag you've had since the fall... it didn't match the outfit at all but you needed something to remind you who you actually were. You placed the bag on your shoulder, turning around only for your attention to be drawn to something shiny on your bed. Your husband's knife...

"At least Daryl will be there." You thought to yourself, biting your lip softly as you stared down at the knife. This new life has been a fairytale almost, almost like the entire apocalypse thing never actually happened... like you and Daryl were just a normal married couple with normal problems. It was so weird worrying about small things again, like what you were going to wear for this stupid masquerade ball.

You two had been "married" since you became a part of the commonwealth. It was strange, especially since everyone called you "Mrs. Dixon". You had been with Daryl for around 7 years, but you weren't married. However, when coming to the commonwealth there was an option for you two to be married "legally". You couldn't help but laugh when they brought it up, there was no government, and there was no "marriage" anymore. They were dead serious though, looking as if you were crazy when you laughed in their face. But you signed the papers basically stating yours and Daryl's "marriage"... so now you guys just are.

Daryl was a security guard at the ball, leaving much earlier than you to go do his job, so he had yet to see the way the dress showed off what was his. Suddenly your mind went another way, remembering the last time you wore a low-cut shirt or too short shorts... It was a decision that had you wobbling for 3 days, kiss bitten down to your calves and completely fucked. You blushed at the thought of it, hoping you could get through the night without Daryl scolding you for the too-short dress. Maybe you wanted that... maybe you wanted to tease him.

Daryl was completely comfortable in the relationship, he had no real problem with you showing your body off sometimes. But if anyone knew how a man could think, it would be Daryl. He knew the disgusting thoughts that would go through a man's mind when they saw a woman's upper leg... He knew just how they could spin that to make it sexually gratifying. It made him sick to his stomach knowing what men think when they see you... he fucks his anger out, hard and fast just like how those men think they can do to you... only he's the one doing it.

You shook the thought away from your head, making your way down the hallway of your dingy apartment. You realized how sad and depressing your apartment was, you made a mental note to get some art or posters to hang up... you needed to make this apartment into a home, or at least something ya'll feel safe coming home to. You passed by Judith and Rj's room, peeking in to make sure everything was in check... "in check" meant there was no one or thing hidden within it. The fall had done that to you, made you cautious, and made you the type of person to make sure each room was clear before leaving. Even though you personally went through every inch of the house trying to find RJ's hat just this morning... you just had to make sure there were no changes.

You finally were able to leave the apartment after making sure the door was locked 4 times. It was a short walk to the ball, about a 7-minute walk, but with heels on it was 15 minutes. You were never much of a heel walker before the fall, you envied women who could... but you never got that walk down. You would have killed to look so classy in heels, but you never got that kind of feminine gene. So you took it slow, walking with caution as you brought down your foot for each step. You looked stupid, maybe even drunk to some of the passersby.

You finally made it though, only 10 minutes late... but you found Connie and Kelly waiting for you at the entrance. You gave them a small smile, wobbling over to them. You were super close with Kelly and Connie, ever since they stepped foot in Alexandria... you guys were insufferable. So it didn't come as a surprise for Connie to come to you first when she needed help gathering "stories", which really meant gathering dirt about Pamela. You were more than happy to do it, it was something to get you out of the house and even landed you getting an invite to the most talked-about party of the year.

As you wobbled to the 2 women, it seemed as if you took them off guard for a second, completely unrecognizable as they didn't know who you were. It wasn't until you got closer that they saw who you were.

"Y/n?" Kelly asked, almost in disbelief that you could get all dolled up like that. "Jesus I could hardly recognize you with all that... boob."

You looked down at your figure, seeing just how different it was from your usual attire. It was strange being this... naked. You started to feel a bit uncomfortable, almost nauseous as you looked down at your heels. You weren't used to attention, you were but you weren't. You are not the ugliest person out there and you know that, people seemed to think quite the opposite which you didn't really agree with. You would catch people looking at your ass while walking past them or catching a feel of your breast while hiding from hoards.

You were no stranger to that attention, hell that's even how you and Daryl became what you were. Daryl couldn't keep his eyes off your hips and your lumps... that's the only attention you wanted though. The rest of them, it didn't matter to you. You could live without it, you were over wanting that attention just to validate yourself... that was in the past for you.

"what? Is it too much?" You asked, pulling your dress up just for it to almost flash your ass to the world, causing you to pull it back down just for your boobs to pop out again. There was no winning in the dress.

You searched both of the women's faces, hoping they would say all they needed to say. Kelly's eyes were focused on your face, probably noticing the cat-eye look you were trying to do... which used to be your specialty, but now you're out of practice. She was probably not used to seeing your lips so red as well, which that part is what you were most proud of simply because you made the mix yourself. You wondered what she was thinking, maybe you should run home and put on some normal clothes. Maybe this was a bad idea and you should have just stayed home. Connie brought a hand to your arm, bringing you back to reality.

"No! You look beautiful." She signed, making you feel a bit better. "Thank you for helping Y/n."

All of your worries slowly melted away just by this gesture, making you relax a bit. As said before, Connie was one of your best friends, you even learned sign language from her. Ever since you met her, she was always so gentle with you. No one really understood your insecurities or your panic attacks or the reason why you were so damn quiet all the time... but Connie did. She read you like a book, you hated it... but it was nice to know that someone could. Especially someone like Connie who would speak up for you if you needed her to. She knew you could never stand up for yourself.

You just gave her a small smile, nodding your head basically telling her that you were okay and you could do this. It was just for a night and you've taken out hordes, you've bashed a man's head in with his own leg bone before... you can take a night in a skimpy dress, you can take the attention it will give you. Plus Daryl was there, he would kill a man for touching you if he needed to and he has before. So you felt more than comfortable walking into that door and forcing stories out of men to get dirt on their leader.

"Yeah, well I'm your girl when you need to get information out of a man." You said, trying to lighten up the mood even if you were the one who needed some lightening up. "All you need is a small waist and huge knockers, Take notes ladies."

Connie and Kelly both let out laughs, boosting your confidence a bit. You smiled softly at their laughs, looking at the doors and seeing how crowded they were getting. Women in big dresses and men with fancy little tuxedos made their way into the double doors, Some were even wearing their own handmade Halloween costumes. They all were trying to get into the door, only to be met with the security who had to pat them down for weapons and whatnot. You once again felt a wave of relief, knowing you weren't the only ridiculous-looking one there. You suddenly were so thankful for it being Halloween. You sighed softly, putting your smile back on as you looked back at Kelly and Connie.

"We should probably get in before the line gets too long." You spoke, signing as you did so.

You all made your way to the double doors, Connie's hand on your arm as a way to make sure that you knew she was there with you. You appreciated it, this was a big crowd of actual people and you weren't used to that... especially with live people. You knew this night was going to suck, you were probably going to be a nervous wreck by the end of it. But at least there will be alcohol.

“But seriously, Y/N…” Kelly’s voice cut through your distraction, drawing you away from the parade of ridiculous-looking rich people. Her eyes were fixed on you, a playful suspicion lacing her tone. “You don’t strike me as the type to pull off this kind of glam… were you some kind of model or something?"

You just let out a soft laugh, walking up the stairs to the soft light illuminating the doors. You couldn't help but let your mind linger on your past. It wasn't something you were proud of that's for sure, you were a mess. You were freshly out of high school, going to college away from home so it was pretty much guaranteed that you would be doing something you would grow to regret. You would do it all... men, women, drugs, alcohol, partying until the crack ass of dawn.

It was a time in your life that was so confusing and being around people who were half your age, you weren't sure what was right and what was wrong. That phase lasted until you found Daryl, suddenly something inside you switched. He was nothing but soft and gentle with you, at least as soft and gentle as he could be. You meant something to him and that's when you realized that you weren't some drunk college girl that men and women could tear down for their own pleasure. You were someone, and that was enough.

There had been countless nights where Daryl had to carve that fact onto your skin, kiss your soft lips until you could say nothing but who you were, fuck it into you. You had lots to work on, Daryl did too... that's what made you two such a power couple. You worked on your shit together, made sure the other knew where they stood in life... who they were and who they weren't even though multiple untrue things have been drilled into your heads. You let the thought wander through your head before coming back to the moment.

"I am full of surprises." You joke back. You knew you could tell her what you really were back then, you're confused and you're hurt... but you left it at that.

-

-

The night went too slow for your liking, not even halfway through the night you were at your limit with men and you were ready to go home. As you sat at the bar, sipping on some fruity drink one of many men had bought for you, you pulled out your notepad from your dirty bag. It was almost empty, only 3 stories collected simply because the men were too focused on the way your dress laid against your breast. You swore you talked to almost 20 men tonight and only 3 of them actually had the decency to keep their eyes to themselves and answer your questions.

Most of the men didn't want to hear you talk, they just wanted to undress you with their eyes. You gagged at the thought every single time, even more disgusted by how some of them thought it was their right to put their hands on you. You could still feel a hand on the small of your back or placed softly on your hip. This dress started to feel like not a good idea and you should have caved into your desire to change into something different. You will say, that at least a lot of the men bought you drinks... you could have only gotten through this night with "Sex on the Beach" and "Strawberry Daiquiri". You would much rather have whiskey if you were being honest, you had been hanging out with Daryl too much.

You started to read through the notes you wrote down, jotting down some keywords in their stories so Connie could rearrange them for her story against Pamela. You were almost halfway through the second story and your 3rd Strawberry Daiquiri when you felt a hand on the small of your back once more.

"My, my... ya here all by yourself sweetheart?" You heard a deep voice say, you could almost feel their breath on your neck.

You jumped at the sudden touching, yelping as you turned around in the spinny bar chair. You were ready to swing on the perpetrator, you were too frustrated and grossed out to have another man try to get into your pants tonight. You lifted your hand up, ready to slap the shit out of the man... only for your hand to fall back down as soon as it went up.

It was Daryl. His shit-eating grin spread on his face as he chuckled softly at your sudden burst of violence. Little does he know, he's not the only guy tonight to say those same words and touch the same spot just above your ass. You would probably tell him later, but for now, you kept it to yourself... you knew he'd be furious, probably dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you till you couldn't walk properly anymore. The more you think about it, the more you want that to happen.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes softly and leaning against the bar. You were so glad to see him though, you hadn't seen him all night. You tried looking but you were far too busy trying not to get groped by old men or beat up by their wives. You knew this night would have been 100% better if you found Daryl earlier, he would have really made the night somewhat fun or maybe at least been your bodyguard.

"Not alone... My deadbeat husband is somewhere around here." You joke, turning back around to face your notes.

You could hear Daryl chuckle behind you, he set himself between you and the empty chair next to him. He looked down at your notes and your 3 empty cups, he knew these were not your first and definitely not your last drinks of the night... then his eyes trailed down to your dress. You had told him you would be here and what you were doing here, but he didn't know just how you were going to show up. The dress was going to get you in trouble, especially with the way that it caused Daryl's pants to tighten.

His eyes drifted down your body, the sight of your almost bare breast made him almost choke on his own tongue. Daryl watched as you brought the last bit of drink from one of your cups, watching you slurp it down. He let out a soft cough, clearing his throat as if it would clear the thoughts of what those lips could do.

"Deadbeat, huh?" he started, watching you bring the cup back down to the bar counter. You licked your lips, getting every ounce of the alcohol from it. "Well then, your deadbeat husband should be ashamed of letting you go out in something like that."

He brought his hand up to touch the fabric of it softly, placing his hand on your hip and giving it a soft squeeze. You tried to stay up straight, even if the alcohol was creating a glorious feeling between your legs that made you feel like you could melt into his touch. Even the smallest of gestures from Daryl could have you at his feet, just the tiniest softest touch could create a fire deep within you. You were feeling bold tonight though, maybe it was just the 7 drinks you had but something within you burned with the need to be devoured.

You bit your lip softly, feeling the loose skin that resided there. You looked up to him, eyes full of lust. Daryl couldn't help but feel the same kind of fire erupts in the pits of his stomach. Your glazed-over eyes, the smell of the pure alcohol that he knew was affecting your ability to think, the way the black dress was still on you even though he wanted it off. You leaned in close to him, his hand still wrapped around your hip softly.

"if only he was here to put me in my place." You spoke, words flowing off your tongue like honey.

Daryl let out a soft breath, his clothes suddenly feeling so constricting against his skin. He never knew all he needed to do was get a couple of fruity drinks in your system for you to be so... feral. It made all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock, making the head of it rub up against his jeans so uncomfortably. You were everything but a perfect angel... you knew how to talk dirty, you knew how to get Daryl's cock up and ready to pound into the first hole he could get to. But something about the way your tits looked in your dress and every single man wanting to tear you apart with their bare teeth... and yet you only wanted Daryl to fuck you in the ways only these men can dream.

Daryl looked around, being sure of his surroundings before making any stupid decision he knew he would make with you. No one was paying any attention to him... some of the men you talked to earlier were still trying to catch a peak, hoping that maybe your thighs would spread wide enough so they could see just in between them. So they could store it in their minds and use it for spank material when they need a little push. That made Daryl's breath get heavy, hands shaking slightly on your hip as you leaned closer into him... he could smell a hint of your perfume and it was giving him a slight high.

Daryl looked back down at you, seeing your soft stare... watching your eyes move down his body and then back up to his eyes. Daryl placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing it softly as he debated on dragging you somewhere more private. His lips ached, his cock already leaking with need... if anything could make daryl dixon be reckless, it was you. He almost gave into you, almost engulfed your lips with his, and made you whimper... made you his in front of everyone. However, something caught his eye... his abandoned post.

He was supposed to be guarding the door, making sure no one else came in, and making sure everyone was on their best behavior. Rosita was there, on one side of the door as she too watched the dance floor. He had a job to do, a very important one that would have you both moving up in life if he did it right. He shouldn't even have left in the first place, but something about the way your thighs looked from afar... he found himself stalking towards you just to get a better look at them. He let out a soft smile, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before he retracted away from you.

"Ya look beautiful sweetheart..." He said simply, giving your body one last glance before stepping away from you completely. He could feel your energy fall slightly as you groaned at the loss of warmth... your dress did nothing to cover you up, so his warmth was appreciated. "I gotta go do my job, I just wanted to see you before I got too busy."

You wanted to pout, you wanted to kick your feet and scream like a child... that's how drunk you were, you would beg for him if he wanted you to. You didn't find that fair that Daryl could get you going, put his hands on you, and warm you up just to pull away like it was nothing. You were too drunk, too cock starved, too horny to let him leave you like this. Your legs were wobbling already, you're cunt throbbed and every time you would move your legs it would create irritating friction that you wish were from his fingers. You sighed softly, not done with this just yet...

"Well that's too bad..." You said, hopping down from the bar stool. Your dress came up a little too high, showing just below your ass. You pulled it down, which once again caused your breasts to pop out... but this time you wanted them too. You watched as his eyes focused on them. "I'm wearing my best panties... I was really hoping someone could help me put them to use."

You sighed dramatically, grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. Daryl gulped back a comeback because there was nothing good that was going to come out of his mouth. He was torn between two nasty names.... some of the most degrading names he could think of. All he wanted to do was slam you against the bar counter, tell you how fucking slutty and how much of a fucking whore you were... 2 things he knew you loved, he knew it made you weak in your knees just thinking about it. But he had to keep it cool, y'all were in public and he would like to keep those names between the two of you.

You stepped up to him, looking down at his obvious erection... you smirked to yourself knowing just by your words you did that. You looked back up to his eyes, reaching up to adjust the buttons on his shirt and patting his shirt down. You could tell just by his eyes what he was planning on doing to you, you could tell you were in trouble. You leaned up to his ear, standing on your tiptoes just to make sure he was the only one to hear.

"I will be in the men's bathroom if you need me..." You whispered, pecking his cheek with your lips just as he did to you. You swear you could see his eyes twitch, his anger rising within him as you teased him softly. You gave him a soft smile. "I hope to see you soon, Mr. Dixon."

You said, teasing him even further and not giving him any time to even react to your words before you walked away. You could feel some eyes on you as you walked away, except they weren't Daryls... they were the countless men that weren't Daryl, their eyes boring into your skin but you paid no attention... they weren't your target audience right now.

You were able to slip into the men's bathroom without anyone noticing, which was tricky since every man and women's eyes were on you the entirety of the night. You knew you would get some attention but the amount you got was overwhelming... you forget sometimes that a lot of these people have been in the commonwealth since the fall, most never experiencing the horrors just outside of their walls. So when a woman who is covered in scars speaks so confidently to them, it is intriguing. Not to mention the way your body curves, how it dips and stands out so perfectly. Not a lot of women in the commonwealth have that kind of "fighting for your life" kind of body type.

You open the door to the men's bathroom, slipping in before anyone notices you even did. You choose the men's bathroom simply because you knew it would be easier for Daryl to slip into and away from his post for a bit, allowing him some time to fuck the shit out of you. Luckily the bathroom was empty but you didn't spend too much time making sure since you knew someone could walk in at any minute, so you entered one of the stalls and locked it.

The bathroom was one of those nice ones you see in fancy restaurants, the stalls were almost like little rooms that only held a toilet and a trash can. The walls surrounding the toilet were painted a cream color and went all the way to the ceiling down to the floor. These were the types of bathrooms that were perfect for fucking if you're being honest, I mean the privacy... it was almost as if they were made for horny couples who need to let some steam off.

You sat on the toilet, imagining all the possibilities and positions you could find yourself in the small confinement of the 3 walls and door. Your eyes locked themselves on the door which was the only "stall-like" thing in the small area. There was a large gap between the door and the floor, making it so you were able to see the shoes of people who walked by. Luckily you could see none, but the anticipation of seeing those black boots with the mix-match shoe laces... Jesus, you hoped he would come, you didn't even give him time to answer.

In this moment, the anticipation and the hope you don't get caught brought you back to when you and Daryl started seeing each other. while on runs or even around the small time you and the group were on the road... Daryl would get sexually frustrated from watching you, his cock rock hard and eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He would grab your shoulder, bringing his mouth as close to your ear as he could... growling into it that he needed you, ordering you to go to a secluded area and "wait like a good girl" for him. You were so needy for him that you did exactly that, sometimes waiting an hour before he showed up and fucked you into the dirty ground.

That was around the time when your relationship was kept hidden, Daryl's choice. He told you it was because of the 15-year age gap between the two of you, he was worried about the things that would be said about the two of you. It was strange for a 37-year-old man to be romantically involved with a 22-year-old. But deep down you didn't believe his words, you subconsciously knew it was because he didn't want to get close to you. He had this thing with trust, so it came natural for him not to want to trust you at first... he was okay with just fucking you and leaving you limp on the forest floor. However, somehow along the way... he fell so deeply and utterly in love with you, that now he feels ashamed if he has to hide you.

Suddenly, you were pulled from your thoughts when the bathroom door opened. A slight tingle made its way through your body and it wasn't the good kind. You placed your feet on the toilet along with your body, hoping the person didn't see your high heels, and called security to come to escort the woman in the men's bathroom out of the ball... that would be embarrassing. You heard the person's heavy footsteps, not able to see their shoes because of the walls of the small bathroom covering your view. You held your breath, trying to keep yourself quiet as the person made their way to the stalls.

You listened closely to the steps, hearing them walk closer and closer to your stall. Questions filled your mind, did someone see me come in here? Is it one of the men who now thinks this is his chance? Am I completely fucked and was this a bad idea? Fortunately, it didn't take too long for your questions to be answered because when the two heavy-duty work boots with the mix-match shoe laces appeared between the gap of the floor... your body relaxed slightly.

You chuckled softly at your worry, realizing how fucked the fall actually left you. You were expecting Daryl yet your mind went to the worst that could happen... Jesus, hopefully, the commonwealth will ease your paranoia.

Knock

knock

knock

Those three knocks were too familiar to you. It was the knock you and Daryl used when hunting or when you holed up in a random cabin for the night... it was just a way for you two to say "Hey it's me. You're safe.". You smiled softly, standing from the toilet and wasting no time in opening the stall door. The stall door opened to reveal your angry-looking husband, he did not look too happy about the fact he had to fuck some sense into you while he had to do actually important things, like make a living for you two. You couldn't help but laugh softly at his face, how angry he looked... you were feeling the buzz of the alcohol throughout your body and it was hitting hard. You leaned yourself against the door frame, making sure your hips stood out as you did so.

"Mr. Dixon!" You exclaimed, almost as if you weren't waiting like a little dog would for its owner... You placed a hand on your hip, head laying against the door frame. "I didn't expect to see..."

You couldn't even get your words out before Daryl pushed you into the stall, shutting and locking the door behind him. He pushed you against the stall door, attacking your neck roughly. The warmth spread across your body, your body going limp for only a second before you threw your head back onto the stall door you were pushed against.

"Shut up..." He whispered into your neck, biting and sucking at your soft spots. He wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you in place as he worked his mouth on your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying your best to stay up straight as he basically touched you in all the ways you craved. It was fast, very fast as he basically speed ran trying to make you as wet as he possibly could get you. You knew this was going to happen, you basically begged for it to happen... but that doesn't make you any less surprised by his sudden touch. He licked a strip up your neck, biting your ear lobe softly before going back to leaving down your neck... you knew this was his way of marking you up, making sure the mark would show so pretty on your neck in your black dress, scaring away the men's attention.

His kisses led down to your chest, leaving bite marks here and there as he did so. You could come undone from his abuse on your neck, your body arching into him as you tried so desperately to quiet your soft moans. Daryl pushed you further into the stall door before pulling your dress down, exposing your breast to him as he softly kissed down your body. He stopped his kisses, taking a moment to take in your squirming figure and how red you had gotten from just kissing. He leaned down, taking your breast in both of his hands, and squeezed them together before sucking on your already hardened nipples. It all happened so fast, making you not only drunk but also now high off sudden pleasure. Your hands went to his hair, pulling it softly as his soft sucking on your breast sent small zaps of pleasure straight to your clit.

He went back and forth between the right and the left, squeezing one while he sucked and licked the other. Your world was spinning, not sure if it was the 7 strawberry daiquiri or if it was the way his mouth felt on your tits. You could feel yourself getting so close to the edge, embarrassingly close... he barely even touched you and you were almost coming undone in your panties. You gave his hair a particular rough pull, trying to remove his mouth from your nipple... you were too close to the edge, not wanting to cum now... You didn't want to give Daryl an even bigger head than he already has when it came to making you feel good.

"Jesus... Daryl, I'm too drunk for the foreplay, just fuck me." You whispered out, your words shakey as you shivered from the cold air brushing against your now slobbered-up tits.

Daryl detached himself from you, your hands still in his hair as he did so. He tried to hide the smile from you but trust and believe the way you were begging made his own high come to him. He couldn't tell which one of you was drunk, and he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol this entire night. You leaned against the stall door, the lock from the door digging into your back. You squirm underneath his gaze, feeling his hands make their way back to your waist. Your tits are still standing to attention, red and puffy from his kisses.

You breathed heavily, looking into his lust-filled eyes as he brought his face closer to yours. You could feel his breath fan across your face, the smell of your shared toothpaste bringing memories of the nights you would have together in your small apartment... All the nights spent bent over the sink as he rammed his cock into you, praying Judith and rj were asleep, or even the days where you two just had to be with each other. So you filled the bath, lit some candles, and spent hours making out with each other... no fucking, no dry humping, no cumming onto each other. Just you two, taking in each other's presence and exchanging saliva.

"You beggin' me?" He whispered, lips hovering over yours as he spoke. You debated on reaching up, touching his lips with yours... speeding this entire thing up. But you couldn't deny you loved a long drawn-out fucking session in a fancy bathroom.

"No..." You teased, smiling up at him as you brought your face even closer. Your eyes make their rounds from his lip back to his eyes. "Simply asking for a favor."

You had a way of getting underneath Daryl's skin in the most delicious ways, with your innocent-looking eyes and your silky smooth voice. He knew better though, he knew you were far from innocent. Not only have you done things, murderous things that to this day you will never be able to repent from... but also sexual things that have the angels crying. You have allowed Daryl to fuck you on the dirty floor of an abandoned cabin while your people were only mere inches away from you. You have fucked him while covered in blood, even going as far as to cover yourself with more blood because it turned you on so much. You have asked to be held at gunpoint while you sucked his cock, asked to ride the handle of his knife, asked to be slapped in the face until your nose bleeds.

You liked pain, you loved every ounce of it and it was heartwarming that you trusted Daryl enough to be so open with these things... but it was disgusting how you did these disgusting things with such innocent eyes. However, Daryl was a sucker, because he did everything you asked him to with a smile on his face. He never knew he held such a disgusting pervert deep down inside of him until he came the hardest he ever had while fucking you by a trapped walker. Although, with age and the further you got into the relationship, you both settled down a bit. You two were so fucked for each other, you were basically cumming at the sounds or each other's names.

"Real cute... Just asking for a favor huh?" Daryl mocked, his hand running down to the top of your cunt... stopping so he could watch your squirm. He had other plans than to give you what you wanted, you guys were already fucking in a public restroom while hundreds of people were outside.. might as well go the full mile right? "Well then, you're gonna have to ask a lot better than that sweetheart. Knees."

He didn't have to say anything more than that before you were dropping to your knees. Daryl could cum from just knowing you would do anything for him in a heartbeat, especially sucking his cock when he wanted you to. You were never the type to turn down sucking his cock, you loved watching him come undone on your tongue... you even thought he looked so much more pretty at the angle.

You stared up at him with big eyes, your lips red from you biting them and your tits hanging from your dress. Daryl hummed in contentment, reaching down to wrap a hand through your hair as you looked up at him innocently. He ran a soft hand through at first, making sure you knew you were safe with him... making sure you were okay with what was happening. You nodded softly, a way for you to say "I am okay with this". He shot you a soft smile, running a hand once more through your hair to get it out of your face.

It started off so soft, it always started off so soft because you brought out this softness in Daryl... a softness he had never known he had until he met you. But it always ended up rough, because that is how Daryl loves and that is how you love it. Daryl suddenly gripped your hair, a tight grip that had you gasping and wincing. You groaned softly, chuckling softly at his sudden outburst... you knew you were about to get destroyed and in such a pretty dress.

"Want you to suck my cock..." he said, keeping hold of your hair but reaching down to the top of his pants. He unbuttoned them, almost ripping his belt off as he did so. "Gonna cum all over your pretty little face, then maybe I'll fuck that hole of yours."

You watched up at his hands as he unzipped them, pulling them down slightly so only his cock could come out. The sight of it almost had your mouth watering, not able to think coherent thoughts as you watched it twitch slightly. It was rock hard, the tip already covered in precum and flush red as it desperately craved friction. You knew your teasing left him desperate, and needy for your touch… but it’s as if you hadn’t touched him for days which was not true. You could not keep your hands to yourself around Daryl, so fucking was an everyday thing.

Daryl watched your eyes go wide at the sight of it, his grip on your hair tightened which pulled your attention away from his cock and back to his eyes. He couldn’t help but pump himself a few times, more precum dripping from the tip as he did so. You smirked at him which told him you weren’t done with your teasing.

“Is that any way to speak to your wife?” You asked, your words making his cock twitch even more. "Bet none of those men out there would ever talk to me like that..."

As said before, you had this way of getting under Daryl’s skin… and a little part of you enjoyed the way it affected him. It caused this fire within him that you were able to see from the outside, it was a small change in his demeanor, a small twitch of his eye that was probably only noticed by you. It was that small change that had you slightly terrified but completely and utterly exhilarated. That is the main purpose you teased him the way you do, just to see that small fire build up inside of him until he couldn't take it anymore and he just snapped. You were able to get him into so many dirty positions with that fire, so many nasty things just because of your teasing words.

Daryl's hands shook slightly, a slight hint of jealousy coursing through his blood. He gripped your hair harder, pulling some of it out, as he tried to stop his hand from shaking so much. He pulled you closer to his cock, causing a soft yelp to escape from you. His cock was now laying on your cheek, twitching softly.

"Well, those men don't know you like I do..." He said, pumping his cock one last time before setting his hand on the base of it. "They don't know my wife is a horny sex fiend who can't shut her fucking mouth... open."

You didn't have to be told twice, your mouth opening, and Daryl didn't give you any notice or any warning before he shoved his cock almost completely into your mouth. You held back a gag, feeling the head of his cock in the back of your throat already. Daryl kept your head in place, watching you fight with the urge to gag and recoil back from his cock. He can not deny how much pleasure it gave him to see you in pain, obviously the good kind of pain. The consensual pain that you allowed him to give you and enjoyed every single bit of it.

Daryl stayed still for mere seconds, allowing you to get used to the feeling of a cock in your mouth. You eventually allowed your throat to relax, looking up at him with your watery eyes as you went further down his cock. You wrapped your lips around him, staring him right in the eye as you took his entire cock in your mouth... until your nose was buried into his happy trail. Daryl almost collapsed, seeing the bulge in your throat... he could cum down your throat at this moment.

"good girl... good fucking girl." He said, trying his best to keep you like that for a couple more seconds so he could burn this image in his brain for later use.

He knew that you would be giving him that shit-eating grin that you usually give him when you get a big ego... but you couldn't since his cock was down your throat and you were loving every second of it. Once Daryl stored every single detail of how angelic you looked right now, he pulled your head back with your hair. As he pulled back your head, his slobbered-up cock was revealed... this would be another thing he would store in his mind for later.

Daryl didn't keep your head off his cock for long before he slammed your head back down on his cock, once again forcing his cock down your throat and causing you to want to gag again. You couldn't get used to it this time, you weren't able to stop yourself from gagging before Daryl pulled your head off his cock once more but like he did the last 2 times... he forced your head down on his cock once again. You couldn't help but feel your cunt flutter away as your throat was burning slightly. It was a delicious kind of burn, the taste of his cock making its way down your throat.

before you could even almost gag for a 3rd time, Daryl pulled your head away and then slammed it back down. Now his movements were quick, his cock massaging your throat as you just kept your mouth open and your lips wrapped around his cock. You dug your knees into the bathroom floor, your hand holding onto his thighs as you allowed him to use you like a literal sex toy. You felt so degraded, so disgusting... but you wanted more, you needed more. The feeling of someone walking in excited you even more, knowing that any of those men from earlier can walk in just to relieve themselves and be met with the sounds of gagging... gagging from the woman that they wished would do the same from them.

The thought of that alone, the look on their face as they realized what the gags actually were. The cold sweat that runs through their bodies, the red tint that spreads across their cheeks, the inevitable boner that pops up simply because they imagined how you looked while doing such a disgusting thing. You didn't mind someone walking in and that alone left a sense of shame within your stomach, you begged for it really. You knew it could lead to Daryl losing his job, knowing how they would look down on him because he left the partygoers he was supposed to be protecting so he could get a blowjob from his wife in the bathroom. But you would risk it all. The sudden burst of shame and excitement and complete lust caused you to bob your head along with Daryl's hands. Setting your hands on his ass so you could force him into your throat yourself.

"God... fuck, such a fucking whore huh?" Daryl moaned, keeping his hand entwined with your hair. He looked down at you, watching you work his cock in and out of your throat like it was nothing... your slobber dripping from every crevice of your mouth and onto your already spit-covered tits. "Ya like my cock in your mouth, the only thing you're good for huh?"

The degradation of it only made you speed up your movement, the sounds of your choking and gagging filling the air completely. You kept your eyes on Daryl, watching as he finally pulled his attention away from you and lost himself to the feeling. He threw his head back, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to steady his breathing. You looked up at him like he was some kind of god and in this moment... he was to you. You would have licked the floor he walked on if he asked you, in this moment and in any. Daryl was the closest thing to god you have ever believed in, because how can someone so fucking perfect be real? He must have been made from everything good in the world, like candy or fresh laundry.

You got too ahead of yourself, feeling Daryl pull your head back roughly as your rhythm becomes too sporadic, too messy. Daryl pulled your head completely off his cock, a string of salvia was now the only thing connecting you and him now. Your throat burned, it ached as you coughed softly... trying to catch your breath as you waited for what he was going to do next. When Daryl was in these moods when the fire sparked within him, he was unpredictable and that made your liquids leak from your cunt.

Daryl had a plan to destroy you completely and he was going to go through with it. You weren't going to be able to talk to another man without thinking of what Daryl would do if he saw you... you won't be able to speak for the next few days to come, or walk, or get out of bed. He was going to completely fuck you. Daryl took the base of his cock once again, placing his cock back on your cheek... watching it cover your face in your own saliva. You chuckled softly, closing your eyes as his cock drenched your face with spit. That soft chuckle made Daryl's blood heat up again, he didn't want you to laugh... he wanted you to beg for his mercy, cry so hard that you could barely speak, he wanted you to be a ruined puddle on the floor.

"Sit on your butt, head against the wall." He demanded, pulling your hair back and giving your face a harsh slap as a way to tell you that you would regret it if you didn't.

You did what you were told, sitting flat down on the floor and laying your head back on the stall wall. Daryl moved closer to the wall, so one of his hands was resting on the stall. There was only a small gap between the wall and Daryl, you between the both of them. Daryl's cock slid across your face once again, his hand pumping it softly as he made it so you were between his legs.

"Tap on my thigh if you need me to stop." He said softly, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. He was planning to destroy you, but if you genuinely needed him to stop he would in a heartbeat. "Okay?"

You nodded, repeating back a little "okay" before giving him a soft smile. You adjusted yourself so you were closer to his cock, sitting so you were face to-face with it. You were so ready... your mouth begged for it.

"Alright, sweetheart." He reached down, pulling your mouth closer to his cock as he bent his knees slightly. "All you gotta do is keep your pretty little mouth open for me alright?"

You nodded, opening your mouth once more. Daryl smiles, watching you so eagerly waiting for him. He let you catch your breath for a few more seconds, not wanting to completely overwhelm you all at once. But before you knew it, Daryl's cock was back in your mouth... his thrusts started slow. He allowed you to get adjusted to his cock once more, choking slightly as it hit the very back of your throat.

He didn’t wait too long though, after a few soft thrusts he didn’t go so nice on you. His thrusts became rough and fast, his cock slipping in and out of your throat, making your head almost bang into the stall every single time. As his cock assaulted your throat, hand wrapped in your hair as he used it as a way to keep your head back so he could fuck your throat until it ached, he imagined the way the men looked at you.

He saw you from afar all night long, watching you closely as you collected your stories. You pulled your dress down throughout the night, your tits looked heavenly under the softly yellow light. Then you would pull your dress up, revealing skin inches away from your lace black underwear. It was almost as if you were playing with him, making him a hot mess at his post. Then there were the men, all looking everywhere but your eyes... trailing down to the necklace he had found for you, but not staying there very long before looking directly at your tits. They had no shame, they slowly undressed you with their eyes and you knew it.

His thrust became even faster, your nails digging into his thighs and your eyes watered... Your choking and gagging only egged him on more as he violently banged your head into the wall. You loved every second of his abuse, throat throbbing and raw but so was your cunt. You were clenching around nothing, rubbing your thighs together to get some kind of friction. You would even go as far as to say... you were just as close as Daryl. You could cum from the sight of him alone, that's all you needed for your cunt to feel satisfied.

You could sense his orgasm nearing, his moans started to intertwine with your gagging and choking. He had to keep his hand on the wall to balance himself as his legs started to shake violently, thrust getting messy as you started to lick the vein of his cock so softly with what control you had, his hand gripping your hair roughly. If his cock wasn't in your mouth right now, fucking your throat till it bled... you would be begging him to cum down your throat, wanting to taste his salty seed as he came undone from fucking your face.

"So fucking close baby... so close." He groaned softly, trying to keep his voice below a whisper but the feeling of your velvet throat made him lose control of his own voice. "gonna fucking cum."

You hollow your cheeks, closing your lips around his cock and running your tongue down his shaft. You could feel his cock twitch on your tongue, basically begging to cum. Daryl continued his fast, rough thrust... the knot in his stomach was thrust away from bursting and you did everything in your power to send him over the edge, you craved to see the way his face contorted into pleasure as he came... how his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth opening into a slight O shape, his entire body shaking softly.

Suddenly, just before his breaking point, Daryl pulled his cock out of your mouth. You couldn't help but whine softly at this action, your throat needing to feel his warm cum slide down it. Daryl took his cock in his hand, pumping it at the same pace he was fucking your throat. It only took him a good 3 or 4 pumps before hot strings of cum shot out of his cock, landing directly on you. He milked his cock, watching as it spurted on your cheeks, your nose, almost into your eye but you closed them before it could.

"Fuck..." He let out, huffing as he leaned against the wall... his cock still in his hand as it twitched, almost overstimulated now.

You stayed underneath him, your cunt throbbing in your panties. You were sticky with Daryl's cum, with your own spit, and your sweat. You felt disgusting, you felt so disgusting that not even 10 showers could wash away this feeling... this degrading, embarrassed feeling. But somehow, your cunt still screamed for Daryl's abuse. You looked up at Daryl, his cum now dripping from your face as you did so. He looked so tired, so out of it as his orgasm still sent soft shocks down to his cock. You've noticed as he's gotten older that he has had to take more time to recover from his orgasms, it really takes it out of him.

You remembered when you first started fucking him, Daryl wore you out before he could even think about stopping. After every single nut, he would be hard all over again. It was heaven, but also physically draining. Now in your older age, you would much rather 2 or 3 long drawn-out rounds more than multiple quick fucks. Your and Daryl sexual relationship has come a long way, from quick fucks to long passionate, and kind of perverted sex. It was kind of sweet to you in a way, how you both experimented with each other and picked and chose what you liked and what you didn't. It was something no one in the past would have done for you, it was why you "married" Daryl in the first place.

"So beautiful..." Daryl said, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was caressing your face, wiping away his own cum while he did so.

You blushed softly, leaning into his hand... kissing the palm of it softly. Daryl was always so nice afterward, so gentle and sweet. Nothing like he used to be, so distant and cold... not even helping to clean you up. However, as sweet as this moment was... in a weird and fucked up way, your cunt still throbbed. You still needed your cunt stuffed, still needed it fucked raw to match your sore throat. So you dug deep into your chest, trying to find your voice and force out of your beaten voice box.

"Are you up for round 2 or are you gonna need some time to recover?" You teased, your voice raspy and almost barely there as your throat was quite literally broken.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle, placing his head on the hand that was keeping him upright. Daryl was never the type of person to leave you all high and dry, even if you truly deserved it. He would always give you what you wanted, only he would give it to you over and over and over again until you begged him to stop. He loved watching you cum as much as you loved to cum, so he couldn't deny you the very thing he held dear to him.

Daryl finally was able to get his legs to stop tingling as much, pushing himself off of the stall wall. He now stood inches away from you, just needing to see you in your entirety. You were drenched in his cum, legs sprawled out and shaking on the dirty bathroom floor, your tits hanging from your dress, your hair matted to your forehead and neck... you already looked so destroyed, but you wanted more? He could never understand the pleasure you got out of being destroyed, he loved it too... but being in such degrading positions? Maybe that's why he was the one giving it to you.

He reached his hand out for you to grab it. You did it in a heartbeat, struggling to stand up but balancing on his arm as you did so. He took you softly into his arms, holding you up with one arm as he wiped more of his cum off your face. He slowly brought his knee up to your cunt, you gasped softly as it made contact with your puffy clit. You wanted to move your cunt up and down it, feeling the delicious friction it would give off... but you knew how much of a dick Daryl could be and how easily he would tease you, denying you of his actual cock.

"Old man huh?" He chuckled, still holding you close to his chest. He could feel your heartbeat in not only your chest but also your cunt that was throbbing against his knee. "I'll show you an old man."

He suddenly turned you around, shoving you into the stall door so your face was flat on it and your ass was pushed out. You yelped as he did so, feeling his hands pull your panties down... he wasn't going to take it slow with you this time, he wasn't going to ease you onto him and let you adjust yourself. No, he was going to continue to teach his lesson... make sure it was carved into your brain that what's his, is his, and if you allow another man to look at you like a hungry bear would to his prey... you'll know what happens.

Daryl pumps himself in his fist a couple of times, getting his cock hard again before lining it up to your cunt. You grabbed onto anything that you could, preparing yourself for the devious stretch that you begged for the entire time he fucked your throat. Daryl collected the slick from your dripping cunt onto his cock, making it nice and wet... as if he needed to, your own spit was still covering it. He teased your hole, putting the tip of his cock inside before dragging it down once again. He was trying to tease you, make you feel an ounce of what he felt the entire night with you prancing around in the slutty dress that was now bunched up around your waist. You subconsciously bucked back on him, trying to fit his cock inside your needy cunt... but he held your hips in place, gripping them so painfully that you could feel it throughout your entire body.

He kept this motion up for only seconds before he got tired of it, he got tired of your whines and your pleas, deciding to give you what you craved. In one swift movement, he slammed his cock inside of your wet folds, bottoming out in one thrust as he did so. This action made you moan loudly, almost screaming when you felt the sudden stretch of your cunt around his cock. Daryl revealed this noise, like it was his favorite song... making you scream from pleasure, making you feel so good you didn't care that hundreds of people were just outside of this door... some of those people being the family you have gathered along the fall.

Daryl didn't waste a second, doing the same thing to your cunt that he did with your throat... he pulled his cock all the way out before slamming it back in. You could feel his cock in your stomach, moving around your organs as if it was meant to be in there. You don't think you will ever get used to the size of his cock, because each time you both fucked you would always have to get used to the shape of him all over again... and each time it took you off guard. His cock was merciless, nails digging into your hips, cock buried so perfectly into your cunt... it was pure light.

You were so lost in pleasure, your moans just dripping from your mouth and Daryl allowed it... he was far too lost in his own pleasure to mind. You hoped that the loud music playing just outside would cover the noise and since no one had come running in to make sure you weren't being murdered yet, you felt it was doing a good job of covering up the noise. Daryl kept up his harsh thrust, one hand coming up to your hair to pull your head back so he could attack your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, causing your body to go almost limp... balancing on Daryl's cock was the only thing keeping you upright.

He watched your eyes roll back into your head, face flush red as he pushed himself further into you as if there was any room for him to do so. He reached his hand that was placed on your hip, sliding it down to between your thighs... rubbing your bundle of nerves slowly. He knew you were close, he knew you could have gotten off his cock down your throat alone.... so he knew you wouldn't be able to hold on very long from his cock being deep inside you. He touched, licked, fucked every single spot of your that he knew would send you off the edge, he was proving pretty successful with it too.

But suddenly, all his movements stopped and so did the entire world for a second. While you were lost in your pleasure, the bathroom door was slammed open and voices now replaced your moans... engulfing the bathroom with their noise. You were too lost in your own pleasure to notice, your moans still slipping through your mouth and your hips trying to once again buck back into his. Daryl however was now in his "security/guard" mode now, reaching up with his hand to slap it around your mouth... pulling you flush to his chest. You gasped into his hand at the sudden action, eyes widening as you felt his cock dig deeper into you. Even though that was not Daryl's intention, it still caused his cock to twitch inside of you.

"Shhh." He cooed, his mouth hovering over your ear.

But how could you be quiet when Daryl's cock was so deep inside of you, how could you be quiet with how close his body was to yours, how could you be quiet when you could smell his toothpaste and the college he wore. but you obeyed, knowing that if you did then maybe you would get a mind-blowing orgasm out of it. You could hear two sets of footsteps, they sounded heavy... almost like 2 men. IT would make sense, if you were in the men's bathroom... You couldn't hear what they were talking about, you could hear them but you couldn't understand them with Daryl's cock grazing your g-stop.

Daryl peaked through the small gap between the wall and the door, watching the men through it. You could tell by the way his eyes relaxed slightly that the men had no idea you two were in here, that they were lost in their own conversation to pay any attention to the stall you two had been hidden behind. Daryl took a step back, pulling you along with him... his movement caused his cock to almost slip out of you, but him pulling you close to his made it once again thrust inside of you. You squirmed against him, his free hand keeping you still.

"Did you see that girl...uhh she had that black dress on? She was going around interviewing people about how they like the commonwealth?" One of the men said, you could hear him unzip his pants as he did so... soon after the trickling of urine could be heard.

"Dixons girl? yeah, I saw her alright." The other man said, his voice almost laced with lust.

You froze at the mention of you, more specifically how you were labeled "Dixon's girl". You had a name and you even gave it to them, fucking assholes. If it were any other time, you would correct them with a fist through the teeth and a knee to the groin... but right now, you were too occupied getting stuffed by Daryl's cock. Your senses were completely filled with Daryl, your cunt full of him... it made it hard to think any coherent thought, especially with how his cock pulsed inside of you, rubbing you from the inside softly.

"Dixons girl huh?" The other man chuckled, finishing up his business as he did so. You could feel Daryl's ego grow a bit, especially with how his hips started to move softly into yours. He got such a big head when it came to you, knowing you were his. "So what's the deal with them? I mean, she's like 20 years younger than that old fuck. Does she have daddy issues or does she just like me older?"

You would have corrected them once again, telling them that you just liked Daryl. You didn't go after him because he was older or because you lacked a father... They would probably have done the same thing with what Daryl did with his cock, how it turned you into a madwoman every time he pulled it out. You huffed into Daryl's hand, which caused him to chuckle silently. This was entertaining, to say the least, this entire situation was.

"With the way she was dressed tonight, I think maybe she's just a whore." The man said, causing your blood to go cold. "Maybe Dixon was just lucky enough to be the first guy she fucked."

You loved being degraded, you loved being called a whore, you loved being told you are nothing but a hole for a man to cum in... but only when Daryl said it. It was like when it came out of another man's mouth, it sounded so wrong and so degrading but in a not good way. Daryl had a way with his words that made it sound like pure honey, like candy dripped from his lips and you couldn't wait to get a taste. Daryl felt this too as if your genuine degradation actually affected him... like he could feel it flowing through his veins too. Daryl thrust his cock into you, trying to make you forget what they were saying, making you present with him instead of them.

"She seems like the type. " The man replied, the sink running as he said. Daryl once again thrust his cock into you, the knot in your stomach coming back. "Those outsider girls, man, I hear they let you do some weird shit to them."

One more sharp thrust from Daryl, his hand pressing harder on your mouth so they wouldn't hear your moans. He let his free hand roam down to your clit once more, rubbing it in small tight circles. To him, Daryl thought that maybe if you were too focused on your nearing orgasm, you wouldn't let the words of disgusting men get to you... he was slightly right because after that last sentence, their words turned to just background noise. You could feel yourself giving in the pleasure, you threw your head back on his shoulder, your back arching as you pressed your ass more into him so the gaps between your bodies were nonexistent.

"Damn, I might have to pay a visit to Dixons girl huh?" The man chuckled, the sound of zipping pants and water filled the air. "You think she'd take us both at the same time?"

Daryl's thrust started out as a way to comfort you in a way, but now with the venomous words these men were letting out... he was doing it out of anger, and jealousy as they talked so grossly about his wife. His thrusts were deep, and rough as he imagined what he would do to these men when he got done with you. How he'd cut off every single finger of one man's hand as the other watched. How he'd slit the throat of the man who even asked that stupid question in the first place, basking in the way his blood sprayed on him.

You took your hand and reached back to set your hands on Daryl's hips as he dug his cock so violently into your cunt. You couldn't take it anymore, your juices had dripped down your legs, now soaking the floor as you let Daryl abuse your pussy. You gave his hip a soft squeeze, a way to tell him "Keep fucking me, I'm gonna cum." He didn't slow his movement, instead, he sped up. Hacking away at the knot that was about to explode inside of your stomach.

"If she's fucking that old redneck... shit, she should be glad we would even consider fucking her." The man spit out, heavy footsteps leading to the door as he spoke.

And that was it, those words caused Daryl to thrust so harshly into you that it broke the knot inside of you. You almost screamed into Daryl's hand, your body tensing completely, your toes curling, your vision going white as he didn't stop his abuse. He fucked and rubbed you through the earth-shattering, mind-blowing, entire life-changing orgasm. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, liquids puddling up on the floor as you came around his cock. His fingers that were playing with your clit while you came were now covered in your slick.

"I call fucking her tits first." The other man said, another pair of footsteps followed the first ones you heard... both of the men now leaving the bathroom. "You can have him..."

The door shut, silencing the men's words which were now just jumbled as you came on Daryl's cock. You heard the door click shut, suddenly being shoved against the door once again in just seconds. You were still having the aftershocks of your orgasm while Daryl thrust into you, shoving your head further into the stall door. You moaned loudly, you're an overstimulated pussy trying to reject his cock but also craving it, his hand no longer silencing your moans. He shoved his cock inside of you, over and over again until the door was shaking along with his thrust.

You could feel his anger, feel the way that he tensed... the way that those men's words got more to him than they did to you. You could tell with every thrust of his hips that he was furious. He thrust into you only a couple more times before he groaned loudly, almost growling as he felt his own orgasm consume his body.

"Gonna cum in your fucking pussy..." He spit out, his grip on your hip tightening now and you could cum again just by his anger. "Gonna fill you up so fucking good baby... so good baby."

His words filled your brain, your body still so exhausted from the orgasm. You let him use you though, let him use your body so he could fuck his anger out. It was only mere seconds before you could feel his thick, warm cum paint your walls. When he said he was going to fill you up, he fucking meant it. He gave your pussy a few more good thrusts before he drained himself completely, his body allowing his veins to fill with pleasure. There's something about anger that makes orgasms feel so much better, feel so much more intense... and Daryl was a very angry man.

Daryl's cock softened inside of you, throbbing against your walls. He kept himself in you though, allowing you both to recover from the pleasure that filled you both. Daryl leaned down, kissing your back softly as he came down from his high, rubbing your hips to ease the bruises he left on them. This night was not supposed to go like this, you two were not supposed to fuck in the bathroom of this new town you had just been welcomed into. This was behavior that you two would do in your earlier years when you were both reckless, both so horny your hands never left each other. It is comforting, how things never really change.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, brushing your hair from your face... your face still pressed against the door and still very much covered in his cum.

You nodded softly, not able to speak well because Daryl's cock really took a number on your throat. Daryl smiled softly, slipping his cock out of you... watching his cum leak out of you. It was rare for Daryl to cum in you, he was always so adamant about cumming anywhere but inside simply because....he didn't want to knock you up, kids weren't supposed to grow up in this world. But something about tonight, he wasn't worried about you getting pregnant. A part of him actually welcomed it.

Daryl stepped back from you, pulling his pants up and buttoning them back up. You straighten yourself up, legs shaking as you attempt to pull your dress down. You weren't sure if you should bring up what happened, about the men who said those things but the words left a tension between you two. The words did hurt, you did feel massively sexualized by those men and you didn't like the feeling of it. But you thought maybe you could ignore it, it will go away on its own. Daryl noticed your struggle to put your dress back on, feeling a slight twinge of sympathy.

"Let me help..." He said, reaching over to help fix your dress. Covering up your body, his hands grazing your soft skin as he did so. He too was having that debate in his head, if you two should talk about it. "You know, those men. They're dead, you know that?"

It was almost like he heard your thoughts, could read your mind, and laid out what you needed to hear. This entire night you had been sexualized, but you didn't mind it... it was just attention to you. But hearing it while Daryl was there, feeling the way it affected him as well. It made you feel so gross like maybe all you were was actually just a piece of meat to some men. You could never imagine a life without Daryl now, how respectful he was even with his degradation.

Daryl was 2 steps ahead though, he already planned on making their life a living hell. It was one thing to gawk at you in front of your face, imagining what you tasted like or how you would look butt naked on top of them... all the while you just wanted to collect stories. But it was another thing to write you up as some lust-filled woman who would give herself any man who would ask her nicely. You weren't what they made you out to be, but then again they made every woman who liked sex like they did out to be some kind of whore. You liked sex, you liked it rough... but so did they, so why were you any different?

"Don't get yourself in trouble because of that asshole diary." You said although you urged him not to... a part of you really wanted him to. Men like them deserved to be put in their place, they deserved to be made to feel just how they made women feel. Plus you wouldn't mind Daryl coming home all bloody...

"Who said I'll get caught..." He smiled, inching closer to you, and laid a soft kiss on your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist while he did so. Daryl was good at his craft, he knew how to be careful."So, I want you to go home... Take a nice bath, make some tea or something.... maybe get some rest. And I'll be home before you know it."

He kissed your forehead, brushing your hair from your face. It did sound so nice to just give in to sleep, especially with being a nervous wreck all night and then being fucked so hard in a small bathroom. But the feeling of Daryl going to hunt down these men, staying up till the early ends of the night punishing them for what they said... something inside of you flips, causing a small knot in your stomach to form wants more. You reached up on your tiptoes, bringing Daryl into a passionate, long kiss. This hinted to Daryl what kind of mood his actions had put you in, he pulled away when he realized... he'd already been away from his post for long enough, he couldn't go another round with you.

He chuckled softly, stepping away from you... he slid his jacket off and placed it on your small body. You were completely engulfed by it, it covered your body more than the black dress did, and you couldn't help but feel so safe in it.

"I'll leave the bathroom first, you wait a couple of minutes and sneak out. There should be a backdoor in the kitchen you can slip out of, but then I want you to go straight home okay?" He said, pulling the jacket closer to your body before setting another kiss to your lips. "And clean your face off before leaving, it's already bad enough i fucked you in here... don't need them to see the evidence of it."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, zipping up the jacket as you did so. You did completely forget about the cum that still dripped from your face, you were covered in so many liquids that his cum was completely forgotten by you. You nodded your head, watching him unlock the stall door and slip out of it. You poked your head from it, making sure the coast was clear before you also slipped out of it. You looked in the mirror, jesus... you were a complete mess. You watched as he peeked out of the bathroom door, making sure he could slip out successfully.

"Round three when you get home..." You called out, making him whip his head around to look at you. He scoffed, shaking his head softly. 

[chrisevansonly]

𝐉𝐞 𝐓’𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: girls night is always fun for you, and now charles knows you only ever have and will have eyes for him

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: slight swearing, very fluffy

𝐚/𝐧: this was a request from a while ago so I just decided to write it now, this fic has no french i have 0 brain power for it, and im so so sorry for takin such a long time to update, things have just been so busy and not amazing lately. anyway, enjoy 🫶🏻

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Charles couldn’t hold back the smile on his face as he held your hip gently, your eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, clearly too many strawberry cocktails had been consumed tonight.

“Oh what’s that look for baby?”

“Don’t call me that. I have a boyfriend” you retaliated, words slurring as he nodded

“Baby, I am your boyfriend cmon, I have to get you home”

Shaking your head you reared back from him, your brain in its drunken state clearly not happy hearing that

“Absolutely not, I’m not going home with anyone, I’m going home with Charles”

Your friends were laughing at this point too, teasing you and poking fun at you, which you didn’t fully understand but Charles was ever the patient boyfriend, part of him slightly proud with your denial to leave the bar with anyone but him.

He had no insecurities in your relationship and he had the utmost trust in you, he just was happy to see you could handle yourself if you needed.

“How about I take you to find Charles then hmm?”

“Find Charles?”

He nodded, taking your hand in his as you reluctantly began to follow him, his arm moving to wrap around your waist as he directed the two of you out of the busy club, and over to his ferrari which was parked across the street.

“I know this car…” you said, letting out a yawn

“You do baby, come on…let’s go”

His voice was soft as he helped you into the car, doing up your seatbelt, holding back yet another laugh at the slight skeptical look in your eyes.

“Ready amour?”

At the sound of this a lazy smile pulls at your lips, thinking of Charles and the special little pet name he calls you

“Hmm Charlie calls me that…”

“He does, he knows it’s your favourite”

“How do you know?”

Smiling he leans down to kiss your forehead, happy to see your eyes slowly starting to close, hoping you’ll get some sleep on the way home.

“I just know amour…”

Just like he had suspected, you’d fallen asleep on the way home, your head resting against the window as he checked on you from time to time. Charles knew you’d either be a little more sober when you got home and recognized him, or he’d sleep in the guest room as he had before, he never wanted to make you uncomfortable if your brain wasn’t sober and you didn’t recognize him, which for the record rarely happened.

When he pulled up the driveway he opted to carry you upstairs, holding you to his chest as you slept soundly, only stirring when your back hit the mattress. Charles watching as your eyes opened and you blinked sleepily.

“Hi…”

“Hi baby…how are you feeling?”

Nodding you rubbed your eyes

“Hmm sleepy…thank you for picking me up”

“You’re welcome, you gave me quite the hard time…”

Groaning you looped your hands around his neck as he leaned over you, a teasing smile on his face

“I’m sorry baby…I swear I don’t mean it..”

“I know amour, if it makes you feel better I find it quite cute when it happens”

You rolled your eyes laughing softly, knowing he just enjoyed seeing you try and fight him off thinking he was just a random guy, it boosted his ego, but in the best way possible.

“How about I get you some comfy clothes and take your makeup off?”

He waited for you to nod before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips

“I love you, even if you forget who I am sometimes”

Hitting his chest gently you smiled

“I love you too…and i’m never drinking again”

Charles laughed shaking his head, knowing you’d very much do this all over again at another girls night in the future, but he didn’t mind at all. Especially when he got to cuddle up next to you every night, knowing he was the one that got to hold your heart in his care.

Even if you did forget who he was from time to time…

[grapejuicebrat]

carry you home

PAIRING: rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY: where rafe finally found someone who loves him. and where finally rafe falls in love.

my masterlist

The best love is unexpected. You don't just pick someone and cross your fingers it'll work out. You meet them by fate and it's an instant connection, and the chemistry share is way above your head. You just talk and notice the way their lips curve when they smile or the colour of their eyes and all at once you know you're either lucky or screwed.

That’s what Rafe loves about you. Well, actually, he just loves you. He loves the way you smile, the way you walk, the way you talk. The way you hug him wherever he is sad. The way you talk him through hard times. The way you immediately know when something is off. The way you taught him how to trust people and not be afraid to express feelings.

You were his light in the darkness.

When he first met you he thought that you were disgustingly cute and sweet and shit. You didn’t care about Rafe being a total dick to you. You just wished him a nice day and offered a free ice cream just because you were in a good mood to make people happy.

And guess what? In the evening, the same day, Rafe felt guilty. You were so nice to him and he did everything to ruin your good impression of him. Like you weren’t like this pogues who just see him and are ready to throw all shit at him. You were literally smiling and offered a fucking ice cream. When he told you to fuck off and stop smiling.

Guess again? The next day Rafe bought you an ice cream in your own shop. And he apologised for being a dick. And of course you forgave him.

“Sure thing! Everybody has a bad day, it’s okay!”

And your sweet voice wasn’t that disgusting anymore.

You showed him one important thing that no one has ever been able to show him before. Not that he’s beautiful, not that he’s smart, not that he’s sweet. None of that. You showed him something more important than any of those things. You showed him that he was important, that there's a reason he’s here. You made him feel like the world was lucky to have him.

And Rafe doesn’t know if anyone will ever make him feel that way again.

Waking up next to you was Rafe’s favourite thing after coming home to you after a long day at work. Honestly, it is so nice - knowing that here is someone who is actually waiting for you. You were always there for him. Supporting in every decision, giving advices when he needs them, just being silent because comfortable silence is so underrated.

And when you said you loved him? Rafe thought that he was about to pass out. It was the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. Knowing that someone loves him. Just because he exists. Maybe he is toxic, manipulative. But she loves him. The way he is.

“I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

And then Rafe cried. And no, he wasn’t embarrassed of this. Because you taught him that it’s not a disgusting thing to express your feelings. It’s okay to cry. Just because you’re a man it doesn’t change anything. You’re still allowed to cry and to laugh and to be silent. Rafe is a human too after all.

“You know what i’ve learned from your stupid romcoms?” Rafe asks you and kisses your cheek.

“They are not stupid!” you roll your eyes and laugh. “But anyway, what you’ve learned?”

“The world was made so that we could find each other in it.”

And he was finally happy, having the love of his life in his arms.

this one is so special to me and no i won’t stop writing about rafe being a softie lmao

if you would like to be added to my taglist leave a comment or let me know by sending me in my ask!

tag list: @ivy-34

[russo-woso]

hii i have an alessia russo request :)

basically reader is a huge fuckgirl and everyone knows this, then when she meets alessia after alessias transfer to arsenal they become really close and start sleeping together but r makes it clear it’s just casual, then lessi starts catching feelings for her and r is aware of it but she is kinda playing with alessias feelings and showing mixed signals, eventually lessi breaks down and starts yelling at r about how cruel she’s being by playing with her feelings, happy ending though please maybe there’s an explanation on why r was acting the way she was?

also please write it with a bottom!alessia :)

No strings || Alessia Russo x Bronze!reader

Warning smut 18+, ab riding, fingering, orgasm denial, bottom!alessia, top!reader

Summary You’re known for getting around, but what happens when you start to fall for a special someone?

It’s a long one :)

Moving to Arsenal from Barcelona had been a hard move.

You knew it would be a hard move but you had prepared yourself for it.

The worst part of it all was the fact you were leaving your big sister, Lucy, behind.

Over the summer, you had been too focused on the World Cup to think about the dread of moving, but once you reached the airport, Lucy approached to say goodbye and that’s when it finally hit you.

You hated it.

You hated the fact you had to move.

But you had to. You had to leave.

You had to leave her.

Her being Jana Fernández.

You and Jana had been dating since you were both twenty and had dated for two years, however, when you were still madly in love with her, she came to you and said she had fallen out of love with you. She told you that you weren’t the one for her, and that killed you.

Once you’d broken up with Jana, it just became awkward and toxic to be around her.

Every training, you purposely avoided her but it became impossible to do that when you were always put at partners for training.

So you left.

You left everything behind so you could have a new beginning, and you wanted that.

You promised you wouldn’t fall in love again, not for a while at least, but that rule started to fade once you saw her, Alessia Russo.

Still being 22, you were playing with the under 23s, however, within the days prior to meeting her, you had received your call up for the World Cup.

Due to the fact you were only getting your call up then, you had never met Alessia but Lucy and Kiera had both told many stories with a certain blonde striker in them.

Alessia and you signed your contracts for Arsenal on the same day and the photographers suggested you take pictures together, which meant Arsenal got to show off their two new signings that could potentially be the future of English football.

It was only after the shoots that Alessia spoke to you.

“You’re Lucy’s sister aren’t you?” Alessia asked and you nodded in response, worried that you’d stutter if you opened your mouth. “You two look alike.” It was the truth. You and Lucy really did look alike. You both were tall, muscular, tattooed.

“Alessia, right?” You questioned, already knowing the answer and was confirmed when she nodded. “I’ve heard lots about you from Luce and Kiera. I’m guessing you’re the blonde striker that goes by Less in their stories.”

“They talk about me? What stories do they tell you?”

“There was this one story where you supposedly tripped over someone’s boot and face planted the floor.” You slightly giggled as Alessia’s face went a light shade of red. “Don’t worry, I’m clumsy too. Ask Luce. I’ve always been clumsy since I was a toddler. Running into stuff, tripping over things, everyone says they’re surprised I don’t trip over the ball when I play football.”

“No way, I get told that all the time.” You and Alessia laughed as the similarities you shared arose.

“Anyway, I best go, my plane back to Barca is in a few hours and you know what London traffic is like.” You joked and Alessia smiled. “See you in Australia?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in Australia.” Alessia confirmed and with a small smile, you waved and left leaving a very confused Alessia.

Alessia had never come across a girl who made her feel the way you made her which racked her brain full of questions about you, and herself.

———————

“Luce, come on, I don’t like her. I can’t like her.” You complained as Lucy kept going on and on about you liking Alessia.

Once you’d gotten back from London, you told Lucy your encounter with Alessia and she had been teasing you for the past week.

You were currently on the way to London to meet up with the team before making your way to Australia for the World Cup.

“Yeah, but you do deep down, don’t you?” Lucy asked, desperate to get the truth from you.

“Kiera, please tell her to stop.” You begged, for the fourth time, as Kiera looked, unimpressed, at the both of you.

“Lucy, stop it.” Was all Kiera said and it was your turn to look unimpressed at her.

“Look, Luce, I get it. You’re my older sister, you want to know who I like, but I can’t like Alessia. Not after Jana.” You explained and Lucy gave you a sympathetic look. “And anyway, Alessia doesn’t even like girls.”

“Listen, kid, as your older sister, it’s not just my job to know who you like, but it’s also my job to make sure you’re happy, and if I think you’d be happy with Alessia, I say to shoot your shot.” Lucy told you and you nodded along, pretending to listen to her when actually you were blocking her voice out because you knew you wouldn’t do what she was saying.

Once Lucy had finished talking, she pressed resume on her laptop and went back to watching her film which you were grateful for because it meant that you didn’t have to continue the conversation.

———————

“Y/N, hi.” You heard a voice say before a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Hi Alessia.” You said, taken aback at how sudden the action was.

“How are you? How was your flight from Barcelona?” Alessia questioned, you figured to try make conversation.

“It was good. A bit of turbulence and Lucy being annoying, but other than that, fine.” You replied, grabbing your suitcase before starting to walk away, hoping to end the conversation with your action but nope, Alessia grabbed hers too, walking side by side with you.

“Oh, why was Lucy being annoying?” Alessia asked and you mentally screamed.

As much as you wanted to speak to Alessia, like you really really wanted to, you couldn’t.

Could you?

“Just being herself, you know?” You lied, definitely not being able to tell Alessia the truth.

“Y/N!” You hear Georgia shout from across the terminal and you let out a small thankful sigh, not loud enough for Alessia to pick up on it though.

“I’ll see you on the plane, okay? Bye less.” You smiled at her, before walking to Georgia who enveloped you in a hug.

——————

To say you had had the best weeks of your life was an understatement.

Smashing through the group stages and winning against Nigeria, the whole team had an excited buzz around them.

The only thing that could make the summer even better, was if you could just admit your feelings to Alessia.

Over the past weeks, you and her had grown closer and closer, and you were definite that feelings were there for her but you pushed them away, also definite that your feelings were wrong.

To celebrate the win against Colombia, the whole team decided to go out after the match.

It had started with you saying you weren’t drinking much, but with constant nagging from Lucy, Mary, and a few other girls to drink, you figured you might as well.

You deserved to and it also meant you could get them off your back.

Once you had your first drink, you expected to feel a bit tipsy and then that would have been time to head home.

However, what you didn’t expect to happen, was to be drunkenly taking Alessia back to your room.

Whilst at the bar, flirty and needy touches from both, you and Alessia, had occurred and you took Alessia’s hand in yours, leading her outside before planting your lips on hers.

“Stay in my room tonight.” You whispered in her ear, breaking your lips from her jaw.

Alessia nodded almost immediately, moving to look you in your eyes before pressing her lips on yours.

From that moment, you booked a taxi and eventually ended back at the hotel, you and Alessia the only ones there.

You led Alessia upstairs, not letting your lips off her.

As you entered the room, you pinned Alessia against the wall, moving your lips down her neck whilst her hands tangled themselves in your hair.

A small sigh escaped Alessia’s mouth, her grip in your hair tightening as you continued to attack the sweet spot on her neck.

“Fuck” she murmured, whilst you licked the sensitive, fast growing mark on her neck.

You grabbed ahold of the bottom of her shirt, pulling it quickly over her head, before reconnecting your lips with her body.

This time, instead of moving to her neck, you pressed your lips to her collarbone and down to her chest, just above where her bra sat.

“Move to the bed?” You questioned, pulling away from her body.

“Please.” She whined as you grabbed the back of thighs, lifting her up, effortlessly, and carrying her to the bed.

You placed her down in the centre of the bed before climbing above her.

“Fuck, you look so good beneath me.” You whispered in her ear whilst reaching beneath her to unclip her bra.

“Take this off.” Alessia told you, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You sat up, nearly ripping the shirt off you, your abs flexing at the cool air.

You watched as Alessia’s eyes trailed down your body to your abs, her eyes growing when she landed on them.

You smirked lightly before grabbing the top of her trousers, pulling down swiftly along with her underwear.

“Please hurry up.” Alessia mumbled, your mouth quickly attaching itself to her right nipple.

“Patience, pretty girl.” You told her, your voice husky which clearly affected Alessia because the moan she let out was almost pornographic.

Your tongue swirled around her nipple, your teeth often biting down gently to give her even more pleasure.

“Please, Y/N.” Alessia begged, and you lifted your head to look at her.

Her eyes were screwed shut, her head against the bed.

You locked eyes with hers once they opened, the blue that you’d fallen in love with was the only thing you could focus on.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, needing the confirmation before continuing.

“I want this, I’ve wanted this for a long time.” She revealed and you lowered yourself so you were in line with her pussy.

Planting teasing kisses to her inner thighs, you eventually thought it was time and connected your mouth with her mouth.

Alessia sucked a breath in as you made contact with her.

The whole experience was intoxicating for you.

The taste of her was intoxicating.

The smell of her was intoxicating, the perfume she wore was all you could smell.

Her laugh was intoxicating.

“You taste so good.” You moaned shamelessly into her pussy which made her buck her hips into your face.

You grabbed ahold of her thighs, keeping them in place whilst you continued to eat her out.

Your tongue took turns between going to her core and to her clit.

“I’m so close.” Alessia breathed out, her breath uneven and ragged.

You hummed in response, sending vibrations through Alessia’s body, moving her closer and closer to the edge.

The sounds escaping Alessia’s mouth made you feel like you were in heaven.

You felt Alessia’s pussy begin to clench so with a final lick you pulled away, leaving a very confused and angry Alessia.

“What? I was so close.” Alessia whined, out of breath.

“I know, pretty girl, but you’re gonna cum. I promise.”

You wiped your mouth, due to it being covered in Alessia’s juices, before leaning down to kiss her.

She moaned into the kiss due to her tasting herself.

As you deepened the kiss, you felt Alessia’s hand work its way to your abs, slowly tracing her fingers over them.

You smirked into the kiss, knowing how much she loved them.

“‘m gonna flip you, okay?” You stated and switched your positions so now, head was against the headboard and Alessia straddled your hips, more so your torso.

She bucked her hips at the contact with your abs.

You grabbed ahold of her hips, slowly guiding her up and down your abs.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” You praised her as she started to pick up the pace of her hips.

Moans escaped Alessia’s mouth and she increased her speed.

With the sensitivity from the denied orgasm, you figured Alessia would cum quickly and as you expected, she did.

It didn’t take long for her to mumble that she was close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Oh god — ‘m gonna cum.” Alessia nearly screamed, and at that point, you flipped her again so she was beneath you and you slipped your fingers into her.

You continuously pumped in and out of her, to push her over the edge.

Curling your fingers to a particular spot, she moaned for the final time and her legs spasmed around your arm.

“God, I love you so much. I’ve loved you for ages, Y/N. I’ve wanted your lips on mine for months.” Alessia revealed and your face turned white.

You were speechless.

You didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was just post orgasm talk. Or maybe it was the truth.

“And I’m not just saying that because you just gave me the best orgasm of my life. I really do like you, Y/N.” Alessia admitted.

Bingo. There was your answer.

Thoughts swirled through your head.

You liked her back. You know you do. But you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t.

“I’m gonna get a clean cloth and I’ll help you clean up.” You told her, desperately trying to change the topic.

“Oh, okay.” Alessia said, the sparkle in her eyes disappearing which killed you to think that you were the reason for the action.

You promised yourself from that moment that you wouldn’t sleep with anyone, especially Alessia, until you were ready for an actual relationship.

Seeing Alessia hurt and confused killed you, and you didn’t want to experience that again.

You broke that promise though.

Following the win against Australia, the girls went drinking and Alessia ended up in your bed again.

It wasn’t planned and you didn’t intend for her to end there.

But similarly, you left her confused and hurt when you came up with an excuse for her to go.

You hated it.

You hated yourself for making her go through torture.

But most of all, you hated yourself for giving her mixed signals.

You ignore her when you walk past her, but then sleep with her.

You pretend like you don’t know her, but then sprint to her when she scores.

You show her that you don’t like her, but then show her that you love her.

You figured Alessia would snap at you at some point.

What you didn’t expect, was for her to snap at you at the worst time possible.

After the final and the loss to Spain, the team went out for a final time, hoping the drink would take away their emotions.

The night consisted of alcohol, dancing and jealousy.

The jealousy part in all the girls who were jealous of Spain for taking the win, but for you, it was a different type of jealousy.

Throughout the night, a bloke had made his way to Alessia, a flirty smirk resting on his face.

You saw Alessia smile back and within the space of a few hours, they’d gone from talking, to his hands resting on her hips as they danced.

You hadn’t realised just how jealous you were until Mary pointed it out.

“Mini Bronze, what’s with the frown and the red face? Angry are we?” Millie teased and the rest of the team agreed.

Instead of responding, you got out of your seat, stomping over to Alessia and the guy before pushing him away from Alessia.

“Get away from her.” You almost shouted as he pushed back.

“Why?” He snarled, harshly pushing you again. “Are you her girlfriend?”

“What if I was? Have a problem with that?” You squared up to him before he threw a punch.

You eyed him down, throwing a harder punch back.

You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and Lucy telling you to stop.

She separated you and the bloke before telling him to get out.

“What’s your problem?” You heard Alessia shout at you.

It took you, and the rest of the team, by shock at her shouting because she never raised her voice.

“You give me signs that you like me and then you ignore me! You fucking sleep with me, but then walk straight past me the next day. I like you Y/N! Why can’t you just tell me if you like me back? I just want an answer!” Alessia continued to shout.

You watched everyone’s jaws drop at the sudden reveal.

“I do. I do like you Alessia. I’ve liked you since Lucy and Kiera would come home talking about this climbs blonde striker. But I can’t love you. I can’t.” Your voice broke as you said the final sentence.

“Why? Why can’t you love me?”

“Because…” You were about to explain but remembered all the people who had surrounded you, including your big sister and all your teammates. “Can we go outside?”

Alessia nodded, and you both walked out the door and into the darkness that surrounded the bar.

“Why can’t you love me, Y/N, because I need to know. I need to know if you love me or not. Because I’m wasting my life waiting for you when potentially, you don’t even like me back.”

“I can’t love you because I loved Jana and she left me. I loved her and she said randomly one day that she didn’t love me anymore. I don’t want that to happen to us, because I love you too much Alessia. I think I loved you before I even met you. I don’t want to lose you and if that means staying friends, then so it stays.” You explained, Alessia’s face changing from anger to sympathy. “I wish I could love you Alessia, I really want to. But I don’t want any of us to get hurt.”

“I don’t care if I get hurt, Y/N. And I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d rather quit football than hurt you. I’d give up football in a heartbeat for you, and that’s telling you something. Please, let me love you.” Alessia said, inching closer and closer until she stated the last sentence against your lips.

“I’ll never stop loving you.” You whispered against hers before connecting them.

This time, the kiss was slow and full of love.

“I’m so sorry for everything, Less. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to confuse you.” You rambled as you pulled away from the kiss.

“It’s okay. I understand, I promise you, I understand. That’s in the past now.”

Alessia was true.

Jana and that experience was your past, Alessia was now your future.

[httpsserene]

Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

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Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

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[mrsshabana]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, age difference, angst, fluff, daddy issues, mommy issues, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. I want to thank everyone who was so excited for this fic, your kind words really encouraged me to write so much! I hope you enjoy it and keep an eye out for chapter two ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two ✧:･ﾟ→ Part three

This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Gyutaro’s pathetic life since his sister was accepted into college. 

His life is nothing special really, and it never has been. Always taking care of his little sister was his number one priority so his needs and wants were always put on the back burner. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. With a face like that, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life? He’s thirty-five and has never had a romantic partner, but no surprise there. His personality is unpleasant and he doesn’t have much going for him. His job is alright and he can afford to support himself and his sister but that’s about it. 

By now he’s come to accept the fact that some things just aren’t in the cards for him. Things like a wife and maybe even kids. As he got older he found himself longing for these things more and more. Especially when he witnessed all of his friends getting married and starting families of their own. But now at his age, no woman would want to get with him, let alone start a family.

At first, he was mad at the world and everyone in it. It wasn’t fair that he was denied love just because he had a few spots on his face, crooked teeth, and was a bit rough around the edges. The jealousy and anger ate at him for many years, causing his personality to become bitter and cold. On the outside, he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about love, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Since he grew up without receiving any love from his mother, it was always something that he craved, even as an adult.

But he grew up, and he had no choice but to realize this was his reality and there was no changing it. It was hard to accept, but he’s finally come to peace with it. At least he has Ume, and honestly, he’s grateful for that. 

But now, you came into his life and things are beginning to take an interesting turn. 

You’re Ume’s friend from college, she’s a year older than you but you got to know her well in one of your math classes. Ume hates math so she waited until her senior year to take it, which she is starting to regret now. The only upside to the situation is that she met you.

Having gotten pretty close to Ume over the course of the semester, she would often invite you over to her place. You’ve heard her talk about her brother before but you had never met him since he was usually at work when you came over. But when you saw him for the first time, he wasn’t what you had expected. He looked a lot different than the image you had in your mind and he was a lot less friendly than Ume had described him. But even though most of the time he was in a bad mood, he’d be polite to you for the brief moments he was around. 

The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was and how deep and raspy his voice sounded. It was oddly attractive, especially when paired with his messy black hair. You knew he was older than Ume but he didn’t look that old. The only thing that maybe signified his age were the dark circles around his eyes, probably from being overworked. 

Gyutaro never expected to get close to his little sister’s best friend. It’s something he never would have considered, but your actions are causing him to rethink his stance on your almost nonexistent relationship.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

One night you’re studying over at Ume’s place again. The two of you sit in the dining room, with notebooks, pens, and textbooks spread across the table. Midterms are coming up so you’re trying really hard to get some studying done. Even though Ume keeps getting distracted and scrolling through TikTok.

You’ve almost lost your sanity with this study session when you hear the front door unlocking. 

Gyutaro, looking as tired as usual, walks into the house. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He barely even acknowledges you as he walks past saying, “Girls, can you please clean the table.”

“Mm hm,” Ume hums as she continues looking at her phone screen. 

He knows she isn’t going to do as he asks, but he always asks anyway. Today has been a long day and Gyutaro just wishes he could go to sleep but he knows he has a household to take care of. So he hurriedly rushes over to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Coming out with messy damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes straight to his bedroom, but you manage to catch a glimpse of him through the hall. 

The way his long hair sticks to his muscled shoulders and back distracts you. And even after he’s gone from your sight, the heavenly image is still stuck in your mind. 

“Will I ever get a break?” he thinks to himself as he puts on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, “As soon as I’m done cooking I’m passing out.” It’s only 8 pm but after another overtime shift, he’s pooped. Ume’s lucky he loves her so much, or else he would just make her eat a Lean Cuisine for dinner.

He doesn’t even bother to brush his hair and just heads straight towards the kitchen. But on his way, he’s met with something that surprises him. 

“You actually cleaned the table?” he says in shock.

“No, she did,” Ume points to you without even looking up from her phone. 

Gyutaro scowls and hits Ume in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper, “What’s the matter with you? It’s rude to make your guest clean!”

“Hey!! Cut it out!! I didn’t tell her to, she did it on her own!” Ume whines.

“Still, you should have cleaned it yourself,” he grumbles and throws the newspaper to the side, “Y/N, I’m sorry. Please stay for dinner, that’s the least I could offer you for helping my sister since she’s too lazy to do anything on her own.”

“No no, it’s ok! I don’t want to put more work on your plate -”

“I insist,” he smiles and begins preparing the ingredients. 

Ume pays no attention to the matter, as you admire her brother while he works away in the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a sip and sighs before he begins washing some vegetables. 

You sit there and stare at his muscles, admiring the way they move along with noticing the tattoo on his upper arm. The way his hair falls in his face, and he tries to push it away with his wrist while his hands hold ingredients. 

This is something you’ve never had before. A man who takes care of you. It’s something new for you, and quite frankly you’re a bit jealous of Ume. It must be nice to have someone who takes care of her like Gyutaro does. Especially since your father was never around, it feels comforting being in this kind of atmosphere with Gyutaro and his sister. 

The loud clattering of metal hitting the floor snaps you out of the trance you were in. It seems that Gyutaro dropped a knife because he had almost fallen asleep. You can see his eyes closing slowly as he shakes his head in an attempt to wake himself up. Even though you barely know him, the sight makes you feel bad for him. He must be so exhausted, yet he’s determined to make dinner for his little sister. 

“Hey, do you need any help?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen. 

“N-no, thank you though.” He tries to brush you off and continue cooking but you stop him, grabbing his wrist and taking the utensils out of his hand. “It’s ok really, you seem exhausted. Plus I like cooking so it’s no biggie!” You smile and try to lead him away from the kitchen.

“What? No! You’re our guest it’d be rud-”

“Onii-chan just let her do it! She’s offering, stop being so stubborn!” Ume chimes in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a bad host. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me, I just want to help out,” you lead him over to the couch and force him to sit down, “Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“But I-” his sentence trails off as he watches you walk away, not giving him any say in the matter. He feels incredibly guilty for letting you cook. But his body is too tired to fight it, and you no longer hear any complaints from him.

Looking around the kitchen you scan what Gyutaro had set up. There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, a pan with oil in it, some half-cut tomatoes, a box of pasta, and an unopened package of meat. You can only assume that he was trying to make spaghetti. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough and something you’ve made countless times before. 

After about 30 minutes you have all of the food prepared. You make a plate for yourself, Ume, and Gyutaro. 

“Thanks, Y/N!” Ume exclaims as she finally puts down her phone and takes her plate. 

Next, you walk over to Gyutaro to give him his food, but he’s already passed out on the couch. The bottle of beer still in his hand, half full. 

“Poor thing,” you whisper to yourself, “Guess it’ll just be Ume and I for now.” You take the plate to the table and eat with Ume, opting that it’s probably best to let Gyutaro sleep. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

His stomach rumbles and his eyes are heavy as he slowly opens them, looking around at his surroundings. Confused for a moment as he forgot where he was. The living room is dark and quiet and he can’t quite remember why or how he fell asleep here. 

But then he looks over at the coffee table and remembers everything. His bottle is placed aptly beside a plate full of delicious looking pasta. Neatly wrapped in plastic wrap with a note reading, Enjoy! :)

“No way,” he mumbles as he tears off the plastic and begins to dig in. His eyes roll to the back of his head when the delicious food hits his tongue. Things taste so much better when someone else makes them. And honestly, he can’t recall how many years it’s been since someone has cooked him a meal. Five? Possibly ten? Either way, he savors the moment.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That meal has been on Gyutaro’s mind for days now. Never forgetting the taste and the gratifying feeling of eating a meal that was carefully prepared by someone else. It was amazing. And you’ve been on his mind ever since that night.

He told Ume to thank you since he didn’t have your number, and he really hopes she actually did it and didn’t just blow him off like she usually does.

As he drives home from work he can’t help but think of how nice it would be to come home to one of your home-cooked meals. It’s become a fantasy of his to imagine this on his drives home after a long shift. The thought brings him some comfort even though he knows it will never become a reality.

And just as he was driving through downtown he saw someone familiar. It was you, standing beneath one of the street lights as a strange man loomed over you. He appeared to be talking to you, but your body language looked as if you were very uncomfortable with the situation. 

The strange man appeared to be around Gyutaro’s age and all he could think was, “C’mon man, you’re too old to be doing this shit to a young girl. You should know better.” He rolls his eyes and pulls over next to the sidewalk. 

With a deep, tired sigh, he gets out of the car and yells, “Hey Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

At first, the sudden voice calling out to you startles you, but as soon as you see that it’s Ume’s brother you feel like you’ve been saved. The strange man looks over at Gyutaro too, giving him a confused look.

“We’re gonna be late for that movie,” Gyutaro smiles as if everything is normal and walks up to you, “Oh, who’s this? Do I know this guy?”

“Uh n-no, I don’t think you know him,” you say nervously. 

Gyutaro nods and takes your hand, “Sorry man, but we gotta go. We’re gonna miss the premier if we don’t get going now.” 

The stranger seems convinced and walks off as Gyutaro leads you back to his car. Opening the door for you, as he watches the man walk away. Making sure he’s gone for good. 

You don’t hesitate to get into his car, a huge wave of relief washing over you once you’re safely inside. 

As soon as Gyutaro gets into the car he scolds you, “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” His eyes scan your form, and he notices you’re wearing a short dress.

“I was out with some friends,” you say shyly, “and I wanted to go home, but everyone else wanted to stay out…” 

He sighs and starts the car, “You can’t walk around like that, creepy guys are gonna flock towards you. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I was so stupid for doing that… B-but thank you so much for helping me, Gyutaro! You really saved me there,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you imagine what might have happened to you if Gyutaro never showed up. 

“Hey hey, it’s alright,” his expression softens, “You’re ok now, that’s all that matters. And from now on if you need a ride just call me, ok?”

“R-really? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re Ume’s friend. I’d do it for Ume so I’d do it for you too. Besides, I work around here so it’s no big deal,” he smiles and hands you his phone so you can put your number in.

“Thanks. Ume’s really lucky to have a big brother like you,” you say as you finish creating your contact in his phone.

“I try my best I guess, heh if only Ume heard you say that. Anyway, where do you live?”

“Oh, right! It’s super close to here,” you type the directions into his phone navigation, “I really owe you for this, Gyutaro! What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Wh-what? No no no, you don’t have to do anything,” he gets a bit flustered as he begins driving towards your place. 

“Come on! You did so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Ooh, how about I cook something for you?” You raise your eyebrows and smile, trying to convince him. 

When he hears your plea, it’s like his prayers were answered. 

“... well, I can’t say no to that.”

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The long-awaited day has finally come. The day that you will bring over some home-cooked meals to Gyutaro’s house. He’s been anticipating this ever since you promised it to him.

You come over holding tons of containers of food, much more than he had expected. 

“Woah, let me help you,” he says as he holds the front door open and takes one of the bags out of your hand.

“Ah, thanks. I didn’t realize how much food I made until I had to pack it all up,” you laugh and walk into his home. Placing the food on the table, you neatly snack boxes of prepared meals. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a bit confused. He was expecting you to bring over a big container full of food, not a bunch of small ones. 

“I know you work a lot and stuff. So, I thought it’d be better if I packed everything up into individual meals so you can just grab them and take them to work. Less prep work for you. I hope that’s alright…”

Gyutaro is truly left speechless, unable to believe that you not only put so much effort into this but also so much consideration as well. Still in disbelief, he takes one of the neatly packed boxes and opens it up. Inside he’s met with a delicious meal separated neatly, and even a small dessert tucked into the side. The sight is beautiful, but the smell is what really makes him salivate. 

“Wow,” he smiles, “I-I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you.” 

He begins to choke up. After so many years of taking care of his sister, always worrying about her needs, caring for her, stepping up and being that guardian that she needed, never once did someone stop to ask him what he wanted. Let alone go out of their way to take care of him. And for once, just once, he gets a taste of what it feels like to be cared for. Nurtured. And it’s a feeling he wishes he never had to let go of.

All of the emotions he’s kept in for so long finally pour out of him. Your kindness and consideration force his walls to crumble. And his eyes begin to water as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask as you immediately notice that something isn’t right.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, “I-I’m ok,” he rasps, “Just… I really appreciate you doing this. It’s been so long since someone has done something for me…”

“Well, you deserve it,” you smile and try to comfort him by rubbing his back, “I can tell you work really hard. My mom is the same way. So I understand.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and quickly composes himself, “A-Anyway, I’m going to try one right now. It smells great.” He quickly tries to change the subject partially because he’s embarrassed, but also because he genuinely cannot wait to taste your cooking again.

The food still feels warm so he rushes into the kitchen to grab a fork, and he sits at the table and digs in. Immediately as the food hits his tongue he lets out a groan of satisfaction. 

“Mmph, ooh my god,” he says right before he shoves another spoonful into his mouth, “so good!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile and sit beside him at the table, “These recipes are super easy and budget-friendly, so I can give them to you if you want.”

“Please! Mmph, that’d be great,” he swallows another big bite, “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“I just learned over time. It’s always just been my mom and I, my dad was never around,” you sigh, “So I kinda had to learn how to take care of myself since my mom always had two jobs. I would always make food for us to ease her workload. And I’ve always enjoyed cooking so I never minded.”

“Wait, for real?” he looks surprised, “My mom was never around! Man, it fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So you understand how I feel!” you smile despite talking about something upsetting, “So, your dad was the one that raised you?”

“Basically,” he nods as he licks his fork clean, “My mom wouldn’t let my dad come around much, even though she wasn’t around much herself. I was pretty much on my own till my mom  died and my dad took us in.”

Watching him talk about his past, you get the impression that it’s something he doesn’t often talk about. His body language alone is enough to tell you that. But the two of you feel some type of connection having shared a similar childhood experience.

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” you smile, “I think he’d be very proud of you.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and appreciation. “Thanks… he really was the best. But sometimes I just wish I could have had a normal family.”

“Yeah I totally get it,” you sigh, “That’s why I always told myself I’d try to give my future kid the best life I can.  I want to give them the childhood I never had…” You trail off, thinking about the future you hope will become a reality one day. 

“Exactly!” he shouts, “That’s exactly what I told myself too! I always wanted a family so I could do things right.”

He seems excited at first but his expression quickly shifts to one of sadness. 

“But it’s too late for me to have a family,” he continues, looking down as he opens up about one of his biggest failures, “Oh well, if Ume ever has kids I’ll just try to be the best uncle I can.”

“Why would you say it’s too late?” you tilt your head to the side, confused.”

“Y/N, I’m thirty-five years old. I’m too old to start a family… Besides most women my age are done having kids. Not that any woman would want to be with me anyways.” He frowns, being reminded of how he failed to fulfill one of the only dreams he’s ever had. 

“Why not just start a family with a young girl, like me?” You ask without completely realizing what you’re saying. 

“Wh-what?” his eyes widen, completely taken aback by your statement. Could you be insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating? He’s not sure whether you’re just naive or completely delusional. 

“W-Well um,” you blush as you begin to realize what you’ve said, “I think you’re a really great guy. Any woman would be lucky to-”

“Get out,” he cuts you off. 

“I’m sorry-”

“GET OUT!” He raises his voice, striking fear into you to the point where you feel your eyes begin to water. 

You feel utterly embarrassed and ashamed. Just when you were starting to get close to him too, you had to say something stupid to ruin it all. Honestly, you have no idea what you were thinking. You will admit you did have a crush on him, so maybe your heart just got excited and took a risky leap of faith. But unfortunately for you, it backfired. 

Without another word you rush out of his house as fast as you can, balling your eyes out. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚. 

It’s been a few days, and Gyutaro has been ignoring your texts. They stopped coming after that first day, and even though he didn’t respond he still read them. Reading your apologies over and over. He couldn’t get the situation out of his head no matter how hard he tried. So he decided maybe he needed an outside opinion. 

He finds himself sitting at a bar, drinking a beer. Rubbing his rough hand across the stubble that’s grown on his face as he’s been too stressed lately to bother shaving. Honestly, he looks pretty rough. He’s caught up in his self-sabotaging thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Gyutaro! How’ve you been, man?”

He turns around with a smile on his face, “Hey Kai, what’s up?” He stands and gives his best friend a side hug. 

“Gyutarooooo, do I get a hug too?” an annoying voice chimes, a voice that instantly gives Gyutaro a headache. This voice could only belong to one person. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him too,” Kaigaku laughs nervously.

“Douma…” Gyutaro deadpans.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Douma smiles wide, giving Gyutaro a one-sided hug. “So, spill the details! Kai said you had some juicy gossip to talk about!” He says as he sits beside him at the bar, placing his hand under his chin and batting his long eyelashes. 

Kaigaku takes a seat on the other side of Gyutaro and mumbles, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro sighs and takes a drink from his bottle, “I really just wanted some advice. Just promise you won’t make it weird.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” Douma asks. 

Gyutaro just stares at him, thinking of all of the times he has indeed made things weird. 

“Come on man, just spit it out already!” Kaigaku nudges his shoulder. 

Gyutaro groans and slumps over in his seat, “Alright alright. So, there’s this girl-”

“A girl?!” Both of his friends say in unison. 

“Shut up!” Gyutaro growls, knowing exactly why his friends are so shocked. Because out of all of the years they’ve known him, he’s never once brought up a girl. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “There’s a girl I kind of like… she’s really sweet and we have a lot in common but…” he trails off, hesitant to tell them the truth, “She’s only twenty-one…”

Kaigaku chokes on his drink.

“I don’t see an issue,” Douma says, genuinely confused.

“Of course, you don’t,” Gyutaro mumbles under his breath. 

“How the hell did you get into this situation?” Kaigaku coughs.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t pursue her at all!” Gyutaro scowls, “Listen, she’s one of Ume’s friends. She comes over a lot and she’s been really nice to me. She even cooked a bunch of meals for me too…”

“And? Spill it, Shabana!” Douma pouts, getting impatient. 

“AND, we were talking about what we want for our future. I told her I wanted a family one day but I’m too old… and she said why don’t I have a family with a young girl like her. I immediately told her to leave. I’m starting to think maybe I overreacted…”

“Well, girls that age are very fertile!” Douma chimes as if his statement was completely innocent.

“STOP!” Gyutaro shouts, “That’s fucking weird, man! Don’t say it like that!” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…” Kaigaku mumbles. 

“Hey, it’s true! I am a gynecologist after all, it’s just medical facts! And she’s right, having children with someone your age will be much more difficult and there could be complications!” Douma asserts confidently.

“The fact that you’re a gynecologist disturbs me,” Kaigaku says. 

“Me too,” Gyutaro adds. 

“Come on guys! It’s not as weird as you think. Why would it be so wrong to date her?”

“For starters, she’s fourteen fucking years younger than me! That’d be creepy right…? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo or a creep,” he frowns, starting to feel like maybe he is a creep for even considering something with you. 

Kaigaku takes a sip of his drink, thinking long and hard about what advice he should give his friend. Especially since Douma is useless. 

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, “At the end of the day you’re both consenting adults. And since when did you care about what other people think of you anyway?”

“You have a point,” Gyutaro replies, “But she should live her life instead of wasting her time with an old guy like me.”

“First of all you aren’t even that old,” Kai rolls his eyes, “And second of all, she’s an adult who is fully capable of making her own decisions. If she wants to be with you, then she wants it for a reason. Maybe she wants a guy who is at a more stable point in his life. Who knows?”

“Exactly, Kai’s right. I see age gaps much larger than this all the time, it’s more common than you think,” Douma adds. 

“And besides, it would only be creepy if you were talking to her when she was a minor,” Kaigaku states, “Like if you’re an adult talking to a minor, then wait till they’re an adult to pursue them romantically it’s a little creepy if you ask me. But you didn’t even know her at all until now. So don’t worry man. You aren’t creepy or weird for liking this girl.”

Gyutaro feels a wave of relief wash over him as he listens to his friend’s explanation. It's the first thing he’s heard that actually made him feel a bit better about the situation. “So, you really think it’s ok for me to pursue her?”

“Hell yeah! Be happy, man. I know you’re not the kind of guy to go after a girl just because she’s young. She sounds like a really nice girl, and I’m happy someone finally sees what a great guy you are.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Gyutaro smiles, “Alright, I guess I’ll go for it.”

Gyutaro feels a newfound confidence overtake him. His friends are right, he shouldn’t be so caught up in the details when the fact of the matter is that a really amazing woman is interested in him for the first time in his life. And he cannot let this opportunity slide, as it may be the last chance he has at happiness. 

“Who knows, maybe she’s one of my patients!” Douma chimes in out of nowhere.

“Shut up, Douma! God, I can’t take you anywhere!” Kai growls. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That night you receive a text from Gyutaro, “Do you want to go to the botanical gardens with me this weekend?”

When you first read the text you had to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming. Why would he say that all of a sudden? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? Or maybe he’s inviting you out just so he can tell you off in person. 

You aren’t sure which one, but you’ve been so stressed over this situation that you’ll do anything to make up with him. So you hastily respond, “Yes! I’d love to :)”

Immediately you regret how eager you sound in the text, thinking that it might make Gyutaro think you're even more childish. But in reality it makes him smile knowing that someone is excited to see him for once.

“Ok. I’ll send you the details,” he responds a minute later.

Is this a date? That’s the only question that keeps replaying in your mind. A date with Gyutaro, your best friend’s older brother. The whole thing feels taboo, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel even more excited.

Taglist: @gyusimp @mistyychann @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @hoshigafuru @matsukaah @merryclaus @whisperhug97 @dawn-rays-dingo

(I tagged people who showed interest in my previous posts. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. The next chapter will have smut so if you want to be tagged make sure you have your age listed on your blog ♡)

[mrs-monaghan]

Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

I don't have much to say to you anon. Not really. Not anything that hasn't been said anyway. Which you've seen and decided its jkkrs doing mental gymnastics. "I'm a Jikooker but..." its never a great way to start a sentence. It just gives major insecure jkkr vibes which i just 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 you either believe in them or you don't. There is no if, and or buts.

I will leave you with this; over the years, antis and (insecure) jkkrs alike have always found a way to conclude Jkk aren't as close anymore or they broke up or some other bullshit. But what happens everytime Jikook resurface and we see them together again?

NOTHING HAS CHANGED!!!

Nothing ever changes with these 2! They come back closer, more in sync, happier, more in love and their relationship more established than ever. This happens every👏🏽damn👏🏽time👏🏽 Everytime!

Then the insecure jkkrs will be like "jkk is real" again.

And then we will go without content for a while and once again we are back here with the jkk aren't as close argument. Once again. It is an exhausting cycle that I refuse to be a part of.

You can try and nit pick various reasons as to why Jikook aren't in an established rlship, but I will chose to focus on reasons why they are definitely 130000000% in a relationship. Like the fact that they are enlisted together rn, the fact that they could have done AYS with other members but chose eo. Or the fact that Jimin wrote his name on JK's chest with sunscreen and I dont even want to imagine how he did that. What position they were in that would justify people calling them brothers 😂

You do you anon. I'mma just be over here enjoying Jimin promote the hell out of his favourite JK song.

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Look at him so proud of his man 🥺🥺

[florencebirdsong]

More Than Duty

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Agatha All Along Week 2024 - Day 6

summary: you were given leave to choose your own bride until Agatha Harkness came along. Charmed and lured in by her promises of power, your King Father declared you were to be wed. Now, it's your wedding night and certain duties must be upheld.

Set in a world where one can get pregnant from a cum strap

tags: arranged marriage au, virgin reader, strap-on, breeding kink, fingering (r receiving), marking, pet names - princess & good girl, strap referred to as cock once, doggy style 

authors note: you're getting the largely unedited version for a little because if I have to read this one more time I'm going to despise it forever

Also don’t question the time I’m posting this I once again thought I only needed to write 100-200 more but it was actually OVER A THOUSAND. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS. Ahem. Anyway, here’s day six which is almost three times as long as the others.

Reader is referred to as princess multiple times, mentioned royal wedding dress, specified looking for a bride, described as wearing a plain night shift.

ao3 | masterlist

“I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, dear. But there’s no reason not to enjoy ourselves tonight.”

Your hands twist nervously in your simple shift. Your wedding dress had been elaborate. It needed more than one person to get you out of it. Which is not ideal for a wedding night.

You hadn’t had this in mind, exactly. You’d thought you had convinced your father to let you choose your own bride, as long as she met a few of his somewhat reasonable specifications. But then Lady Agatha Harkness had walked into his court. You don’t know whether it was her disarming charm, the power she holds, the boon to the kingdom the exchange would have or his own personal gain but he decided Lady Harkness would be the perfect match for you. He also decided you needed to get married the moment the decision was made. 

Thankfully, a royal wedding took months to prepare and you would have some time to get to know your future bride. Not that you had spent much time with her in the end. Only a few dinners here and there. She’s a busy woman, running her own region which she needed to organise another taking over. She can’t look after it and a whole kingdom, after all. Something she insisted despite your father’s good health. She also spent a lot of time with the court. Learning what her new duties will be and charming her way into their good graces.

It would be unnerving if you weren’t so relieved. One of the suitors your father had originally brought forward had no interest in what her royal duties would have been as Queen. Running a kingdom on your own would have been nothing short of hell.

So, small mercies. 

“Darling,” she says and you try not to startle.

She’s so much closer than before. She cautiously raises a hand to cup your cheek, like you’re a scared animal. You lean into it, eager to soak up any affection she gives you, and her thumb gently brushes over your skin.

“I know you’re nervous but we both have royal duties to attend to.”

You swallow harshly and look down. This is more than duty for you. You’re ashamed to admit you’ve been looking forward to this night. To having Agatha’s sole attention on you. You’ve dreamed about what could happen, what she’ll be like. 

You’ve only been told the very basics. That your wife will enter you with a specially designed device. That it may hurt for a moment but you will feel ‘a pleasure-like feeling’ afterwards. No one would explain exactly what that means. It makes you both more nervous and more excited. The only thing you know about the device is its shape and its intended use. Continuing the royal line.

“I know. It’s just,” you hesitate although Agatha has likely guessed already, “I’ve never done this before.”

“I’m aware,” she says and you flick your eyes up in time to see something flash in her eyes. “I promise to be gentle,” she says softly, a voice you haven’t heard from her before. You gently grasp the wrist of the hand cupping your cheek and nuzzle the hand. “The royal line must continue and it must be of your blood.”

You nod and leave the safety of her caress to cautiously lean closer. She waits for you to come to her and she waits for the first brush of your lips to move. She presses closer and her hands grab your waist and pull you against her. You make a surprised sound and cling to her shoulders for balance. Which you immediately lose as she begins to walk you backwards. The back of your knees hit the bed and she guides you to lay down in the middle of it. It’s hard to notice any of it with the feel of her lips against yours. The way her hands slide along your exposed skin as she leads you doesn’t help. She can’t keep her lips on you the entire time but you don’t mind so much until she pulls away properly. You chase her lips but she stops you with a hand dangerously low on your chest. 

Whatever look you’re giving her makes her eyes darken. One hand travels to the hem of your shift. You grab her wrist without thinking, anxiety rearing its head again. No one has seen you naked like this before. With the intention to- to touch. To feel.

“Let me see you,” she says, her voice firm.

You slowly relax your grip. This is your wife and someone who has shown how eager she is to see you undressed. She isn’t going to laugh or mock you. Your fingers slip from her wrist and she pulls your shift the rest of the way off.

It feels exposing in a way you haven’t felt before. You try to cover yourself instinctively but her hands grab your wrists and holds them down as she has her fill. You squirm but she doesn’t release you. Instead, she leans down and begins to suck deep, purple marks along the curve of your breast. It feels better than you were expecting it to (how can something feel so good when it isn’t down there?) but it doesn’t come close to the feeling of her lips wrapping around the stiff peak of your nipple. You gasp and arch into her. She flicks her tongue and your hand tangles in the thick curls of her hair. She does it again and a small whimper escapes you. You can feel her smile. She begins to trail kisses again and you think she’s going to repeat the same delicious thing until you realise she’s heading down instead of across.

“Wait,” you say, moving your hand to land on her shoulder. She lazily raises her head to look at you.

“Yes, princess?” she says in a tone you don’t have a name for.

It makes something spark between your legs and you determinedly ignore it to be able to speak.

“I want to see you too,” you try to speak as confidently as she did but there’s the tiniest waver to your voice.

She quirks an eyebrow before sitting up, taking her warmth with her. She pulls her own shift off and you think you understand her reaction. She’s beautiful. Your eyes devour every detail from her dark eyes to her pebbled nipples to-

Oh. You stare at it with wide eyes. It had looked so much smaller on the page. 

“Don’t worry, dear. Your body knows what to do.”

She leans back over you and the thing hanging between her thighs nudges your most sensitive spot. She muffles your whimper with a kiss. You cling to her. Excitement and anxiety swirling into a heady mix as she slowly, slowly begins to push inside of you.

“A-Agatha,” you say, your voice high and needy.

Agatha shushes you quietly and continues to slowly push inside of you. Your legs open wider instinctively. It doesn’t help with the stretching feeling. Nor the building tingling sensation. She continues to steadily push inside of you and the slight pain is overshadowed by the feel of her. Her hands tight on your hips, breath hot against your neck, her hips slowly getting closer and closer to yours.

“That’s it. Take it.”

You spread your legs wider, trying to do what she says. You don’t know why she felt the need to say it. You feel so full you can’t do anything but take it.

“Agatha,” you gasp as she bottoms out, nails digging in as you try to ground yourself.

She groans again and her next thrust is harsher than her last one. It forces a whining moan from you as it hits something inside of you that feels so good.

“Knew I had to have this sweet cunt the moment I saw you,” she grunts and settles into a slower, rougher pace. You can’t help the little noise you make every time she bottoms out. “When I found out about this little ritual of yours, I knew I had to fill this sweet cunt.”

Every word builds an unfamiliar fire inside of you. You don’t know what’s happening to you, what she’s doing to you,  but you can feel how big it’s going to be big. The feeling of your pleasure growing as it builds drowns out any worry you may have had. 

You wrap your legs around her waist and pull her tight against you, moaning at how full you feel. It forces Agatha to still.

“Princess,” she says warningly but you don’t care because that thread snaps inside of you.

Pure, unadulterated pleasure flows through you and you’re aware of nothing else.

You come back down to Agatha’s face hovering over yours, eyes devouring your every twitch.

“I- what?” you say, completely at a loss for words.

“You just came dear. And I just came in you,” the look on her face mirrors one of a cat that got the cream.

“You…” you stare up at her with wide eyes as you pulse at those words. “But you didn’t…?” you ask after a moment.

“No,” she confirms and your face drops. Her hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch. “It’s the best time to do it to get the results we want.”

“R-Right,” you stutter and look away, somehow embarrassed by that while she’s still inside of you.

“But you can make it up to me,” she says and you nod eagerly, missing the darker edge to her pleased smile. She pulls out and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. Her hands grip your hips again and you squeak as she manhandles you onto your stomach and then onto your knees. You automatically put your hands under you but a hand on the back of your head pushes your front back down. A pillow finds it way under your hips. This is a position you weren’t taught about.

Agatha’s hands run down your sides, over your hips, down your ass and stop at your thighs. Her thumbs gently hook around your inner lips and you whimper quietly at the feeling, especially since it feels like you’re dripping.

“You look so good full of my cum,” she says in a rough voice.

You feel that clenching feeling again and she chuckles lowly. Fingers brush your sensitive entrance and your hips jerk in surprise before needily pressing back against them. They start low and move up before gently pushing into you. Embarrassment flares through you when you realise that dripping feeling wasn’t just a feeling. She doesn’t comment though. Instead, she languidly pumps her fingers in and out of you, seeming content to enjoy the way you squeeze around her.

“Too bad I can’t feel this when filling you,” she sighs. You want to protest, you feel plenty full right now, but you know what she means. The idea of her pushing her strap back into you has you pressing back on her fingers again. “Probably a good thing. I’d never let you leave this bed.”

You whimper and try to open you legs wider, begging her to understand what you need. She must because she removes her fingers and a moment later the tip of her strap is dragging teasingly through your folds. You arch more, trying to get her inside of you again and unconsciously presenting for her. She groans and fills you with one thrust. She starts slow but hard, making you feel every inch of her. It doesn’t take you long to become a moaning mess again. Sinking into a hazy place you have’t been before. Filled with Agatha grunting above you, her cock filling you, her nails digging into your delicate skin. It’s all you could want.

Agatha gets louder, and slightly higher, and you realise the same thing that happened to you is happening to her. She’s coming. And you don’t get to watch her. 

A strange warmth fills you, one you didn’t notice last time. Agatha leans her forehead against the back of your neck, breathing heavy. 

“Good girl,” she says in such a deep voice that your toes curl.

You stay there for a long moment. Agatha buried deep inside of you, catching her breath as you try to even your own, fire still licking up your insides. It’s an awful sort of tease when she pulls out.

She removes the pillow and pushes you onto your side. Instead of getting up like you’re expecting, she curls around your back. Her fingers trail a light path down from your hip and your muscles jump at the feeling. They stop just above the sensitive button she’s so far neglected.

“Agatha? What’re you- “ you cut yourself off with a gasp as her finger begins to gently circle your clit.

“We have to make sure it sticks, don’t we?” she says.

You were so close to the edge before that it only takes a few firm circles and a swipe to fall over it again. It’s a lot gentler this time but it still has your body locking up in pleasure. Agatha leisurely strokes you through your high, her nose lightly nuzzling the back of your neck.

Her hand moves back to your hip and you bask in the warm afterglow.

Some time later, when both of your breathing has calmed and you’ve slipped into that soft space between awake and sleep, you decide that your mouth is dry enough to drag yourself out of bed for a drink. You don’t get far.

Agatha grabs you arm and rolls you onto your back. You give her a confused look as she climbs back on top of you.

“You are not leaving this bed until there’s no possible way I haven’t put a baby in you.”

[angelpuns]

Mikey stretched his arms up, then out, then stretched each of the fingers. They always ached in the early morning like this, but it was slowly getting better, bit by bit. He pulled on the special gloves Donnie had made him and headed for the kitchen, only yawning a little bit as he went. 

Maybe they'd have something easy today, yesterday’s fight was surprisingly long….

He usually slept like a baby after missions, but something was nagging at him. He hadn't been able to figure it out before bed last night, and the worry seemed to dissipate as he got up for the day. He chalked it up to the whole witch-incident, even if the spell had been a complete dud. 

Some witches just weren't cut out for it, he guessed. 

Mikey was shocked to see the kitchen light was already on, and when he peeked around the corner he got an even more surprising sight. Leo was already up, hand on his hip as he rifled through the cabinet for breakfast. 

“Morning, Leo! I was gonna whip up some eggs and toast if ya wanna wait a little, “ Mikey started, voice soft in case Leo hasn't actually slept, as he seemed to have trouble doing these days. Well, more trouble than usual, anyway. 

Leo didn't answer for a moment, but he did go still. Like he'd heard Mikey, but was afraid to answer. 

“uh…you okay, Lee?” Mikey asked again, slowly walking towards his brother.

After the invasion - which was nearly a year and a half ago now - they'd all had trouble adjusting. They'd been beaten down both mentally and physically, and the recovery was long and slow. They were all still recovering, Leo included. 

So it wasn’t too strange for him to not answer them sometimes, or for him to act strangely for no apparent reason. His panic attacks and nightmares had become less frequent as time went on, but they'd all learned how to help. 

So maybe it was just something like that! Even though Mikey had never had Leo just ignore him like this before. Usually he at least acknowledged him or tried to communicate in other ways. 

Maybe this was just a new development, and they'd help Leo through it like always! 

Leo slowly turned around, with a faintly anxious expression. His breathing was even, though, and his eyes were plenty focused. So not a panic attack, but his demeanor was still…weird. 

Leo stated at him with wide eyes for a moment, before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Um…sorry, this is a really weird question, but…who are you, exactly?” 

Mikey blinked. 

Well, that was new. 

He ran through a list of Leo's previous symptoms, and sometimes, yeah, he didn't exactly recognize them. But this was a clearly very cognizant and not panicking Leo, so it couldn’t be- 

And then Mikey remembered the thing in the back of his mind. The worry that had been lingering since their fight yesterday. 

What if the spell hadn't been a dud? 

“ well this isn't good….”

--------

Another part to that one au idea. I still don't know what to call it, but I'm kinda hopping around the ideas for it. I don't usually write in such little parts like this, so maybe it will become something idk :)

Technically this is exactly how wirm was born so maybe it'll be like that LMAO

But yeah enjoy Mikey being like ' ah yes the trauma' and then realizing that ' oh that's not the trauma '.

This part happens BEFORE the last blurb I posted btw, so I'm labelling it part one :) Chronologically it happens the morning before part two ;)

Part Two

[yuikomorii]

Ayayui date♡

// I'm not sure why, but I suddenly got a burst of creativity. There's no special occasion for this post; it was really just an excuse to edit Yui in my favorite Princess Collection outfit. I like how the merch line was released right on Ayato’s birthday, so I really wanted to see an Ayayui date in those outfits! 😌💕

I was in the mood to write a special scenario again. You just have to click on ‘Keep reading’ to find it. This one is set after the LE events, particularly after the After Story, so I hope you enjoy it! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Ayato: Haa… finally!

After all this time, I’ve managed to sort out every single problem in the Demon World.

Geez, I’m gladly taking a break!

( Ever since I became king, I’ve been buried in an endless pile of documents—so many that I’ve grown sick just being in that place. Things seem to be getting better in the Demon World, though I’d lie to say it’s perfectly stable. )

( Well, whatever. I shouldn’t bother too much about that… for now. )

( Right now, all I can think about is her. Ugh, these stupid king duties have kept us apart for way too long. I’m sure she must’ve felt really lonely, huh…? )

( Damn it! That was never my intention, but I know it must be boring as hell to be stuck in the castle all day by yourself. )

( That’s why, I’m definitely going to make it up to her today and take her somewhere nice~! )

Place: Their room

Ayato: Chi-chi-na-shi, guess who’s ba—

( Hah!? She’s not here? )

Oi, Yui!

( She’s still not answering? )

Yui, where are yo—

???: Ayato-kun..!

— hugs his back —

Ayato: What the—!

Yui: Fufu, sorry for taking you off guard. I was just thrilled to see Ayato-kun again!

Ayato: Geez, next time I call you, answer me, understood? You’re still in the Demon World, anything could happen when no one’s around, y’know?

Yui: Ah… I’m sorry for being careless. I hope I didn’t make you worry…

Ayato: No need to sulk now. What matters the most is that you’re alright.

Now… about the thing you’re wearing. Where the heck did you even get it from? It’s the first time I’ve seen you in it.

Yui: Oh, actually I bought it last time we went shopping together. You see… I didn’t show it to you back then because I wanted it to be a surprise, but uuh… does it not suit me?

Ayato: Haa… normally, when a woman wants to surprise her man, she wears lingerie or something sexy, but I’ll forgive you this time. Why? Because you look hella cute in that, can’t deny.

— Yui blushes —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you! I’m really happy…!

Ayato: ( Is she seriously almost on the verge of tears for that? )

C-C’mon, don’t get all emotional over every little thing. The date hasn’t even started yet! You really want people to see you with red eyes and puffy cheeks outside?

— Yui shakes head —

Ayato: Good, now let’s go!

— He takes her hand —

Place: Kaminashi City

Ayato: Can’t believe I’m gonna say this but I somehow missed this place.

Yui: Is that so? I thought Ayato-kun didn’t like the Human World.

Ayato: I don’t mind either of them, but right now I’m sick of the Demon World. If I see one more document, I will end up throwing up on the spot.

Yui: Ayato-kun…

( That’s right, he’s been working a lot ever since he became king. I’m sure it must truly be tiring spending days in front of all those documents. )

I’m glad you put a lot of effort in your role, but take it easy, okay? I can’t do much in this situation, yet… If you ever need help, I want to be there to support you!

Ayato: Hmm… anyway. I’m not here to talk about work again. I just want us to enjoy some time together for once.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun really sounds exhausted… He’s matured so much these past few months, which isn’t bad, but I just wish he could relax a little. )

Then, let’s make the best of this day!

— tugs onto his arm and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: Haa… it’s way better outside.

( Ayato-kun is still waiting to pay for our things, but it was way too hot in that store, so he told me to get some fresh air. )

( Now that I think about it, vampires are always cold, so I doubt the heat bothers him as much as it does me, right? Even so, seeing him care about my comfort makes me really happy. )

— warm breeze hits —

Yui: Mm… so ni—

— something suddenly hits her —

Yui: Kyah! What on earth was that!?

Eh? That’s—

Familiar: Greetings. Pardon my interruption, but could it be that you are Komori Yui-sama?

Yui: ( ‘Sama’? Uuh… I feel like that’s an exaggeration. )

Yes, I am. Did anything happen…?

Familiar: Rest assured, there is no need for alarm. My purpose here is simply to entrust this to your care. Unable to find Ayato-sama, I must rely on you to deliver him this letter.

— Yui takes it —

Yui: But, what’s this letter about?

If it’s possible to tell, of course.

Familiar: In essence, a new set of documents has been prepared for Ayato-sama. Please inform him at your earliest convenience, as his return is eagerly anticipated.

Yui: Wait! Does it mean that he really has to return now—!

( Oh no! The familiar is already gone! )

( To think that Ayato-kun was finally starting to relax again… )

( All this letter will do is ruin his day, that’s for sure. )

( But at the same time, not showing it to him… that would undoubtedly get him in troubles. )

( Uuh… This situation is so complicated. What should I do…? )

Ayato: Chichinashi!!!

Yui: ….!

— suddenly hides the letter —

A-Ah, Ayato-kun, you’re back!

Ayato: Duh, and I kept calling your name but it seems you only answer to Chi-chi-na-shi~.

— He starts pinching her cheeks —

Yui: Whey dwont, staphh!

Ayato: Hehe, that’s what you get for spacing out and ignoring me.

Anyway, you weren’t approached by any creeps, were you?

Yui: N-No, not at all!

Ayato: Hmm… that doesn’t sound too honest. Are you lying?

Yui: No way! I… I’m just hungry and my stomach won’t stop growling, which is really embarrassing…

Ayato: Haa… you never change. Always getting embarrassed over everything, but no worries, I didn’t hear anything. Though, if you’re really that hungry, I guess we could get something to eat.

Yui: Y-Yeah, that sounds great!

* Timeskip *

Yui: ( After the restaurant, we went to the mall, then back to the center. Ayato-kun… we walked a lot today, but instead of getting tired, he just got more and more energetic. )

( I suppose he was really in need of this break, so maybe hiding that letter wasn’t entirely bad, no…? Still, I’ll have to give it to him today, otherwise I’ll surely put him at risk… )

Ayato: Oi Yui, look!

Yui: W-Woah! I’ve never seen such big Takoyaki before!

Ayato: Heh, right? It’s even bigger than the ones from the Demon World!

Also, Ore-sama got you this, so I better see you eat it all.

Yui: Eh-? This is such a big donut! T-There’s no way I could eat all of it!

Ayato: So you’re refusing my donut? You’re way too ungrateful for a Chichinashi. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need it any—

Yui: No, no, the donut is good!

— starts eating it —

Come to think of it, today you’ve spoiled me quite a lot, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: And why would that be bad? I thought women liked that.

Yui: It’s not bad, but I really didn’t do anything special. You’re the one who’s been working all day and night, for this reason I believe you deserve this treatment more.

Ayato: Haa… getting all self-conscious, just like always.

Look, you know I’m not good at sentimental shit, but after everything we’ve been through, your presence is special enough for me.

I guess I just want to cherish you, that’s all.

Yui: Ayato-kun… I feel the——

A-Ah, oh no!

( The chocolate… it melted on my hand! )

I-I’m sorry, I’ll be right back!

— tries to stand up —

Ayato: Nah, nah. C’mere.

— grabs her and sits her on his lap —

Yui: Wait, don’t!

— he starts licking her hand —

Yui: A-Ayato-kun, stop it! We’re in public…!

Ayato: Mnn… Mm…

— slowly bites —

Yui: Uuh…

( At this rate, people will definitely start watching!)

— starts moving —

Ayato: Tch, you’re making this way too hard for both! Just stay still and stop acting like I’m about to kill you!

Yui: ( I know his intentions aren’t bad, but this is getting too embarrassing…! )

( I’m sorry, Ayato-kun! )

— tries to push him away but falls down —

Yui: Oww…

Ayato: ( Geez, what a klutz. )

Haa… are you hurt?

— grabs her arm and picks her up —

Yui: Ah, I’m alright, no worries.

Ayato: Oi.

What’s that?

— picks something up —

Yui: ….!

Ayato: Is that… a letter for me?

— starts reading it —

You… you had it all this time with you and didn’t say a word?!

Yui: I… I can explain!

You see, I thought—

Ayato: Shut up!

Do you even have the slightest clue about what you just did!? I seriously doubt you understand how important king duties are, do you?

Hah, of course, you don’t! Why would you?

You sit around doing absolutely nothing all day while I’m working my ass off to make sure you and everyone else can live comfortably!

I’m out here putting in the effort, grinding to create a decent life, not just for you, but for everyone, even if I didn’t ask for this shit. And you do this to me!?

I thought you matured too, but at the end of the day, you’re nothing but a selfish bitch!

Yui: Wait! Ayato-ku—

Ayato: Don’t touch me!

Yui: …!

Please, listen to me!

— grabs his clothes —

Ayato: Quiet! I’m not risking to go through that again only because of someone like you. Get lost!

— pushes her away and leaves —

Yui: …!

No… No… this can’t be the end…

How… How could I be this stupid…? Hhn… Ngh…

Kuh… Ayato-kun.. Nhn…

Place: Avenue

Ayato: (Fuck! I can’t return to the Demon World right now. )

( On top of that, why the hell am I the one feeling guilty now!? )

( She… Yes, she deserved that treatment. That’s what she gets for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Besides, what she did could lead to something dangerous. )

( It’s not the first time she pulls such shit on me anyway, but… )

( Why can’t I stay mad at her no matter what she does to me…? )

Tch, such bullsh— Hah?

Guy 1: Aww, she’s playing hard to get~!

Guy 2: Aren’t you a bit too feisty for a crybaby?

???: S-Stop it! Leave me alone!

Ayato: …!

( That voice… Yui! )

Place: Alley

Yui: I-I told you to stop!

Guy 1: Just come with us, it’ll be fun~.

Yui: No, I don’t want to!

Guy 2: She keeps struggling, isn’t she cu——

— gets punched —

Guy 1: What the—

Guy 2: Such strength!

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: Get out of my sight, you bastards! If you don’t leave this girl alone right now, I’ll make sure your already disgusting faces get even worse!

— they start running away —

Yui: Ayato-kun… thank you!

( He came back for me… )

Ayato: ….

— grabs her hand and starts walking —

*Timeskip*

Yui: ( Ever since Ayato-kun saved me, he hasn’t spoken a word. )

( It’s obvious that he’s mad… )

( But if both of us keep quiet, this conflict will never be solved… )

Ayato & Yui simultaneously: I’m sorry.

Yui: ( Eh? Did he just— )

No… I’m the one who should apologize. I hid that letter, knowing full well the consequences it could have.

However… I only did it because I wanted Ayato-kun to have some free time for himself too.

Ayato: You…

Yui: I’m aware of how much work you have to do, and being king is definitely not easy. That’s why, I really admire your for that.

Nevertheless, it saddens me seeing Ayato-kun so stressed out and exhausted. I want Ayato-kun to be always as energetic and cheerful as he was today, but… I do realize that I’m just being selfish.

Ayato: No… You… You’re not selfish, I am.

I was the one who didn’t listen to your side of the story. It’s just... I’m afraid of failing as king. There, I said it!

I don’t want to put the people I care for in danger, nor can’t I accept being a worse king than that old fart, so all I have to do is carry out my duties. Hell yeah, they’re a pain in the ass but that’s my responsibility now, which is why I can’t back off.

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… I never thought you felt that way… )

N-no, the way you reacted was understandable. Anyone under that much stress might have done the same, and I can’t blame you for it.

Besides, I can’t say your words were wrong. I am indeed incapable of fully understanding the challenges you face, however… no matter what happens, I want you to know that you’ll always be the best king to me…!

Ayato: …!

Heh… you really never change.

— hugs her—

Yui: W-Well, I suppose I can’t change if I do nothing all day.

Ayato: Hmph, are you throwing shade at me for what I told you?

Yui: Eh? No way, it was just a coincidence! I swear!

Ayato: Pfft, proved my point. You'll forever stay the clumsy, stupid, and oddly adorable woman that you are.

Yui: Hey, that’s backhan— Mm…!

Ayato: Nn…

Yui: ( Ayato-kun… his kiss is so gentle… )

( I really missed Ayato-kun’s kisses. I’m so happy…! )

Ayato: Oi, don’t tell me you’re about to cry again.

Yui: I’m not but…

I just want to know, will the letter get Ayato-kun in troubles…?

Ayato: I might get some weird looks for not showing up on time, and maybe a lecture or two, but it shouldn’t be too bad. I was supposed to start on them today since there’s a lot, but... I think I’d rather spend my time with my girl instead.

Yui: Is that so? Thank you.

But doesn't that mean you'll have to work even harder to make up for today?

Ayato: I guess it can’t be helped. I don’t want to think of tomorrow, all I want is to focus on the present.

Yui: Fufu, I see. By the way…

Will you uhm… stay overnight too?

Ayato: Heh~? Is that supposed to be a sex invitation?

Yui: I… T-That’s—!

Ayato: Heh~, don’t even try to get out of it, it’s written all over your face.

Rest assured though, the invitation is accepted~.

— Smooch —

[jjunieworld]

Hi!! I really enjoy your blog and all the works you do (The valentine's specials and all for a bet are honestly my lifeline rn). I don't know if it's too much to ask, but txt and academic rivals seems like such a good idea (especially Taehyun, like, look at him). And maybe even academic rivals with benefits?!??! It's been in my mind for a long time, and I needed to share it with someone 🧎‍♀️

ˋ🧾 ‎⸝⸝⸝ academic rival!taehyun!

a/n: omg so true anon, i love academic rival!taehyun!!! i’m glad you came to me with this!! also sorry for the delay ahhh :((

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader

warnings: mean dom!taehyun, hair pulling, degradation, taehyun calls reader a slut once, unprotected sex (don’t!), spanking, creampie, manhandling, bantering

you didn’t intentionally mean to be academic rivals with taehyun… it just somehow happened. at first it was him noticing that you were slowly climbing the ranks in your shared classes. then it was you scoring just below him, and then above him all together…

that’s when the bantering began. “you really think you can beat me? that you’re better than me?” taehyun would sneer in passing as your class cleared out. “i know i’m better. the test scores don’t lie, taehyun!” you would sneer back. always the back and forth with the two of you.

one time you caught him on your way out of the library after studying for your upcoming exam. as soon as you saw him, your face immediately twisted. “ready to fail?” taehyun asked, a smug smirk on his lips. you would just laugh at him, “are you? i guarantee you i’ll get a better score than you!”

poor sweet, naive you… you had fallen right into taehyun’s trap. his smirk would widen, almost a cruel curl of his lips at what he was going to do to you. “i’ll be waiting to see tears roll down that pretty face of yours when you realize you’ll never surpass me,” he would say lowly, leaning into you to make sure you heard every word.

you didn’t know how you ended up in taehyun’s bed that night, face pressed into the sheets with your ass up as he rammed into your pretty pussy from behind. didn’t know how your pathetic moans were coming out muffled and how taehyun groaned at the creamy wet sounds and his skin slapping against yours as he pushed his hard cock in and out of you :((

“you think you’re still better than me, huh?” taehyun asked, strong hands gripping your hips. all you could manage to do is mewl. he then would grab a fistful of your hair, pulling you up so your bare back was against his chest. he would smile at the tears streaming down your face and your knitted eyebrows as he thrusted deeper. “i can’t hear you, my pretty little slut. i thought you were smarter than me. what? you can’t form words now?”

and you would try, you really would try to form coherent words… but his big cock stretching out your walls as you clench helplessly would be too much for you :( taehyun would relish in knowing this, a chuckle on his lips. “such a smart girl… so dumb for me. so dumb on my cock… such a shame,” he would coo, giving your ass a hard smack, and that would have you cumming around him in seconds.

he would let you fall back down to the bed as his fingers dug into your hips, his own release approaching. “do i have to fuck you like this… until you get it into that pretty little head of yours?” his voice coming out breathy as his warm cum fills you more. he would pull you to him again, you too fucked out to notice the change in position as he chased his high, the moans and whimpers spilling out you loud and freely. “until you understand that you’ll always be beneath me?”

on your exam, true to his word, you were under him. cheeks heating up as he gave you a smug smile from across the room. you couldn’t even begin to care about getting a score lower than him — it was still an A+ anyways. all you could care about — think about — was him fucking the absolute shit out of you the night before.

the fact that i’m also writing an academic rival!sunghoon fic right now is actually so funny 😭😭 academic rivals where they end up fucking the shit out of each other >>>

masterlist┊request rules

[bloody-peach]

The Sun Always Shines on TV (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x Reader)

SURPRISE! I'm not dead! So my buddy @omniuravity got me into Hazbin and especially my new husband Vox, and after a few headcanon chats, I just HAD to write something. So I did. Is it canon to Vox's behavior? I dunno, I haven't seen the full season, but I've seen clips, and I think I at least got a vague idea. So, sorry if not, but oh well. Still fun! This was kind of done in a rush of hyperfixation, so sorry if it's a bit rough. Anyways, enjoy!

Taglist: @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk @omniuravity and anyone else who loves Hazbin and Vox!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

It was midnight when the hourglass finally ran out. The counter read '000', showing that time was up. You knew what today was.

Extermination Day was here again.

The day where angels would come down to hell and massacre hundreds of sinners as a form of population control. You could hear the screams of terror outside as crowds of sinners would scurry and try to escape their fates. You could've easily been in that crowd, getting impaled through the gut by an angel's spear.

Vox pulls you close to him, his arm around you as he watched the carnage from the couch on the large TV. He knew that it was hard for you to watch sinners get butchered alive, so he would let you hide your face in his chest when things got gory. When he heard you whimper, he looks at you, a concerned look on his face, saying, "You ok, Y/N?" You look at him and nod, "Yeah..it's just...it could be me out there...what if I'm next?" Vox brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear and said, "You won't be. As long as I'm here, you're safe. I won't let them hurt you." You hug him, snuggling in his chest for comfort, glad that he was there.

In truth, Vox was just as scared as you were. You could easily be in the crosshair of an angel if you were out on the streets. He would low-key panic if you weren't there with him each Extermination Day. He couldn't stand the idea of losing you, not to anything or anyone.

He still remembers seeing you watch his show from an electronics storefront. He noticed how you were drawn to the show, but somehow, his hypnosis didn't have an effect on you. But he was amazed that even without it, you still tuned in and watched with excitement. That day, he felt there was something special about you, so he kept a close eye on you, watching you through various tv screens when you weren't looking. Then one day, he met you through a chance encounter.

You worked at Valentino's studio as the camera operator and Vox happened to show up one day. You caught a glimpse of Vox talking with Valentino and you couldn't stop staring at him. You felt a ball of anxiety in your gut build as you watched him, admiring his good looks, charismatic attitude, and mesmerizing voice. You couldn't help but swoon to yourself.

"Y/N! Are you listening?!" Valentino's voice broke your daze and you quickly ran to him, so not to enrage him. "I-I'm sorry sir! I-I just sent the footage to the editor and they'll get it done right away!" Vox saw as Val smiled at you and he felt a bit of rage. He didn't like how Val looked at you with his sleazy gaze, undressing you with his eyes. He's the only one who should be allowed to do that.

Once you started to walk away, Vox trips you and you start to fall, but he catches you before you could hit the ground. You look at him and could feel your face blush and your heart flutter. You stood up and bowed your head, "I'm sorry sir!" "Hey, no need to apologize. And no need to call me 'sir', either. Just call me Vox. Now, who may you be?" "I..I'm Y/N..." "Y/N...what a nice name. So you work for Val?" You nod, saying, "Yeah, I work the camera." Vox walks closer to you, saying, "Oh, sweetheart, your cute face doesn't deserve to be hidden behind a camera. It deserves to be displayed on TV." You blushed pure red and Vox knew he had you in his grasp.

Vox buys you off of Val and he lets you live with him at his mansion. While you were amazed by the opulence an overlord possessed, all that mattered to you was that you were with Vox. As things went on, Vox noticed how caring you were towards him, comforting him when he was stressed out over Alastor or helping him fix his screen or repair his wires when he gets hurt. He would always turn to you for comfort before anyone else. He always enjoyed being around you, loving the way you laughed, smiled, made jokes, everything. Eventually, he realized that he was in love with you.

When Extermination Day came, you were just leaving the porn studio from a long night of doing re-shoots. The bell rang and you felt your heart sink. You tried to look where to hide, pushing your way through the screaming crowd. You pass by the electronics shop when you hear a familiar voice. "Y/N! Over here!" You turned and saw Vox's face on a screen. "Vox! It's time! Extermination Day! Oh my god, what do I do?!" "Listen to me, you're not too far from where I am. Find a place to hide and stay there, I'll come get you. Ok?" You nod, tears in your eyes. He sees your fear and says in a comforting voice before signing off, "It'll be okay, Y/N. I won't let them hurt you."

With that, you look and find a dumpster. You immediately hop inside and hide, keeping quiet. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as you laid there, your anxiety and fear through the roof. You kept hoping that Vox would get there soon. You then feel a wire coil around your waist and pull you out of the dumpster and hold you. You look and see it was Vox, carrying you and rushing back to his house, dodging any angel nearby.

Once you got inside, Vox grabbed you and held you, causing your emotions to crash over you as the adrenaline ran out. You hugged him tightly and cried into his chest. "Shh, shh, it's okay now, Y/N. I'm here. You're safe. You're..safe..."

You could hear tears choked up in his voice and he hugged you tightly as you both dropped to your knees. He tried to hold back his tears, but he couldn't.

He could've lost you. When he heard the bells ring, he was so scared. He needed to find you and take you home. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't. Not you. He scanned every television in the district to find you and was so relieved when he did. He rushed out the door and ran towards the studio. And now that you were here in his arms, where he knew you were safe, he started to break down. His screen started to glitch and his audio started to skip as he tried to control himself. He was usually an narcissistic egomaniac, caring about himself, but when it came to you..it was all different. He needed you.

"Vox.."

"Y/N..please...stay with me...don't go...I love you..please..."

Those words made you cry even more, out of joy now.

"Vox...I love you too..."

"Y/N.."

And with that, you both cry out your built up emotions and soon, you both were in bed together, forgetting the world outside and only listening to each other's moans and words of love.

Ever since, Vox claimed your soul and you were now permanently his. From now on, you were under his protection. If any demon fucked with you or disrespected you, that was a direct insult to him and they would be dealt with. You would work as his assistant and co-host on some of his shows, entertaining thousands of viewers all over Hell. And whenever Extermination Day hit, you stayed at home with him, sitting with him on the couch and listening to him cheer and laugh as each sinner was killed. Sometimes it helped you, other times it didn't. But he knew that.

Vox stands up from the couch and shuts off the TV, saying "Come on, let's get to bed. It should be over soon anyways." You nod, following him. It's not too long til you both lay in bed, holding each other close. The bedroom was higher up from the ground floor, so the screams and sounds of death were much more distant. You lay your head on his chest and you hear his circuits buzzing rapidly, a sign of his anxiety. You lift your head and look at him, concerned. "Vox? Are you okay, honey?" He looks at you and smiles, but his face gave away that today kind of disturbs him too. It would remind him of the day that he almost lost you. He cupped your cheek and said softly, "I am, knowing that you're with me." You smile and lean up, kiss him softly and tenderly, the kiss showing so much love. Vox reciprocated the kiss and held you close. Once you broke the kiss, you hear the bell ring out, signaling the end of the annual massacre. Vox chuckled, saying, "Perfect. Now I can get some sleep. Night, babe." You lay on him, your head resting on his chest as you respond, "Night, sweetie. I love you." Vox wrapped his arms around you, gently rubbing your back as he said softly, "I love you too, Y/N."

~~~♡♡♡~~~

I hope you all like it!!