#feel free to send someone to visit him

[scarsofra]

Malik sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest from under his blanket. He was on the couch, having no plans to leave his apartment until his birthday was over. His TV was on, but he was barely focused on what shitty drama was currently playing.

His siblings sent him their annual "you should try and do something good for yourself" messages that he typically brushed off. He knew that they were right, but it was much easier said than done.

He rested his chin against his knees and let out a frustrated groan. "Dammit--!"

[ceilidho]

BIRD DOG | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

MOODBOARD · AO3

A few times a year, Simon goes home to an empty apartment in a shithole city and counts down the days until he can leave. This time, there's someone waiting for him when he comes home.

Convenient. He was already planning on ordering takeaway.

Or: the live-in masseuse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB reader - Freeform, Masseuse Reader, Forced Cohabitation, Strangers to Roommates to Lovers, Porn with Feelings

The mangled hand of fate lets him go but seldomly. 

He does, though, get a few weeks off a year. Bids farewell to his captain (the barest hint of a nod after leaving each other on the runway, chopper blades spinning faster and faster, the other man headed back out, his duties never finished; the world can never let them both rest at the same time) and then he’s gone, bags long packed and truck loaded the night before last. He drives a long, circuitous route after leaving the military base, the mask only shed when the paranoid prickle in his head finally abates. 

It never quite goes away though.

And then comes the drive back, the road long and the drudgery endless. One hand on the wheel, the other hanging out of the side of the truck, a cigarette pinched between two knuckles. Occasionally, he takes a drag. 

This is the part he always hates. The drive back. Roads winding through quiet towns and over hills, blue disappearing into black, streetlights piercing the darkness and demarcating the beginning and end of civilization. Manchester is a long drive north. He stops once for a piss by the side of the road and then carries on. 

It’s a wonder they let him go at all. He is violence forthright; setting him free does no one any good. It’s hardly even a reward for him, more of just a pretense of normalcy. A week to stretch his legs, so to speak. If he were anything other than human, maybe they’d force him to stay on base indefinitely, secured and contained behind barbed wire fences and reinforced concrete walls.

But a few times a year, they play this game and send him off into the world.

There’s an apartment in Manchester that he’s rented for as long as he can remember. A shithole flat in a shithole borough, and though Simon’s squirreled away enough money to buy a place of his own, the thought of owning anything makes his skin crawl. It’s not in his blood, he thinks. He’d sooner live in a shack in the woods, no fixed address or way to find him. Even his flat in Manchester is rented under a different name, and he pays his landlord in cash for the year. 

It’s dark when he reaches the city, the sky soot black and patchy with clouds. Moon nowhere in sight. Nothing beautiful ever visits Manchester. 

But there’s a light on in the window when he pulls up in front of his place.

Odd.

Would’ve remembered if he left the light on the last time he was in town months ago; filament would’ve blown out in at least that time as well. Still, there’s a light on in the living room window and a new curtain pulled across to keep anyone from looking in.

Simon stares at the light while he leans outside against the truck and finishes his cigarette. Stubs it out under his boot when it’s down to the filter and locks the car door behind him. Violence already itches under his skin, knuckles tingling like they know what’s coming if he opens that door and finds some junkie living in his flat. It’ll be worse if he finds out that his scumbag landlord moved someone else in after picking up on him being gone nearly half the year.

His key still works though. Fancy that. 

He finds you like that, sitting up from a nap on his couch, sweater slouched down a shoulder and groggily blinking open big doe eyes that widen when you notice him in the doorway, fear making you freeze up. 

You’re a pretty little thing; a pleasant surprise to find something like you sitting on his couch. It quells the violence simmering in his belly because it awakens another appetite instead. Like a meal delivered right to his door. He was already planning on ordering takeaway. 

He drops the duffel bag by his feet, propping the door open with it. “You lost, bird?”

Terror leaves you mute. He can only imagine; he must seem like something straight from a horror movie—defenceless girl waking up to the dead-eyed stare of a giant dressed in all black watching her sleep and blocking her only way out. That’s not completely true; there’s a backdoor through the kitchen that leads into a laneway behind the house, but the door sticks in the winter, not easy to open in a hurry. 

He has as much right to ask as you do to run at the sight of him though, considering it is his fuckin’ flat. 

You can’t seem to choke out a single word. Scared stiff, likely, heart slamming against your chest while the worst scenarios possible play out in your mind. Simon nearly rolls his eyes. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he grumbles, finally kicking his bag out of the way so the door can shut behind him. “Cat got your tongue or somethin’?”

The sound of the door slamming shut must finally snap you out of it because you scramble off the couch, nearly tripping over the arm when you run for the back. Screaming too, just to piss him off extra. His back already aches something fierce from the long drive—he wasn’t expecting a headache on top of everything else. 

“Heeeeeeeeelp! Heeeeelp!” 

Your screams are borderline deafening, almost more aggravating than finding someone living in his flat in the first place. 

You scramble down the hall, so terrified that you go for the first open door, slamming it shut behind you. His eyes follow the shape of your bare legs and the way the muscles in your ass move as you run. 

“I’m c-calling the police!” you yell from behind the bathroom door. 

When Simon looks back down the hall, he notices your phone on the floor, bright side up. Must have dropped out of your pocket when you bolted like a scared cat.

“No, you’re not,” he says blandly, staring at the door. There’s a pause on the other side like you just noticed your missing phone, then a bleat of panic. “Don’t try going out the window either—thing’s been sealed shut since the nineties.”

On the other side of the door, the window rattles in its frame for a good few seconds before you give up on trying to escape that way. There’s a pause while you consider your options. Simon waits patiently on the other side of the door, his temper slowly but surely getting the better of him the longer he goes without a shower and a beer, locked out of his own bathroom. 

What a bloody headache. 

He pounds a fist against the door, bracing his feet in case you try to open it and scurry out around him before he’s had a chance to have a chat. “Gonna come out now?”

“Get out of my house!” you shriek instead of being polite. 

Figures. He should’ve known his landlord would pull some shit like this. “How long’ve you been living here, bird?” 

“I have a knife!”

Pretty thing that likes to lie. There’s not a shot you have anything better than a hair dryer or nail clippers in there. 

“Better get away from the door ‘cause I’m kickin’ it in,” he announces, taking a step back to give himself some distance and waiting a few seconds for you to realize that he’s dead serious before you start screaming at the top of your lungs again. 

Got quite a set on you. That doesn’t matter much to him though. The door caves in after only a few good kicks, the frame splitting right up through the lock when it finally gives, and the two halves—the door itself nearly snapped in half—banging against the wall when it ricochets open. 

You’re trembling between the toilet and the wall when Simon walks in, knees practically knocking together. The crotch of your shorts are wet and there’s a small puddle under you; must’ve pissed yourself in fear, and he’d almost pity you if you weren’t squatting in his flat. 

The closer he gets to you, the harder you wail. Full on bawling now, snot and drool dribbling down your face, and Christ, he sure picked a bad time to grow a heart. He’s not immune to a pretty girl in distress, much as he wishes he could be. 

He kneels in front of you, purposefully blocking your only way out, before knocking his knuckles under your chin, huffing out a breath when you flinch. “Ain’t gonna hurt you, bird. You’re just in my flat, is all.”

“Your flat?” you repeat in disbelief. “This is my flat. I pay rent!”

“Got a lease then?” he asks, and though your eyes are still bloodshot and your nose is still leaking, you nod. 

“Yes.”

“Show me then,” he orders. 

And you do when he steps back to give you some space, scampering shamefully to your—his—bedroom to rifle through the dresser until you pull out a handful of papers that look suspiciously like a lease. He skims it with a growing tick in his eye. It looks like one because it is one.

“See?” you mumble. He ignores the attitude in favour of reading until the end, where he finds his landlord’s name, the blotchy signature underneath it unmistakable. 

“Bullshit,” he grunts through his teeth.

“It’s not. You can call him and ask! Where’s yours?” 

His copy of the lease is tucked away in a drawer in the kitchen, buried under loose rubber bands, old batteries, and takeout menus from restaurants that went under years ago. When he returns with it and holds it up to your nose, you frown.

“Oh. I guess that explains some things.”

“Explains some things, huh? The clothes didn’t tip you off?” Simon asks, referring to the sweatpants and shirts still lining the dresser shelves. Your lips tighten. 

“I thought the previous tenant skipped town and left his clothes. I was gonna throw them out eventually.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” His voice is thick with sardonicism. 

It’s an interesting standoff to say the least. You, standing there in your soiled sleep shorts with tear-streaked cheeks, and him still decked out in his military gear and boots tracking dirt across the flat. You sway on your feet, the adrenaline crash likely intense. He catches you when you sway too close to him and you flinch when his hand clamps down over your shoulder, a new wave of adrenaline coursing through you. 

“I’m fine,” you snap, taking a step away.

For fuck’s sake. His mood darkens at the continued hostility. It’s not like you’re the one who came home to a strange man squatting in your flat—if anyone has a right to be hostile, it’s him. 

Skittering back into the bedroom, you shut the door behind you, likely to change into another pair of shorts. Simon’s mood festers the longer he waits for you to come out. The last string of his patience nearly snaps when you finally creep back out into the living room, the sour expression on your face pissing him off even more.

“I’m gonna call Tom,” you mutter, picking your phone off the coffee table.

“Go ahead.” He doesn’t bring up that it won’t change a thing. Not his problem if you’re so green behind the ears that you think your landlord will drop everything to answer a call, especially after dinner. 

No one answers when you ring, just as he thought. He plops down on the couch and rests a foot on the coffee table, ignoring the way you pace back and forth waiting for your landlord to pick up.

“No answer?” Simon asks rhetorically. 

“Aren’t you gonna try?” you ask.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. When ‘e’ll actually pick up.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do then? I’m not getting a hotel room for the night.”

“Me neither, birdie.”

He meets your stare with one of his own. It doesn’t take long for you to give in. 

There’s a pullout bed in the couch that you offer to take and he lets you because he is, at the end of the day, a selfish prick who won’t give up a week of decent sleep for anybody. Not when his back and neck have been acting up for the past month and keeping him from getting more than three hours at a time. 

The ache behind his eyebrow throbs as Simon sits on the edge of the bed. A slow exhale. 

Tomorrow can’t come quick enough.

In the morning, Simon rings his landlord and listens silently as the fuckhead blubbers on the other end of the phone about late payments and eviction notices.

“This ain’t a charity, y’know,” the other man sniffs. “I gotta pay my bills too.”

He lets the man make excuse after excuse and accuse him of this and that until he finally goes silent when he notices Simon hasn’t said a word in minutes. At which point, Simon icily reminds him of what he does for a living and the fact that he paid him for the year in full just a few months back. 

Not much to be done after that. There’s silence on the other end before his landlord tries to hem and haw his way out of it. He offers Simon one of his other properties currently sitting vacant on the other side of town, but that’s not the answer that Simon is looking for. 

“If anyone’s moving out, it ain’t me,” Simon growls into the phone. 

The wounded look that you shoot at him rubs him the wrong way.

His landlord’s still rambling on about moving costs and lawyer fees when Simon hangs up, no longer in the mood to try and talk things out. 

He doesn’t really understand the legalities here, but he knows he can’t just toss you out on your ass when you’ve also got a lease, same as him.  

“I have every right to be here,” you start up the second he hangs up the phone, not letting him get a word in edgewise, shoulders rolled back like you’re trying to be assertive. “I’ll take it to court if I have to.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Simon scrubs a hand down his face. 

“I’m serious. Rent is expensive and this is the only place close enough to where I work that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg—and I don’t have the money to hire a lawyer to get my money back—”

“I’m not gonna kick you out,” he finally snaps, fed up with your caterwauling. 

You pause, hope warring with disbelief. “You’re not?”

He gives a curt shake of his head. “Too much of a headache. I’m only…in town for a week anyway.”

“Oh. ‘Til when?”

“‘Til whenever I’m back.” Purposefully cryptic. He gives you a flat look when you open your mouth to pry some more. 

You reconsider, chewing your bottom lip until a better question occurs to you. “Are you in town a lot? Because I’m not sure how else we could make this work. I could sleep at my cousin’s until you leave?”

“Your cousin live around here?”

You hesitate. “No.”

“Then that ain’t gonna work, is it?”

“At least I’m trying,” you hiss, and Simon has to tamp down the amusement that swirls in his chest at the sight of your shoulders puffing up. “I’m not ripping up my lease and if you’re not either, then we have to figure out something unless you feel like taking this to court.”

While Simon wouldn’t usually take kindly to being threatened, his annoyance never quite develops into anything more substantial. 

“Just keep outta my way and I’ll keep outta yours,” he says. 

“Fine.”

The agreement you come to is that when he’s in town—seldom and erratic—he’ll take the bedroom and you’ll sleep on the couch, a fair compromise since you have the flat to yourself the rest of the year. 

He doesn’t explain himself, of course. Doesn’t explain why he’s allowing this instead of dragging you to court kicking and screaming. It’s no one’s business but his why he chooses not to go down that road.

He tells himself that it’s easier this way; that it’s easier just to run your lease out and spare himself the legal mess. It’s not like he’ll even be around most of the time anyway. 

What he carefully side steps, even in his own mind, is the sharp displeasure that accompanies the thought of forcing you out of his flat and onto the streets.   

Cohabitation is—

Easy wouldn’t be the right word. He certainly doesn’t make it easy on you, leaving his dirty dishes in the sink and his half-empty beer cans in the shower caddy, his cum drying on the wall over the tub spout. You try to do the same by leaving your dirty laundry on the communal furniture, but it doesn’t have the same effect. 

It’s interesting, at least. It’s not as though he’s never lived with anyone before—his memories of his early years in the service are littered with bunkmates packed into every corner of the room, and learning to sleep everywhere from moving caravans to while standing in formation, always surrounded by other people—but he’s paid his dues. Barring deployment, he thought he’d earned the luxury of his privacy. 

But it’s not all bad; it’s been years since he had fun like this. 

You try your best to annoy him in return, but you don’t realize that you’re playing chicken with a man who’s been buried alive. There isn’t much someone like you could do to break him. 

Living with another person doesn’t soften him up one bit. There’s a time for change and it’s not off the back of a four-month covert operation, his nerves still razor sharp and ability to sleep practically nonexistent. He gets precious few weeks to himself and he isn’t going to waste them trying to get in the habit of smoking on the porch instead of in his own living room. 

“I’m a masseuse.”

“Oh yeah?” Simon grunts, barely listening. There’s a match on the telly and a beer in his other hand—a perfect afternoon, if only you’d just stop yapping in his ear for five fuckin’ minutes. 

“Yes, and I can’t show up to work reeking like a chimney,” you explain, scooching closer to him on the couch while being careful to leave some distance between the two of you. For all your posturing, you’re still timid around him, like a kitten hissing and spitting around a much bigger cat. 

“What’s that got to do with me?” he asks rhetorically, not in the slightest interested in how it pertains to him. He takes another drag from the cigarette dangling between his index and middle finger, ashing it over the side of the couch. 

“It means I’d prefer if you didn’t smoke in the flat,” you say, hissing the last few words. 

He takes another drag, turning to look at you before exhaling right in your face. “That’s a shame.”

You cough and squawk, and he fights down a grin. 

For the most part, he leaves you to your own devices, intent only on enjoying his time off. He fixes the bathroom door at least, which you begrudgingly thank him for. 

A week and a bit, Simon reminds himself when you come in through the front door chirping into your phone, your voice effectively drowning out the TV on in the background. When you spot him staring at you from the couch, you go quiet as a mouse and slink off to the bathroom, locking the (newly installed) door behind you. He supposes it’s the only place where you feel any semblance of privacy since his bedroom is off limits until he leaves. It does leave him without a bathroom though. 

Pissing in the alleyway behind the flat half an hour later, he scowls into the darkness and reminds himself that he has no one to blame but himself for this mess.  

When his leave comes to an end, Simon doesn’t bother to give you a heads up. You’ll realize it in a couple of days when you notice his absence around the flat, the siege finally lifted. He supposes you’ll be grateful for his departure and grateful not to make you feign politeness.  

Duffel bag packed away in the car, he leaves with the bed still unmade. Knows that’ll ruffle your feathers later on when you come home, but it’s his parting gift. His reminder to you to enjoy the couple months reprieve his job allows you. 

And then the road slips away under him and he’s gone. 

The months away are just complex rearrangements of the same thing. Each time it drives his soul deeper into the gully, buffeted by katabatic winds. 

His daily life on base is split into brackets of time. Wake up, go to the gym, work, clock out, see the captain for a drink. Wash, rinse, repeat. Each day blending into the next. Back where he belongs, under the thumb of a system that he’s long sold his body and freedom to, and sent out God knows where to do God knows what. 

Then, again the rooster crows at first light and he lifts himself out of bed.

When he’s deployed, everything changes while everything stays the same. He doesn’t have the same freedom of movement as he does on base, but in truth very little changes from one deployment to the next if you zoom out enough. Limited time to sleep on the chopper before it touches down, body tensed for what’s to come, and then he’s off, his objectives clear. 

Driving a knife into a neck to the hilt and pulling it out one inch at a time. It’s the one he knows how to do, and he does it well. He doesn’t have to like what he does; he doesn’t even have to think about it so long as it gets done. 

Ghost exhales and slips the mask back on.

In [redacted city] in [redacted country], he sets his scope up in the window of a building across from one where his target is slated to be in twelve hours and then he waits. Flexes his fingers when they go numb and ignores the thirst clawing up his throat. Four hours later, his elbows ache something fierce from digging into the ground for hours on end, a sharp pain shooting up his arms, but Ghost pays it no mind. Mind over matter. 

Amidst the hours of laying there and waiting for his target to come into frame, his mind doesn’t wander. That’s a luxury for a different time—when the job is done and his target is executed. 

At the very edges of his consciousness though, something flickers. The skin around his eyes pinches as he pushes the half-formed thought away. 

Then his target walks into the room and everything else disappears.

You’re still there when he returns months later on another government ordered leave. Same petulant frown and wobbly lower lip when he walks in through the front door, dripping wet from the rain outside. When he tosses his duffel bag onto the couch, you scowl, nudging the bag onto the floor with your foot. 

“You could’ve rang,” you mumble, pulling the throw from the back of the couch over your lap to hide your bare legs. Pity to be deprived of a nice view, but Simon doesn’t take it to heart. 

“Didn’t think you’d still be ‘ere,” he grunts instead, shrugging out of his jacket and shaking it dry, suppressing a smirk when you start squawking about getting water all over the floor. 

That’s partly a lie, though not one he’ll ever admit to. Simon figured there might be a chance you’d be gone, but in the time since he last saw you, he’s done enough digging around online to know that you weren’t kidding about the lack of affordable flats in the area. There’s hardly a unit nearby that isn’t going for double what he pays, some even more. 

“Well, guess I’m sleeping out here tonight,” you grumble. You’re on your tiptoes in the doorway to the living room now, the throw wrapped around you like a security blanket. 

He doesn’t answer that. No point getting your hopes up when he has no intention of giving up the bed. 

In another life, he might be enough of a gentleman to let you sleep in the bedroom while he takes the couch, but in this one, his back is ravaged by sciatica and his dominant hand and wrist twinge with the beginning of carpal tunnel syndrome. Most nights, it’s a miracle if he can get five uninterrupted hours. 

So no, he won’t be giving up the bed.

But Simon toys with the thought of dragging you in with him. It’s been awhile since he had a woman, so long that the memory is fuzzy when he dredges it up, and though his hand does the job when the itch grows severe, he’s no monk. He could pull you in with little effort, sweet talk you until your knickers are around your ankles and your legs are in the air, hot cunt steaming when your legs part and he sinks his cock in deep. Wouldn’t take more than a half dozen thrusts before he busted, pretty pussy painted with his cum.

In the doorway, you eye him dubiously, scrunched nose expressing your discontent. 

It’s an idea, at least.

He still leaves his dishes in the sink and wakes to you pounding on the bedroom door, whining about having to scrub his plates with a pot scraper, but time and distance have mellowed any hostility in you. You treat him less like a stranger intruding on your space and more like a roommate you’ve grown to tolerate despite his many faults. 

The oddest thing is opening the fridge up to more than just a six-pack, a stick of butter, and three half-empty bottles of mustard. Fresh produce and meat spill from the shelves now, leftovers packed in tupperware and neatly labelled. He eats like a king now, takeout relegated to the days when you don’t feel like cooking. On those days, Simon heads down to the chippie a few streets away and gets enough for the both of you before heading back to eat on the couch with you. 

He still gets a kick out of leaving his cigarette butts in cups strewn around the flat for you to find. 

“So what do you do anyway?” you ask out of the blue.

“What’s it matter?” Simon grunts from beside you. He has to slow his usual gait to keep pace with you—which is irritating as all fuck—but you didn’t leave him much choice when you insisted on going to the store well after dark.

“I’m just making conversation. You always get so squirrely when I ask—what are you, some kind of secret agent?” 

He’d roll his eyes if he had any less self-control.

“No way. No way. You are?” you gasp, suddenly glued to his side, hands scrambling for purchase on his bicep and shoulder. 

Simon stares down at your hands clutching his arm, unconsciously tucking his bicep between your tits. “Best to not ask questions, bird.”

You pout. He ignores the impulse to lean down and sink his canines into that plump bottom lip.

His nose itches because the world is changing. 

He used to catalogue his time off base in much the same way. Wake up, workout, tinker with the junk pilfered from estate sales and scrap yards he’s frequented over the years, then head to the pub for a drink. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

That’s changed since you came into his life. Aside from when you’re out working, you unbalance his schedule. Upset his routines. The structure propping up his entire existence gets taken down in an instant when you open your mouth and ask him to the market with you, giving him no choice but to slam the door shut behind him and drive you there.

Each day comes with its new flavour, a new bite to it. 

“You’re not eating takeout again?” you ask him, aghast when you come home from work to find takeout containers all over the coffee table

“Always a fuckin’ lecture with you, huh?” Simon grumbles into his curry. Shovels another forkful into his mouth. 

Just as he expected though, you don’t let it go. He was a fool to think you would. It’s not so bad at first when all you do is cook for him—with the life he’s lived, he’s never been one to turn down a home cooked meal, so he accepts the proffered food happily—but it’s another thing entirely when you rope him into it.

He’s already pissed off when you wrangle him into the kitchen under the guise of needing his help—absurd after your subterfuge from the day before, his expectation being that you were happy to do all the cooking yourself, not force him to debase himself by chopping up all the vegetables and meat while being ordered around like a line cook. 

What really ticks him off though is that—

he grumbles to himself as he chops the mushrooms into thin slices

—you keep getting away with it.

The worst is when you catch the tremor in his hand at the breakfast table, quick eyes picking up on the subtle quiver instantly.

“Something wrong with your wrist?” you ask. Always prying into his business. 

Simon closes his hand into a fist. “It’s nothing.”

You frown. “Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.”

“Well, it is.”

“Can you relax your grip? I just want to see that again.”

How he lets you talk him into massaging his wrist is beyond him. Then you press your thumbs into the meat of his palm and rub in smooth, circular motions, and his brain goes offline for half a second. The relief hits him like a cudgel to the head; knocks him upside. 

“Jesus fuck, bird,” Simon groans. His knee bangs against the leg of the table. 

“Feels a bit better, huh?” you ask, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a crooked, teasing smile.

And fuck if it doesn’t feel a thousand times better by the time you’re done. He snaps when your thumbs dig in too deep at his wrist and pain radiates up his arm, but all you do is laugh it off, smiling to yourself when you press down on a tender point on his wrist and his jaw goes slack.

Sometimes, he wishes he could study you like a bug. Pin your arms and legs down to get a closer look. Kneel over you and pin your shins down with his to keep you from squirming away, then tuck his fingers into the inside of your cheeks to pull them open. 

But he keeps his hands to himself. Just barely. 

He doesn’t stay long this time, called back from his katabasis before the week’s even up, Price’s voice urgent over the phone. His duffel bag is packed before the call is even over, boots laced up and mask folded neatly in his pocket for when he leaves the city limits. 

“You’re leaving?” you ask when you notice, and if Simon were less of a realist, he might think you sounded upset. 

“Need me to take out the trash?” he asks, his answer implicit. Yes, he’s leaving. Even if it weren’t for his job, he’s not the staying type; those kinds of decisions are out of his hands anyway, and even if it were up to him, he’d be long gone by now. Adrift; across the pond or somewhere down in the Balkans, far enough away that you couldn’t find him even if you wanted to. 

That’s what he tells himself. Whether he believes it anymore is another question.

You’re quiet for a second. “Sure. Thank you.”

Simon nods. Nothing more to say. The ache in his gut could be anything else. 

He lifts a hand on his way out, ruffles your hair once before he’s gone.

Rain soaks him down to his britches but still he stands in it without complaint, watching some of the privates unload a delivery truck parked outside of the commissary. Even the mundane parts of his job are his to attend to and he does so with little complaint.

When they finish around eighteen-hundred hours, he signs out for the day and heads to Price’s office for a drink. It’s so routine it’s practically part of his DNA. 

Price already has both glasses poured when Ghost arrives, two fingers each, and it goes down smooth when he rolls the mask up over his nose to take a sip. 

“Got out the pricey stuff just for me?” Ghost asks. He can tell by the taste and from the bottle sitting on the shelf behind Price, label facing outward. 

“What else am I saving it for?” Price asks rhetorically. “I’m not letting the good stuff go to waste.”

Ghost hums. It’s still raining buckets outside. He watches as it hits the windowpane behind Price’s desk, almost transfixed.

“Got time for a drink before you’re out on Friday?” 

He shakes his head. “No time. Gotta be out by six.”

“Six?” Price repeats, a mite surprised. “Why? Something waiting for you back home?”

Ghost doesn’t answer. 

Price lifts an eyebrow. “Well, spit it out.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to tell.”

“So there’s no one back in Manchester?”

“Didn’t say that.”

Price’s lips twitch into a grin under his mustache, eyes faintly amused. “Heard.”

Truth be told, he has started to think of you as someone waiting back home. Maybe not for him, but waiting all the same. Why else would you be back in his flat in Manchester in his bed if not to wait for him to come back?

It almost makes him itchy to leave. He can tamp down the urge when the situation calls for it, but it sits right under his skin most days. If he thinks about it for too long, his focus goes razor sharp and the edges of his vision go blurry. 

In the present moment, he brings the glass to his lips and tips his head back, letting it pour down his throat. 

He has some nascent idea of where this is going.

As always, you’re curled up on the couch watching TV when he walks through the front door, on the verge of sleep. When your eyes land on him, you blink away the sleep and smile so brightly that his chest aches. “Simon!”

In nearly forty years, no one has ever said his name like that. Brimming with brightness and warmth. Like for once someone has longed for him in his absence. 

All he can do is stare at you for a time. It should make his skin crawl, and it does, to an extent. He should be out the door already—lease broken, all his shit in the back of his truck, ties cut, and so many kilometers between you and him that he has no choice but to forget your face. 

Instead, he kicks the door shut behind him and ruffles your hair when he passes on his way to the bathroom to piss and scrub a towel over his face. 

It must be a form of self-punishment. That’s the only explanation for why he comes back every single time when he has more than enough money to fuck off down south for a week instead—he could be spending his leave in Costa Brava or sipping rakija in Kotor, but he chooses to come back to this hovel with its bleak weather and seedy underbelly every single time. What other urge would drive him to abuse himself like this other than masochism? 

Any attempt to answer that is swiftly dismissed. 

One day. One day is all he manages after promising to keep himself in check this time around. He manages to get through that first day largely because of the physical distance he puts between the two of you, playing chess with a couple old men in the park, rock doves pecking at the birdseed scattered under the wrought iron tables and benches. 

His restraint breaks when he catches you dozing off in front of the television, socked feet tucked under your thighs and head balanced precariously on your fist, elbow resting on the arm of the couch. 

He sits down beside you and his lip twitches when your head bobs, slumber briefly breached when the cushion under you dips with his weight. 

“C’mere, girl,” Simon grunts, pulling you onto his lap. 

You go somewhat willingly, only putting up a little bit of a fuss. Grumbling to keep up appearances. But that melts away the second he tucks your head into the crook of his neck, body going lax and fingers burrowing into the fabric of his shirt at his belly, gathering it together in your fist. 

Christ, Simon thinks, dropping his head back on the couch. What am I doing?

Even he doesn’t know these days, but his chest aches in a way it never has before. He makes a mental note to see a doctor when he’s back on base. 

His back aches too, but you pick up on that rather quickly, hounding him when you recognize the stiffness in his back for what it is. It takes you days to wear him down enough to agree to a massage, but eventually you do. He regrets it the second the words leave his mouth, leery at the thought of putting himself in such a vulnerable position.  

You lock him out of the bedroom while you set up your table and do all the little things that you need to do in order to set the mood. His nose wrinkles when the smell of incense hits him. 

“You can strip down to your comfort level,” you explain after letting him back into the room, patting the bed as if he doesn’t know where to lie down. “Then get under the blanket and let me know when you’re ready.”

He cocks a brow. “You trying to get me naked, bird?”

“Simon,” you sigh, a touch exasperated, hands on your hips to emphasize your weariness. 

His belt clinks as he unlatches it. “Don’t worry, birdie, just gimme a second to get these off.”

A frustrated growl and then the door slams shut behind you when you bolt out of the room. 

He spares you the indignity of having to repeat yourself, sliding under the towel and barking at you to come back in when he’s stripped bare and covered. You slip back in quietly and flit over to the dresser to press play on your music.

The first touch of your hands against his bare back almost makes him flinch. All his regret comes rushing back and he very nearly calls it off, and then you press the heels of your palms into the meat of his shoulders and the bottom falls out from under him. Then you drag them down the length of his back and he very nearly bites his tongue clean off. 

Simon doesn’t bother muffling his noises when you dig your hands into his back to work out the plethora of knots, huffing and groaning like he’s balls deep. When you get to his shoulders though, he has to fight to stay put, 

“Oh, your back is really messed up,” you note, a bit breathlessly. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your words, too intent on not vocalizing his pain. Not even a grunt passes his lips. 

You work years of hard labour and soreness out of his muscles, leaving behind a new man. The oil coating your palms makes your hands glide across his back. 

He must fall asleep at some point because he wakes to the sound of television in the other room. Groggy at first, cotton mouthed and sleep drunk, and when Simon stumbles into the living room, you’re sitting on the couch with your knees drawn into your chest. 

“Oh hi,” you say when you notice him standing there. “Sleep well?” 

Speech still beyond him, all he can do is nod and plant himself on the couch beside you. Shirtless still. Simon only notices it himself when he tips his head to look over at you and finds that you won’t meet his eyes, gaze steadfast on the TV. 

“Shoulda ‘ad you do that when you moved in,” he says. 

“I could give you another one before you leave,” you reply, still not looking over at him. He bets that if he brushed his knuckles over your cheeks, they’d be hot to the touch. “Just tell me when.”

Maybe he will. What use is there in depriving himself of life’s little pleasures when his soul bears all of life’s bruises? 

He reaches over to pinch your cheek, grinning when you yowl. Just as warm as he thought.

One thing Simon doesn’t take for granted anymore are his scarce moments of privacy. No stranger to a little exhibitionism (barracks walls and tent flaps hardly muffle sound, and he’s learned over the years that men will tolerate anything if it means they can rub one out in peace), he still appreciates the time he gets to himself to take care of things. 

He’s only just finished tugging one out, his jeans buttoned back up and his hand still wet with his spend, when you walk in the front door.

You start up the second the door slams shut behind you, steam practically billowing out of your ears. “Well, thanks a lot—one of my regulars just gave me shit because she said I smelt like an ashtray and she couldn’t ‘properly relax’ for the whole hour—” 

Afterglow proper scotched, Simon sits there and lets you cuss him out until the pounding behind his eyebrow becomes unbearable. 

You go quiet when he rises to his feet, unused to him actually reacting to your whinging. Sometimes you don’t realize how accustomed to him you’ve become—how ingrained he’s become in your everyday life. What continues to elude you for no good reason is that you live with a stranger, and a strange man at that. It would piss him off if it were anyone other than him. 

Practically chest to chest now, you nearly go cross eyed staring up at him. Jaw unhinged and mouth dangling loose, just the slightest gap between your lips like you forgot to close them. He lets you size him up for a second before lifting his hand to your mouth and slowly but firmly shoving his cum-covered fingers into your mouth.

Dumbstruck, all you can do is stare up at him with his cum-slicked fingers in your mouth, holding them there for a few more seconds and whimpering when he drags them out and then feeds them slowly back in. You even go a little glassy-eyed.

When he finally pulls his fingers out and lets his arm drop to his side, you sway on your feet a little, at a loss for words. There’s a creamy sheen on your bottom lip that disappears when you suck it into your mouth on instinct, eyes going wide when you recognize the taste on your tongue. 

“Thanks for cleaning that up, birdie.” And then he reaches down to zip his fly up, smug when your eyes flit down to his crotch. 

The stakes are different now than what they were all those months ago. It can’t be a carefree cohabitation when he’s playing for keeps. Whatever that means. 

But his time is cut short again, the world catching up to him and yanking him back. And when Simon goes this time, he can’t help but drag his feet on his way out.

You’re looking good. A comment made in passing, Price’s face barely twitching through it, but Ghost catches it and he lets it sit for a moment before responding.

“Yeah?” he grunts, looking away. The recruits round the part of the track closest to where they stand, panting through their seventh lap. 

“Put on a bit of weight since you left,” Price notes. 

“Calling me fat, sir?”

He rolls his eyes, huffing out an exasperated breath. “Give it a rest, you fuckin’ muppet. I said you look good.”

Price isn’t wrong though. He both looks and feels different. With increasing regularity, he watches the clock and counts the days down until he’s released from his duties again. His want has him circling like a bird of prey. 

All his life, he’s had to live in the moment, concerned only with the immediate, tangible present because that’s all that life let him have. And though it’s been decades since he’s needed to be in survival mode, those instincts have never quite left him. 

The shock to his system has left him forward-thinking for once. A girl in his house and food in his fridge; his body feeling better than it has in years—he’s still lucky if he gets more than five uninterrupted hours of sleep, but his expectations are different when he’s not at home. Even the concept of home is foreign, like a language he’s just starting to learn. 

The future isn’t some nebulous concept out of his reach but a real place that he gets to walk into. 

Desire tips him like a scale. There may not be any coming back from this.

Love shows him no mercy, so he doesn’t show you any either. 

Months pass before Simon’s leave comes around again, and when it finally does, he’s already packed and signed out before his last day on base is even up. He says his goodbyes to Price on his way out and the other man visibly suppresses a smile, eyeing the bag clutched tight in his hand. 

“Give her my best,” is all he says before getting back to the paperwork in front of him. Simon leaves without another word. 

Then the long drive back. A skein of birds in flight follow him for part of the journey. A train running parallel to the throughway follows him for the rest. Tree boughs bend under the weight of the last snowfall.

Then he blinks and when his eyes open, he’s home.

You’re still sitting on that blasted couch when Simon opens the front door, pretty as a peach in August, and his name rings like a bell off your tongue when you say it, summoning him to you. It’s not his fault that his urges prevail, that he has no choice but to throw his bag down onto the carpeted floor and stomp over to you, lifting you up by the collar of your housecoat and dragging you into a scorching hot kiss. 

“Mmf,” you squeak against his lips, eyes flying open. 

It’s messy and frenzied, spit dripping down your chin and his tongue halfway down your throat. No finesse or skill to speak of, only an incessant buzzing at the back of his head that only quiets when you give a helpless little moan, an instant balm to his suffering. 

Simon pulls back for a moment to let you breathe. “That’s my welcome ‘ome?” he murmurs. His lips brush against yours when he speaks. 

“W-welcome home?” you repeat, flustered, your lip catching against his. He sucks it between his when it does, cock throbbing in his pants when you gasp, hot breath billowing into his mouth and making his head spin. 

This is nothing like being high on pain meds or three sheets to the win. It pulses through him and makes his cock chub up, forcing him to shove a hand down between his legs to readjust himself. That gets you good when you notice. 

He kisses hungry and mean, ever greedy for your mouth, fitting his hand over the back of your head and angling you how he likes. Holding the delicate cradle of your skull in his palm and knowing that he could crack it if he squeezed his fingers hard enough. The thought sends a rush right through him, his violent underbelly scratched in just the right way. 

“W-where’s this coming from?” you gasp when Simon pulls back. You look thoroughly flustered, but he ignores you to hook a finger in your mouth and wrench it open. 

“Open,” he grunts, giving your inner cheek a sharp tug. 

You go cross-eyed when he spits in your mouth, the glob of spit landing right on your tongue, and your affronted little gasp hits him like an arrow shot straight through his heart. He’s considerate enough to seal it in with a kiss, making sure not to let you waste a drop. Tongue pushing in right after to lick it up, growling at you to suck it when you only nervously kiss back.

His patience isn’t infinite though and kissing barely wets his appetite. It’s not enough to plumb the depths of his hunger when there’s something uglier down there waiting with its jaws wide open.

He twists you around and bends you over the back of the couch, rucking your housecoat up to your waist. Your knickers get ripped clean off, tearing at the seams, and your ensuing shriek nourishes the hunger simmering low in his belly. Appetite never satiated, belly never full. 

He likes that you didn’t expect him back so soon. Fuzzy, unshaved legs and holey socks; pimple patches on your face and nothing under your robe. The lazy domesticity appeals to him in a way he never would’ve expected. 

Then his fingers split the seam of your pussy and the runoff of his appreciation cascades down the slopes of his shoulders and his back. Slick drips from your winking hole, gathering together into a tight bulb before a single drop drips onto the couch beneath you. 

“Fuck—now there’s somethin’ to come ‘ome to,” Simon grunts, and then drags his tongue between your dew-slicked lips.

His enjoyment was a foregone conclusion when he imagined this back in his quarters in the barracks, cock in hand, but the reality of having his mouth on your pussy exceeds his expectations a thousandfold. It’s all soft, pillowy skin and sweet nectar. He gorges himself on it, an almost pathological need to be tongue-deep in your cunt.  

“Wet little gash just sucks ‘em right in…” he murmurs, plunging two fingers into your hole slowly. The soft flesh of your hole bulges around his fingers when they sink in all the way to the knuckle. 

“Fuck—don’t call it that,” you bleat, so pathetic that he’s smitten. 

“Shouldn’ta wagged it at me if ya didn’t want me to touch it,” Simon teases, then crooks his fingers just so and your leg spasms. 

He keeps you stuffed full until your legs shake, on the verge of coming, and then he rips them out. 

You practically scream in frustration, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Somethin’ wrong, birdie?” He smirks when you arch your back, pushing your ass back in his face. 

“I want to come, Simon,” you whine, wagging your ass in his face again. Just his luck that a little slut like you dropped into his life.

“Alright,” he sighs, mock aggrieved. “Lemme see if I can ‘elp with that.”

Ungrateful little thing, he thinks when he turns you over onto your back and heaves you up into the air. 

“Simon—”  you keen his name when he has you pinned up against the wall, his arms scooped under your thighs to hold you in place. 

He plunges into that warm little honeypot between your legs in slow, measured strokes at first, savouring each punctured whimper and hiccup that drops from your lips. Each flex of his hips brings him that much closer to heaven and that much closer to hell.

“Didn’t think you could just barge in without consequences, did ya?” Simon asks rhetorically, voice gone brassy and tiger-stripped, thick in his chest. “Been sleeping in my bed for nearly a year, ‘aven’t ya? Ain’t I owed this?”

He means it too. 

“You’re—so full of it,” you retort, hiccuping through your words.  

Your arms hang limp around his neck, fingers twined at his nape and nails scratching at his hairline. The low ache in his back is barely a deterrent—he’d hold you up all night if it took that long to make you come. A distant voice at the back of his head reminds him that he’ll suffer for it in the morning, but he shakes that thought away. 

He chases the beads of sweat snaking down your chest and tits with his tongue, straightening back up only when that nearly makes you lose your grip around his neck and topple out of his arms. 

“Hey,” you pout when Simon chuckles, digging your nails into his back in retribution for laughing at you. It has the opposite effect though, the pain stoking his pleasure and sending a shiver down his back, his next thrust so rough that you bounce in his arms.

Your skin smells like sweat and musk this close, so heady that his head spins. It registers dimly at the back of his mind that he’s still dressed while you’re fully nude, housecoat and knickers in a pile on the floor in front of the couch, but he can’t pull away now, not with the need to come pressing into him on all sides, dick hard enough to split diamonds. 

He stares down between your legs where his cock splits you again and again, a ring of white cream at the base. He could paint that little snatch white with his cum or stuff it deep inside, both options appealing to his baser instincts. It’ll be a coin flip in the end.

When the ache in his back grows too significant to ignore, he lifts you up off the wall and drops you down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt before carrying you to the open door to the bedroom. 

“Sorry, pet,” Simon murmurs when he feels you clench around the thickest part of his cock, whispering a little oh fuck to yourself under your breath. He kicks the door shut behind him with his heel. “Back’s shit. Mind taking over for me?” 

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he sits down on the end. You blink up at him. “You want me on top?” 

He nods and hums his assent, digging his fingers into the muscle and flesh of your ass and kneading. “Yeah, bird. Still wanna see all the pretty bits though.”

The pretty bits being the globes of your ass facing him while you ride his dick, his hands pulling apart your cheeks to watch you take it inch by inch, thighs quivering with the strain.  

Your thighs are stretched out on either side of him, pretty calves resting perpendicular to his chest and toes curled into the mattress. He eyes those with some interest before your pussy distracts him again. There’s no angle that isn’t nice to look at, but this has got to be his favourite so far, tight bud between your cheeks clenching every time you drop down onto his dick. It’s easy to ignore the ache in his shoulder with a view this nice. 

“Fuck, birdie,” Simon murmurs, dragging his hand over your ass and then swatting it, grunting when that makes you clench up around him, inner walls squeezing his length and nearly milking him dry. “Coulda been doing this the whole time.”

You laugh a bit breathlessly. “No—you were way too annoying.”

Smack. You yelp when he backhands your ass and your shoulders go stiff, spine a taut line with your impending orgasm. Simon can feel it like a knot in his throat, pussy so hot that it nearly burns him alive. 

“Shit,” you gasp, hands on his legs the only thing keeping you upright. You nearly rip out the hair on his thighs when you curl them into fists.

His hands glide up and down your sides, touching wherever he wants. It’s his God given right after housing you for so long, and though Simon clings belligerently to that belief, like the foundation of his existence is built on quid pro quo, on doing nothing for others unless there’s something in it for him, there’s something else that burrows underneath that maxim. Something far truer and more terrifying, and if he were to look it dead on, it would bring him to his knees. 

Simon grunts, lungs pummelled when you squeeze around his length, tight as a vice.

Good thing you’ve got him on his back instead.

In the end, it’s not up to him whether he comes in you or not. When his cockhead bumps against your cervix and he feels teardrops land on his thighs, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs, the spigot loosens and his stomach aches with how hard he comes. His heels dig into the mattress, hips lifting up, trying to cram more and more of his cock into your cunt, tendons straining against his neck. 

“Take it, bird,” Simon snarls, teeth grinding together, his voice sounding wrecked even to him. “Take it nice ‘n deep, fuck—wanna see it leak from your hole when I pull ya off—”

Your nails sink into his thighs, cutting him off. 

He does too, when you flop down beside him onto the bed and he tucks you under his arm, spreading your legs so he can push his cum back into your cunt, fingers pearly white with your mixed juices. 

“Oh God,” you whisper, squeezing your thighs together around his hand until he’s forced to wrench them open again, hovering over you this time, the cudgel dangling between his legs already thickening up again. 

And that’s how he spends his week, in a suspended state of euphoria, no sense of time passing. It doesn’t matter where it goes as long as you crawl into bed with him at the end of the day, eyes sparkling with delight. 

The leaving is tougher than it’s ever been, claws scoring right through his chest when Simon tips your chin up and leans down to slot his lips over yours. He’s not made for this sentimental bullshit, but it finds him either way. 

His chest burns on the drive back to base, acid reflux a bitch as always. 

The next time his landlord calls, he comes bearing good news.

“I’ll cut you a deal on the first month to make up for the…mix up,” he starts begrudgingly. “But don’t worry—the girl’ll be out of your hair by the end of the month. Gonna tell her today that I can’t renew her lease.”

Simon hangs up without saying a word, swathed in anger. Nearly crushes the phone in his grip when his landlord calls back a second later. He ignores that call too.

If he were a different man, if this was a different world—

No one ever knows when their world is about to change until it does. 

But even if his walls have grown barbed wires in the years that he’s been alone, there’s always a way to dig out from under. 

The return home is different this time around, the wind under his sails all but lifting him into the air. 

A year to the date almost. Another month and time will wrap back around on itself, the seasons changing the same way they have for all thirty-seven years of his life. When fate lets him go this time, Simon heads over to Price’s office before taking off for the week, carving out time for one last drink before he hits the road. Over a whiskey and kretek, he tells Price his plan and only just keeps from rolling his eyes when Price barks a laugh, clapping his hands together.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Shut up.”

“It’s a big step, Simon. I’m proud of you.”

Simon rolls his eyes, pleased despite himself. “Stuff it, old man.”

And then he’s gone again, following the same winding road back, with one stop along the way this time. He stays overnight at a local inn after signing the paperwork, too exhausted to keep driving. Too much on his mind anyway. 

It means nothing to him that people do this sort of thing all the time. He has survived the locust years of his life and come out the other side. That should be enough to give himself some grace when he tosses and turns all night, back pain flaring up and immobilizing him for an hour. Only when the first rays of dawn pierce through the threadbare curtains does it finally abate, and he heads out after his morning piss, ignoring the cramp in his belly on the drive over.

You greet him at the door when you hear his car pull up, standing under the door frame while he gets out and rounds the car, bare toes curling at the cold air. And any effort to tamp it down now is in vain, his chest filling with something unspeakable and unsaid. 

“Put your shoes on,” Simon instructs, coming over just to pull you in for a kiss before nudging you back into the flat, shutting the door behind him. 

“Why?” you ask, lifting a brow. “Wanna go for coffee or something like that?”

“Something like that. Why aren’t you putting your shoes on?” 

Herded into the truck after getting dressed, you badger him with question after question the whole drive over while Simon keeps his mouth shut, focusing on the road in front of him. It’s not a long drive at least, but your incessant questions make it last an eternity. 

Until he pulls up in front of a house with a short gravel walkway and a garden in desperate need of attention, milkvetch growing near the front step. The outdoor sconces are new though, and though Simon already has a few things in mind to fix up around the house, it’s got good bones. Leagues nicer than the place you just left.

“Are we picking someone up?” you ask when he puts the car in park, confused. You stare at the door as if waiting for it to open. 

Simon doesn’t respond.

You look over at him and he takes one of your hands, holding it palm-side up and covering it with his own ugly mitt. You feel something cold drop from his hand into yours and he curls your fingers into a fist to hold it.

“No.” 

When his hand moves away, you uncurl your fingers to find a key. It means so little and so much all at once. If he could say it with words, it wouldn’t be the same so there’s no point in trying. 

“It’s ours?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

There’s a watery sheen over your eyes when you look up, and your lip wobbles. And in a way different than ever before, his chest grows tight, the ache in his heart a fresh and welcome pain.

[ridingtorohan]

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 request. the crew's reactions to walking in on reader touching themselves.

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. potential second hand embarrassment, reader is gender neutral (no genitalia specified), getting caught, masturbation, semi-public masturbation.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Masterlist ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Part Two: walking in on them

By all accounts, Curly is a respectable captain. He respects boundaries and doesn't cross the line. He's the captain, after all. Not having locks on the door is a safety issue, he knows. Just as he knows to knock. It just wasn't on his mind; he needed your help with something and you're technically available.

So he breezes right in, words on his lips and - there you are.

Holy shit, there you are. In all your lewd glory. "Oh." Then, oh. "Sorry, I'm just-" and he doesn't even finish the sentence because he backtracks and shuts the door behind him.

The thing is, that image haunts him, later. Wriggling like an infestation inside his skull. When he sees you, he acts every bit the proper superior, doesn't bat an eye. Internally, he sees flashes of skin, the way you moaned and sighed.

It leaves a lasting impression in his mind and he's so painfully aware of it. Aware of it in more ways than one because he knows nothing can come of this. It's awkward enough walking in on someone, awkward even more when everytime he knocks on your door afterwards, he's praying that you'll be nude and waiting for him.

Late at night, he remembers it, stroking himself and pressing his face into a pillow as his hips jerk, spilling himself over his fingers, wishing that it was your hands on him.

Sometimes, he wishes you'd walk in on him too.

Even Jimmy knows better than to poke through doors, especially when everybody is awake. He's never felt the need to, not with the open door policy and frankly, until this, he's only noticed you in passing.

Nimble as ever, he opens your door, irritated over something that one of the crew members had done the other day. Sometimes, he just liked to vent and rage about the injustice. You're easy to talk to, but he's never really sought you out for anything else before.

The door shuts behind him and he just stands there, previous irritation set to the backburner. Because there you are, uniform discarded and showing off your form, hand between your thighs as you nursed your arousal.

Above all else, Jimmy is a certified voyeur. He likes to watch and admire, drilling inside his head about the way your hand moves, the curve of your spine. Each individual sound. But even Jimmy has his limits.

When you're close or have already come, he slides up behind you, hot breath at your neck, thick hands skimming over your waist, to your thighs, only to settle on top of yours. "As much as I enjoy the view, pet, I'm going to take it from here." And he makes damn good no his promise.

He makes a mental note that to visit your room far more often.

Anya really just needed an answer to a quick question, relating to your latest check in to the medbay (or your duties). She knocks on the door, too softly to be heard over the sound of your activities.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to even realize what was going on. All she sees is your huddled form. First comes the concern, her hand reaching out for your shoulder, "Are you oka-"

And you let out such a noisy sigh that she freezes. She's gotten laid before and suddenly it hits her like a truck just what she walked into because she knows what those sounds mean. Furiously backpedalling, her hand raises to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Quietly, she excuses herself from your quarters, ears a little red and hands shaking.

For a long, awkward time afterward, she can't even meet your eyes, even going as far as delegating the psych eval to Curly.

If you ever get injured, she performs it as meticulously as she can, her eyes tracing over every ounce of your body, trying to forget the way you moved.

Frankly, at one point, one of you would have to address what happened. But she's more than eager to ride this bumpy path until then, even if it strains your relationship with her.

Everytime she sees you that familiar, yawning ache simmers in her gut.

As much as she tried to deny it, what she walked in on affected her.

When the tension becomes too much, she finds herself sitting on her leg, grinding herself against her calf, biting the inside of her cheek as she imagines you there.

As stupid as it is, she might have maybe done it in your presence, hands trembling as she tries to keep a conversation going, desk separating you two. Other times, when it becomes unbearable, she rubs her thighs together or slides her calves against the leg of her chair, praying to god that you don't see her. (But half of her hoping that you will.)

He's been looking for you for the better part of half an hour; usually, he finds you in obscure places or with his intern, so the last place he thought to look was in your bedroom. Really, that should have been his first guess. You two were supposed to talk about something and it's been on his mind like a nagging hornet.

Sure, walking into another's room is technically frowned upon, but with all the mishaps of Daisuke barging into people's rooms (much to the disgruntlement of, well, everyone) that for a split second he didn't even consider it.

He just opens the door and - okay, so you're doing that. No wonder you were absent, so engrossed in self pleasure that you didn't even hear him stepping in.

Swansea feels too old for this, seeing your twisted figure, your cries of pleasure. So he just turns around and shuts the door, leaving you to it.

He tucks himself back into a latest project and perusing Daisuke's homework, busying himself until you're finished and in public. Not that he planned to publicly confront you about it, but because he knew everybody needed a little time alone. As small as the Tulpar was, he knew any time and space should be well spent. Even if he silently questioned your methods.

But he does bring it up. He doesn't let it slide (not like how your hands slid between your thighs and-).

Despite whatever personality conflicts you two had, he had eyes and all working parts, thank you very much. He also had needs.

Once the original topic was out of the way, he crossed his arms, expression serious when he says, "Now, it's all my doin' for bargin' in like that, but I saw something of you that I shouldn't have." He'd elaborate if he had to, "If alone time is what you're after, we've got socks for that. Toss it on your door handle and be done with it; I ain't gonna let nobody disturb ya during it."

As awkward as that conversation was, he's handled it before. He has grown kids, after all. But you're not his kid, and you're certainly grown - he's seen that. Noticed it off-hand a few times before too.

He sighs, leaning back, letting you decide when he adds, "But if release is what you're after, I know a thing or two, and I can help you with that."

All but acting like a lost puppy, Daisuke often turned to you for help in locating his missing items. Batteries, dust pan, his gameboy cartridge. (Swansea was so mad the last time he lost the screwdriver and thanked you profusely with your help locating it.) So popping in for a quick minute into your bedroom to ask for your help in locating his soap was a mindless task.

He pops in, door banging, energetic words on his lips. His brain all but sputters when your eyes connect, nude form on the bed, sprawled out, light sheen of sweat on your body, looking like a tribute straight from the gods.

Despite your hasty attempt to cover and a spew of apologies from Daisuke's lips, he can't take his eyes off you. It's like he can't even blink, so absorbed in your image that half of what he's saying doesn't make sense.

You'd have to forcibly remove him because he is rooted to his spot, unable to vacate of his own free will. He'll be banging on your door, pleading to be let back in, to talk it over. He's not sure what he wants to say - more apologies? Explain why he's there? He wants to offer help so badly.

If he's not pushed out at all, his brain ceases to function. Despite being a handsome lad, and being twenty, he's hardly been with anyone. Sure, he knows exactly what you're up to - he's done it himself plenty of times-- but all those words die in his mouth.

"Soap, I swear I'm just looking for soap," he explains, trying to rush into an explanation, the only coherent thing he can say.

He'll eventually manage to sputter, "I was going to go shower, but nowIwannaknowifyouwanttojoinme" is strewn in with "ohmygodpleaseletmehelpyou".

He's all jittery, achingly hard in his pants, wanting to touch and hear you make those sounds again. Daisuke feels like he'll go insane if he doesn't. Hands fidgeting, his fingers curl in, unconsciously taking a few steps in. He'll finally manage a coherent, "Please let me stay."

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond

A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch

“The Prince has asked for you.”

She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.

Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 

“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 

Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.

When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.

Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.

"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."

Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.

“Undress.”

The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.

Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.

She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.

Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.

As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.

His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.

Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.

Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.

Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"

"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."

Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.

With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 

She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.

They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.

She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.

She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.

"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.

She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"

Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."

There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.

Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."

She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.

He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"

Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."

Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 

"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[jo-com]

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ ➛ Shots

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: You guys are used to having people send out free drinks because they fancy Oscar, but when it was your turn he did not like it one bit. (Inspired by the oneshot I’ve read, I forgot who the author was sorry😭)

Genre: Fluff

Note: nothing, just look out for grammatical errors and this is not proofread

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

───── ─ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ─ ─────

The sun radiated brightly emitting a soft glow that shined over the flesh of your skin— it was creating a rather medium type of shade the longer it sets on your body.

You don’t mind it though, as long as you were relaxed and rested in the embrace of you boyfriend; everything was just okay.

You and Oscar, along with his fellow drivers decided to have a day off at the beach. It was trip that has been long overdue, due to their busy schedules the trip was postponed one to many times.

So when they had their day off, the lot of them took advantage of it and agreed to pay the beach a visit— enjoying the calming atmosphere that surrounds the beach and having to spend time with their significant others. The whole afternoon was nothing but perfect.

After playing volleyball, you guys decided to just chill near the bar lounge and gossip about anything that comes to mind.

You and Oscar sat at the middle in between Carlos and Lando. As they talk more and more, your eyes started to drift off; the sound of their voices started to mix the other background clamoring.

Your eyes were closed but was still tentative— you could still feel the brush of air that lightly ran over your skin along with Oscar’s fingers that circulates at the curve of your back.

With a low hum, you acknowledged his gesture and was pleased to let him know that you appreciate it.

As time passes by, they were all still happily chatting; laughing at each other’s joke and a bit of yelling but playful one’s of course. Everything seemed to be going so great.

Well not until one of the staffs walked towards their way, holding a tray that consists of one drink.

The whole group looked curiously as the man settled the drink in your table. The loudness of their voices suddenly died down—all eyes looking intently at the man whose just doing his job.

With the sudden quietness, curiously you fluttered your eyes open. Not being able used to the sound of silence, you propped your body up and was now leaning your whole body at Oscar’s chest.

Your eye’s widened as all attention was onto you— you felt the intense feeling of being stared at back of your head.

“Good day ma’am, that gentleman over there wanted to give you this” he spoke, his hand then went to his vest and pulled out a piece of paper.

The waiter handed you the note and left, right after you took the piece of paper.

“What does it say?” Max asked, just as curious as the others.

“I’d like to know as well” oscar spoke, his tone laced with both curiosity and jealousy.

“Well…” you trailed off and then proceeds to open the folded paper.

‘Hey hot stuff, can i have your number??’

You giggled at the childish note, making your friends cock their head to the side, anticipation rushed over them as they try to read the expression off your face.

Meanwhile Oscar was not having it, he caught a glimpse of the note and saw what was written over it. Oh he was not happy at all.

“It’s nothing, just some guy asking for my number, it’s stupid really” you spoke, brushing off the note like it was nothing, i mean it was nothing well for you it was.

For Oscar, it was like all hell broke loose, did that guy not notice Oscar or something?

All the others just laughed; you along with them. It was just a harmless attempt to get to you, it’s not that big of a deal. Oscar gets those every-time and it’s fine cause you know he wouldn’t act on it or anything.

You we’re about to reach for the drink when you felt Oscar’s hand grabbing it first. You turned to his direction and raised your brows at his action.

“Oooh someone’s jealous~” Lando teased, repeating it two more times before laughing out loud. The others heard the commotion that lando started and played along with his jokes.

Oscar rolled his eyes, completely denying his emotion. “I am not jealous, i just think it’s stupid,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool— even though you could tell his true feeling just by looking at his face.

“Yeah right” Carlos replied, earning a fit of giggle from around the group.

“You’re not actually jealous? Are you baby?” You spoke teasingly, chuckling a little at your own words.

“Like i said, i am not” he said in a monotone voice; he was acting childish it was adorable. In your eyes it was— it wasn’t in his.

You then slowly shifted your body to face his and snaked your arms that rested on his shoulder blades. “Don’t take it at heart baby, you know I won’t actually give him my number right?” You whispered, loud enough for him to only hear.

“I know…” he sighed, his arm settled in the plush of your thighs; squeezing the soft surface to find comfort.

“I just don’t like it that i was here and he still asked you, am I invisible or something?” He added. His head hung low to avoid your stare.

A soft giggle left your lips as you grazed your finger over his chin and slowly lift it up, so you could be eye to eye. “Now you know what i feel when someone does that to you, but baby rest assured that i am yours and only yours.”

Oscar slowly smiled and hugged your body close to his,”i love you” he muttered— the hug getting tighter to which you of course accepted happily.

“I love you too, my love” you smiled and pecked his lips; it was short but meaningful kiss of assurance.

The whole day then went fine, sure they were teasing him non stop but it doesn’t affect him that much like earlier because you were there to assure him every-time.

…

Creds to the real owners ideas, this is just my version of it! Hope you like it guys sorry for not posting to much I’ve been in a writers block😭😭

[itsvenera]

summary: You and Sasuke have been caught in a toxic cycle of love and hate for as long as you can remember. Yet when you try to break free, he finds himself unable to let you go. (14k words)

warning(s): 18+ content (minors DO NOT INTERACT!), toxic! fem reader, toxic!Sasuke (a bit ooc as well?), mentions of cheating, love-hate relationship, p in v, oral (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

author's note: that was supposed to be a a short nsfw fic, yet somehow it became... this. Anyway, I am actually really proud of this one, so I really hope you enjoy! Shoutout to the anon who had send me their thoughts on toxic reader x toxic character , your message was main inspo for this one <3

Sasuke Uchiha has made many mistakes in his life. Fact.

The biggest one, however, had to be you.

From the moment he met you during one of his travels after the war, he could feel it deep inside his chest - a growing feeling of irritation, one that he has not felt since his early genin days. He has seen women like you before - ones that rely heavily on their beauty to get what they want. One coy smile or a seductive glance was enough to tilt the odds in your favour in every situation and - God! - did Sasuke hate it. How was it fair that someone like you could always achieve anything they put their mind to with such an ease, while others had to spend years in hard work while patiently waiting for their moment to shine?

But it wasn't just your looks that captivated people. Your wit, sharper and faster than his sword, had to be your biggest weapon - and you wielded it masterfully, he had to admit. You spared no man or a woman, as you let charming lies and sugarcoated compliments tease the egos of those around you, quickly turning them in nothing more than powerless puppets in your hands.

What angered him the most, however, is how aware you were of your power. You used it unapologetically, without even a single ounce of guilt or shame, as if it was your birthright to make everyone else around you bow to your will. So when he found himself in your bed just a few days after your first meeting, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust while his fingers squeezed your throat so hard, you could swear you were seeing stars, he convinced himself that you deserve no mercy.

No, far from it!

Women like you deserved to be reminded of their place. And Sasuke was determined to be the one to do it.

He kept reminding you over and over again for the short period he was visiting your village - in your bedroom; in the shower; on the table of the Council of your village; on the training grounds under the moonlight; in the secluded corners of the leader's (who was also your pathetic lover) building where no one dared to wander. He had made it his mission you understood - no matter how cunning your schemes were, you would never have the upper hand over him.

Being a good and changed man now, Sasuke knew he couldn't just let you drift through life relying on lies and using people. So he did what he thought was the best way to deal with a menace like you...

he married you.

It his mind, it was perfectly logical solution. If you were going to wreak havoc across the nations, Sasuke figured he might as well be the one to keep you in check. He had witnessed first-hand how many fools have fallen to your sweet deceptions and he knew that if there was one man who can handle you, it was him.

In addition, you were also the perfect tool to get his many 'fangirls' and Naruto off his back. He knew that as the last surviving member of his clan there was certain pressure for him to settle down, but he didn't expect that everyone would ‘demand’ it from him so soon after the war. He still had to atone to his sins, piece together the shattered fragments of his identity and find his place in this broken world. A relationship - let alone a wife and kids - was the last thing on his mind.

Yet it seemed that everywhere he went, the whispers of the 'last eligible Uchiha bachelor' were faster - by the time he entered a village, he was eagerly welcomed by elders who would parade young women before him, as if they were animals for sale.

It was sickening, really. And no matter how bluntly he expressed he is not interested, the people just didn't take the hint.

So if he could kill two rabbits with only one shot, then…

"We are getting married," he informed you on his last night at your village, while getting dressed. It was not a proposal, or even a question - just a simple, straightforward declaration.

He didn't even spare a glance in your direction as he adjusted his clothes, almost as if he didn't pump you full of his seed multiple times through the night. Unlike any other man you've met (and fucked) before, he was always eager to leave after you two were done. He never held you close or whispered sweet nothings into your ear - no, he hated you too much to put all that effort for a single fuck.

"I don't usually go for men with missing limbs," you snickered with that signature infuriating smirk on your face that drove Sasuke wild, "But I guess the good sex and your last name are worth for me to make an exception."

Sasuke only grunted in response, before leaving you alone in your bedroom. How did you manage to get under his skin so effortlessly, he'd never understand.

He was no fool, he knew that if it was any other man - even that short, fat loser who was your village leader (and lover) - you would've turned him down straight away. But he had something he knew you wanted badly and that was the name Uchiha. You were a smart woman and had calculated all the privileges - the power, the influence, the fame - that a union like that could give you. He knew you were not really interested in him, at least not in the way other women were.

You never fawned over him or actively sought his attention. Instead you were treating him with a level of indifference, gracing him your full attentiveness only when you were intimate. And even then you liked to show your bratty side, refusing to submit and leaving him with no other option than manhandling you till you admit surrender. But you never made it easy, that's for sure.

When he brought you back to Konoha, officially as his wife, everyone thought he had lost the last bit of sanity in his head for good.

"This has to be joke..." Sakura muttered as she watched you walk next to Sasuke into the Uchiha compound, the clan symbol proudly decorating the back of your kimono. She didn't want to sound jealous or envious, but you just looked so... not his type. She had always envisioned him with a strong woman - ninja, for sure - who could balance his cold and distant nature by providing him with all the love and warmth he has been deprived for all these years.

But you? You looked nothing like that. Sure, you were pretty, but you were a civilian who couldn't relate to the shinobi's lifestyle. How Sasuke chose you, a foreigner nonetheless, from all of the available women in Konoha was beyond her comprehension.

"I don't think it is, Sakura-chan," Naruto replied from his spot next to her, his eyes unable to move away from the way you swayed your hips while walking next to his best friend. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't look at someone else's woman like that, but how could he control himself? He knew he was too weak to resist you the moment Sasuke introduced you to him and Sakura, and your eyes lingered just a second longer on his, before you turned away, a small smirk grazing your lips.

To say that you had quickly became the favourite woman of every person in the village would be an understatement. All of the men, even geniuses like Neji and Shikamaru, seemed to fall under your spell without much effort. Your confidence, combined with your sharp mind and beauty, seemed to draw in everyone like flies to honey much to Sasuke's dismay. Of course, he expected from you to continue to try playing your little games even after bringing you back to the Leaf, but he thought better of his old teammates.

And it wasn't just the men in the village, either. Even the reluctant women who initially questioned your motivations, like Sakura and Ino, soon found themselves drawn to your company, seduced by the idea of not having to shy away from their femininity around you. All their life they have been taught that they have to train and work hard to be considered as something even close to a man's equal - yet, here you were, without any skills or fighting abilities, managing to wrap every single man around your finger and make them inferior to yourself. You were strong in a way that they hadn't considered before - through your confidence, charm, and most importantly, intelligence.

Sasuke was feeling torn by the whole thing. On one hand, he felt like he had failed in his goal to tame you and keep you in control. A year after he made you his wife, he found himself not only unsuccessful, but completely outsmarted and outplayed by you.

On the other hand, for less than half a decade, you managed to achieve what he thought he may not achieve in his whole lifetime. Not only you had carried his twin boys - a result of him bullying all his frustration and annoyance he held toward you into your tight little pussy every chance he got - but you somehow managed to restore the reputation of the Uchiha clan all by yourself. What was once a name connected only to criminals and bloodshed, was now associated with respect, political influence, and a sense of honor. You had restored the pride that Sasuke thought he never may regain again, let alone be given by someone like you.

When you asked him for a divorce one peaceful night during dinner, he thought he has heard you wrong. His mismatched eyes narrowed, as he studied your calm expression. After six years of using his name to climb to the village's higher circles and giving him sons to continue the legacy of the Uchiha clan, you suddenly wanted to leave?

"I think we had this dance for long enough, don't you, husband?"

Your marriage was far from perfect or even socially acceptable, you both knew that. From the very beginning, it was built on mutual benefits rather than love. Sasuke never grew to be a loving husband, at least in the traditional sense of the word, and neither you learned how to play the role of the typical 'caring wife' at home. Yet, after six years together, you somehow managed to fall into a twisted cycle of love desperation and need for each other.

It wasn't the type of relationship that inspired poetry or flowery fairytales. It was raw, obsessive, and painful. There was darkness in both of you, one which you greedily embraced, feeding off each other's flaws, insecurities and unhappiness. Your fights were loud and destructive, as venomous words were aimed at each other's weakest spots. He never missed a chance to remind you of how unlovable you were - a shiny and pretty empty shell that men saw for its beauty, not for its substance. You never held back in holding his past sins over his head, bringing even his own brother as an argument when you found yourself cornered.

"Kinslayer playing house," you would hiss, the edge of your lips turning slightly upward as you notice his eyes darkening, "I wonder what your dear brother would think if he saw you right now."

Furniture would break, plates would fly, and just like every time, you would find yourselves in your shared bed, tangled in the passion and chaos on which you both thrived.

It was toxic, but it was also consuming. Neither of you knew how to break free from these chains, and neither of you really wanted to. It was addicting, it was broken and it was yours.

Till it suddenly wasn't.

When you brought up the divorce, he knew you have calculated the whole thing - the twins were in the room next door and you never fought when your kids were around. If there was one genuine thing that came out from this marriage, it was your two boys Isao and Jiro. They were born a year after you wed and for better or worse, were a perfect mix of both of your personalities.

Isao was the older son - a confident and focused kid, who despite his young age, has already shown impressive skills with ninjutsu and taijutsu. He always looked up to his father, seeking his approval as he pushed himself harder and harder every day. In a lot of ways, he reminded Sasuke of himself - his black eyes were full of determination, as he refused to settle for anything but being the best in everything he did. Yet, unlike his gloomy younger self, Isao possessed a level of charisma that he surely inherited from you.

Everyone loved Isao - and he knew how to use it to his advantage to get what he wanted, even from you.

Jiro on the other hand, preferred to stay in the background and observe, rather than to be in the centre of the attention. He had Sasuke's calm and reserved nature and unlike his brother, he didn't seek anyone's approval or attention. Quite the opposite - he preferred to hold back his true strength, patiently waiting and strategizing for the right moment to unleash it.

"I'm not letting you take my kids away from me," Sasuke promised you that night, his eyes boring into yours as he sat at the other end of the table.

His voice was cold and firm, so different from his usual venomous hiss he uses during arguments with you. But in his mind this wasn't an argument - it was just one of your many silly tantrums, a move inspired by nothing else than the desire to get under his skin.

"I am their mother and their place is with me," you stated seriously without even a hint of the usual mockery which could always be heard when you were speaking to your husband, "You can still see them during weekends - if you are in Konoha and not chasing shadows of threats across the villages, that's it."

Sasuke's jaw tightened, as he slammed his glass down louder than necessary. You didn't even flinch, as you held his gaze which was slowly becoming darker.

"What are you getting at?"

"You know very well I am getting at," you scoffed, the calm and collected composure finally cracking under the heaviness of all unspoken feelings you carried inside your chest, "When was the last time you spend more than a few days with your kids? You're constantly on the road, doing God knows what, while I am left here-"

"Stop bringing the children into this!" he snapped, interrupting you mid-sentence. His voice was low but with a note of irritation, proving to you that he was holding back for the sake of your children next door. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your teeth gritting together while you pressed your back against the chair. There may have been a fire of defiance burning inside of you, but even you knew when to draw the line, especially when he used that voice.

"This is about you, isn't it?" he clicked his tongue, his head shaking from side to side, "About your greediness and unsatisfiable need to suck the life out of everyone around you, before you move on to your next victim. What, did you already exhaust all the benefits you got from carrying the last name Uchiha?"

The room suddenly grew colder, as you stared at each other, his words still lingering in the tense air between you. He was never one to shy from the opportunity to hit you where he knew it hurt the most and in typical Sasuke's style, it was not his final blow either.

"You talk about my failures as a father all the time, but what kind of mother uses her own sons as pawns in her silly power game?"

Your breath hitched in your throat and before you can even think about it, you grabbed the dinner knife on your right and hurled it in his direction, aiming for his head. He dodged it effortlessly, his eyes narrowing as he saw you reaching for your fork next.

"If you are trying to get my head, dear wife," he said almost mockingly, catching the next flaying utensil with his hand before slamming it down on the table next to him, "Have the decency not to do it while the children are next door."

Gripping the edge of the table to stop yourself from throwing your plate next, all you could see in front of your eyes was red. Blinding, raging red, which was threatening to consume you whole.

God, you hated him! You hated him, you despised him and if it was up to you, he would burn in hell for at least a few eternities!

"You are the last person who gets to lecture me on decency," you chuckled dryly, before reaching for your wine glass and swallowing a large gulp, "Did you also talk to your brother about it when he slaughtered your whole family? Or when you killed him?"

Sasuke's expression immediately hardened and his hand clenched into a fist. He has met many infuriating women in his lifetime, but you... you were a monster! A beautiful nightmare that had her claws deep into his soul, chewing and digging into his very core.

"I've told you not to bring up Itachi-"

"Or what?" you leaned forward, one elegant brow raising as you placed your chin on top of your crossed fingers, "What will you do, Sasuke? Divorce me?"

It was clear you were pushing his limits, Sasuke knew you well enough by now to see through your attempts to rile him up. Despite his realisation, however, it was too late - you had already buried your stinger under his skin, poking at his past wounds that never closed. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to control his nerves.

"I am not giving you a divorce," he said finally, his tone cold, "So stop throwing your tantrum and find other ways to pass your free time, which you seem to have in excess. Perhaps finding a job will do you good."

Sasuke got up from his seat, pushing his plate to the side before exiting the dinner room without casting even a single glance in your direction. You pressed your lips together as you watched him leave, the door closing with a quiet thud behind him. There was a brief silence, before you heard Isao and Jiro's laughter from their room at the end of the corridor. With a sigh, you got up and you started to clear the table.

. . .

Whatever you wanted, you got. Sasuke had seen you going great lengths to achieve what you wanted. Yet, he didn't think you would actually go this far.

As a Shadow Hokage, he was used to spending months away from home, investigating threats made toward Konoha and if necessary, taking all the measures to get rid of them before they can become actual problems. Most of them were coming from rebel groups in neighbouring countries, who were trying to stir another armed conflict between the nations, but sometimes there were unexpected surprises.

One of these surprises was the letter he received one sunny morning by Koyuki, the leader of the Land of Snow. She had warned Konoha about rumours of unnamed groups, who were actively recruiting members to start a new cult against the Land of Fire. Their motivation seemed unclear, but she had provided enough evidence to give both Naruto and Sasuke a reason to worry.

Leaving the same day, he spend three months travelling across the small country, interviewing civilians, chasing trials and collecting evidence before he found out that his whole thing was orchestrated by no one else other than his own wife.

It wasn't the first time he had found himself tangled in one of your schemes. You had not only the influence, but also the connections long before you became an Uchiha. After you got his last name they only intensified and a single word from you was enough to set a whole series of events and tangle dozen of innocent people in them.

The letter from Koyuki should've been the first sign something was going on. After all, he knew that you two did know each other and that she often described herself as "girl's girl", whatever that nonsense meant. And then all the evidence that kept pointing to no one in particular, before he finally realised this was all one carefully crafted deception.

There was no cult, there were no threats and there was certainly no one in the whole country that even cared about Land of Fire, let alone bother to threaten it.

At first, he couldn't understand what was your motivation. Were you doing it to spite him? To make him look like a fool? Obviously you didn't think about about the potential damage on the alliance between the two countries, and even if you did, you simply didn't care.

"I am sorry it came to this," Koyuki said as she was bidding him farewell at the village's gates, "It’s nothing personal. It’s just a favor to an old friend."

A favor.

The word ringed in his mind the whole way back home and Sasuke didn't completely connect the dots till he came back home, only to find the compound empty, a signed divorce pack laying on the table. He didn't waste even a second in flipping through the pages, his jaw tightening as he realised that not only he was your ex-husband now, but that you planned this whole thing to keep him long enough so you can convince the Hokage to sign your request to end your marriage in his absence.

"She said you both have reached an agreement and that you specifically gave your permission for her to deal with all the legal stuff, since you know... you were away for a while," Naruto said carefully once the Uchiha confronted him, his brows furrowing in confusion, "Is there something wrong?"

Sasuke had never pulled the curtain behind your marriage before, the image of your family always being perfectly polished picture of the ideal union in front of the society - a noble warrior with a beautiful influential wife, and two talented sons, both already known as the most promising young ninjas at the Academy. To the world, you and him were the epitome of love and success.

Only the two of you knew the truth and he was determined to keep it that way.

"Nothing wrong other than the fact that the Hokage allowed himself to sign papers affecting my life in my absence," Sasuke said coldly, before laying the report of his mission on the blonde's desk, "Me and Mrs. Uchiha have agreed to hold off any final decision until I returned. You shouldn't have dissolved our marriage."

Naruto's expression faltered for a moment, before his gaze hardened at the sound of his friend’s accusation. He wasn't seeing how he was the bad guy in the whole situation, when you were the one who sought his approval of your divorce petition.

"Sasuke," the Hokage said slowly, his voice suddenly sounding more serious than usual, "I was told by Mrs. Uchiha herself that it was a mutual decision and that it was already settled."

"Are you blaming my wife for your failure to follow the proper administrative procedures?" Sasuke snapped, his eyes narrowing at the man before him. If there is one thing he had learned from you, it was how to always turn the tables in his favour.

"She was alone for months and was probably worried sick if her husband will come back at all," he continued, conveniently missing the fact that it was all you who created this whole situation in the first place, "She was acting under the influence of her distress and worry. You, on the other hand, should've known better."

Naruto sighed, before rubbing one of his hands up and down his face. What was exactly going on between you and Sasuke, he would never understand.

From the outside, you two appeared to have everything one couple could wish for - stable family (or not so much now that your divorce was finalized), money, influence, respect. People looked at you and used you as an example of what they wanted to achieve in the future.

For a long time, Naruto also believed that perfectly crafted image, and deep inside, even resented his friend for building such a life. Of course, he loved Hinata with all his heart, but he couldn't lie and say that the intensity of his job hasn't affected their relationship. There were days when he couldn't even see the eyes of his kids, let alone talk to them or train with them. His wife has always remained patient and understanding, but his guilt had already become a constant in his mind.

And then there was Sasuke.

He was often missing for months on end, yet still managed to return to a happy family back home. His kids were cheerful and obedient, excelling in their training and seemingly never resenting their father's prolonged absences. Meanwhile, you - the beautiful and intelligent civilian wife - held the household together, while single-handedly cleared the Uchiha name of whatever bloodshed had tarnished it in the past.

It was yours and Sasuke's world and everyone else was just living in it.

Yet, the more he interacted with either of you, the more he could see how different and toxic you were for each other. He had no doubt you held some type of love for each other, but it was far from the gentle and nurturing kind he and Hinata had. Yours was raw, obsessive, sometimes even cruel.

He had seen the subtle cracks in your act before. Sasuke, with his silent obsession to control you, monitoring every single step you made. Who were you talking to, what were you wearing, when did you eat, how often have you left the house - he knew everything, even when he was miles away. He has abused his position before by having shinobi watching over you, reporting every detail of your daily life to him. Naruto knew about it, but at the time he was just excusing it as Sasuke being overprotective.

The longer it continued, however, the more distant you became. Sasuke had slowly cut off your ties with everyone he deemed an unnecessary connection - including many of his old friends - reducing everyone close to you to mere acquittances.

Yet, you remained defiant. There was a challenge in everything you did - from the way you liked to oppose him in public to the way you bribed the shinobi around your house so they would spare your ex-spouse some of the details of your daily life. You liked getting under his skin and, unlike many other women would, seemed to enjoy playing with his possessiveness. Sometimes your gaze would linger just a second longer on other men, while gracing them with a flirty joke or a seductive smile, before you turn toward Sasuke to check his reaction.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Naruto, his voice laced with frustration as he stared at his old friend. He already messed up by taking your word for the divorce agreement and signing the documents in Sasuke's absence, he wasn't sure he wanted to involve himself even more in whatever game you two were playing.

"You already did enough," the Uchiha scoffed, turning away and starting to walk toward the door, "Just keep your nose out of my and my wife's business. I will take care of this mess."

. . .

During the months following the divorce, Sasuke was more of a husband to you than he has been for the whole six years you were married.

It was ironic, really. After years of him devoting himself completely to the village, he had now taken "indefinite break" because he wanted to "spend time with his family". The first time you heard this rumour you scoffed, unable to believe that Sasuke would actually let go of his relentless pursuit of redemption, let alone because of his ex-wife and kids. However, you were proven wrong the moment Isao and Jiro came back from the Academy one day, all happy and smiling because "Dad said we are moving back home".

You have been underestimating him, it seemed. You always knew Sasuke Uchiha was a man who was persistent in chasing his goals, yet you always seen his idea of honour and moral as weaknesses - flaws that held him back, instead of push him forward. Not that you lacked any, of course, but your approach has always been a bit more... flexible. You weren't afraid to bend a few moral principles if it meant gaining the upper hand.

But your ex-husband was a completely different man from the one you had married six years ago. And for the first time since you met, it was him that was always one step ahead of you.

It started with the children first. Isao and Jiro have always looked up to their father, eager to prove themselves as worthy Uchiha in his eyes. Deep down, however, they were momma's boys. Maybe because Sasuke was absent so frequently and for so long, or maybe because it was just a natural bond, the one between a mother and her sons.

With Sasuke stepping back from his shinobi duties, however, the balance had shifted. He started to be the one to take them to school and pick them up in the afternoon; he spend at least a few hours every afternoon training each one; he took them on day trips across the Land of Fire on weekends. Suddenly he was not just an absent figure of admiration in their life - instead, he was an active father, a hero, a mentor.

Then, he used that newly created bond to pull you back to your old home. At first, it was one day per week "for the boys' sake". Then it was every weekend, because "the kids deserved some sense of normality". Soon, your "new normal" was to spend almost every night back in the Uchiha compound, the casual dinners stretching into overnight stays. It wasn't till Isao and Jiro informed you that Sasuke has told them you three are moving back "home" that you realized how quickly and effectively he managed to push himself back into your life.

He had finally cracked the key to make you submit - while you were quick to dismiss and say 'no' to him, you were powerless when it was your children pleading with you.

"Ironic how you were the one accusing me of using my own sons as pawns once, yet here you are, doing exactly that," you muttered one evening, while cutting vegetables for dinner. While Sasuke was decent enough to provide you with your own house in the compound, between the boys constantly asking for family dinners and your ex-husband orchestrating late night activities for them to bond, you spend the majority of your time in the main house.

Sasuke, who was seated at the kitchen table, looked up from the scroll he was reading, his dark eyes boring into the back of your head.

"Isao and Jiro deserve to have a normal family," he said calmly, ignoring the loud snort that left your lips after he said those words. You casted a side glance at him, one of your brows raising in mock disbelief.

When you didn't receive an answer, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you needed to take it a little bit further.

"I am not going to be here for dinner tonight."

No answer.

"I have a date."

Sasuke's hand stilled and he lowered the scroll once again, his eyes closing. He knew your games by now, he knew it was not beyond you to use other males' attention as a tool to test his patience, yet he couldn't help but feel his stomach twist at the idea of you going out with another man.

"With who?" he asked after a minute of silence, making you smirk to yourself. Ah, there it was - the little crack in his stoic armor that you have been searching for! No matter how much he liked to pretend he hates you or doesn't care about you, the good old trick of bringing a another man into the conversation always worked.

"Oh, you don't know him," you replied casually, sliding the chopped vegetables into the pot and make a few stirs with the wooden spoon, "He is not a shinobi. A kind man, attentive and gentle... with two arms. Everything you are not, really."

A loud scoff left his lips and you turned around to face him, the wooden spoon dangling from your left hand. Sasuke looked at you with furrowed brows, his hand slowly starting to roll the scroll back.

"Doesn't seem you type," he observed, his head finally lifting in your direction. He didn't look half as bothered as you expected, yet you noticed the faintest flicker of annoyance bubbling right under the surface.

You needed to push just a liiiittlleeeee bit more.

"Oh, he is exactly my type!" you grinned at your ex-husband, before crossing your arms in front of your chest, "Still wondering how did I get so lucky!"

Surprisingly your words seemed to humor him and he let out a dry chuckle, while standing up from his seat. You watched him come closer, and you could feel your breath hitching as you saw his hand reaching toward your face.

But right when you thought he was about to cup your cheek, he reached to the small bowl on the shelf behind you and grabbed an apple.

"I think the real question is how did he get so unlucky," he smirked at you before taking a bite.

The AUDACITY of this man!

"Glad to know your sense of humour is just as nonexistent as it was before," you rolled your eyes at him, before turning around to stir your soup. Despite your attempt to pretend his closeness did not affect you, he could notice the small blush on the tip of your ears and the sudden stiffness in your shoulders.

"I am not joking," he calmly chewed his apple, his eyes trained on the side of your face, "He must be quite the loser to go after a woman who is still living with her husband and kids."

You grimaced at his words, your head turning to the side as you challenged him with a glare. If looks could kill, he would've been long gone by now.

"Ex-husband", you corrected him, your jaw clenching as you caught the slightest twitch of his lips upward, "I know you were too busy to attend the divorce hearing with the Hokage, but-"

"I was not busy!" he suddenly interrupted you, his expression becoming serious, "I was away because you orchestrated a whole false cult, which put our alliance with the Land of Snow at risk, just so you can keep me away for long enough to lie to Naruto and get him to sign your petition."

There was a brief silence during which you narrowed your eyes at him, before you shrugged your shoulders.

"I told you I want a divorce."

"And I told you, I am not going to give you one."

His words made you pause, the spoon still held tight by your right hand while you were clutching your apron with your left. You gave a few more stirs to your soup, before setting the utensil down and turning fully toward him.

"I always get what I want," you smiled sweetly, before reaching for his face. Just like you did before, he seemed to freeze for a few seconds, completely thrown off by your gesture. Just when he thought your fingers may brush against his skin, you snatched the apple from his hands, a victorious smirk on your face.

"I thought you knew that by now."

. . .

It wasn't everyday that a man had the chance to take out a beautiful woman out for a dinner, and such an occasion deserved special preparation.

When your date came to pick you up, he made sure to wear his nicest clothes, put his most expensive cologne and buy the biggest bouquet at the flower shop. He lifted his hand against the massive wooden door, nervously checking that he was right on time, before knocking a few times. The door creaked open, but the view that met him on the other side was not one he expected.

"Uh... hi!" he stammered, his cheeks becoming a light shade of pink as the dark-haired man before him stared at him blankly. A few minutes of silence passed, during which Sasuke looked him up and down, before he raised a dark brow.

"Are you lost?" your ex-husband asked impatiently. So far the only true characteristic from your description earlier is the fact the man had two arms. But handsome? Pffttt.

The man blinked rapidly before clearing his throat a bit. Of course, he found it strange that you told him to pick you up from the Uchiha compound, as you were not with Sasuke anymore, but he assumed you got the house during the divorce proceeding. He didn’t think you lived together.

"No, no! I am here to pick up-"

"My wife?" Sasuke interrupted, his expression bored. He had to bite back a smirk as he looked at your date chuckling nervously, before scratching the back of his head. It was as clear as day that you did all this to get him jealous, but honestly you could do so much better than this idiot.

"Your ex-wife" the man furrowed his brows, mentally praying to all deities he could think of, that you did not in fact get back together with the Uchiha. Not that he blamed you - if he was a woman, he wouldn't let go of him in the first place. You had not told him much about your marriage or why you separated, but it was clear that whatever dynamic you had going on was way more complicated than he first thought. He had heard rumours in town that Sasuke still referred to you as Mrs. Uchiha and while you pretended you have not noticed, the Uchiha crest was still proudly decorating the back of all of your kimonos.

Sasuke let his lips curve in a small smirk, as he leaned against the doorframe.

"You got the wrong door," he finally said, nodding his head toward the rest of the compound, where a numerous small houses were standing, separated by tight dark alleys, "Mrs. Uchiha lives further down in the compound."

"Oh?", your date exclaimed, his face twisted in something between confusion and reluctance, "Well, I am sorry to bother you then-"

"Follow me," Sasuke suddenly said, completely ignoring what the other man was about to say, before stepping out of the house and walking down the stairs. Your date hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between your ex-husband and the now closed door, before reluctantly decided to follow.

"I am sorry if this is awkward-"

"Loose your tie a bit, you look like you are going to choke," Sasuke interrupted once again, his eyes trained on the dark path in front of him as he didn't even glance in the other male's direction, "And uncuff your trousers! It is ridiculous for a man your age to come to pick up a woman like my wife wearing socks with printed ducks on them."

Your date flushed red, as he hurried to loose his tie and fix the bottom of his pants, while Sasuke continued to walk toward the house where you were supposedly staying. For a moment your admirer wondered if this was not just one big ploy by your husband... ex-husband to get him alone and get rid of him. As he saw the shadow of your figure passing by one of the windows in the distance, however, he relaxed.

It was all fine. It was all going to be fine-

"Wait here," Sasuke instructed as they both reached the door, before reaching for the handle. Before the man can even open his mouth to reply, Sasuke slipped inside and shut the door right under his nose.

As you heard the door opening and closing, you came downstairs to the living room, where your ex-husband was standing with his hand on his waist. His eyes widened just the tiniest bit as they landed on your descending figure, his gaze slowly running from your hair, lifted in a straight high ponytail, to your chest where a gold metallic corset was pushing your breasts forward, showing just enough skin to wake up the imagination. The white fabric of your dress fell down in gentle folds, the high slits that run up each leg, offering a glimpse of your smooth skin with each step that you took.

Ethereal. Powerful. His.

If Sasuke had to describe with only a few words, it would be exactly these.

"Can I help you?" your voice brought Sasuke back to reality and he cleared his throat, his face immediately falling into its usual stoic expression. You smirked as you noticed the apple of his cheeks becoming a slight shade of red, the idea of still having that effect on him after years tickling your sensitive ego.

"Your date is here," he said blankly, his jaw clenching as he tried hard not to let his eyes wander down once again. Damn you, damn you, damn you! When did you even got that dress? Sasuke was pretty sure he knew each piece of clothing in your wardrobe and yet he has never seen this one. There was no doubt in his mind that you didn't do all this for the awkward loser outside, you did this for him.

"Alright," you hummed, leaning your head to the side as you fixed one of your earrings, "And why are you here? You could've just send him down, you didn't have to play the role of a tour guide."

And of course your big mouth just had to shatter whatever fantasy was swirling in Sasuke's head as he was still staring at you. He rolled his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping his lips.

"If I didn't show him where you are, he would've been doing circles around the compound all night," he gave you a funny look, as he lifted a brow, "Really? You said he is the "whole package" - kind, smart, handsome, ... so far the only true thing turned out to be that he indeed have all his limbs."

You clicked your tongue as you moved toward the large mirror in the corner of the living room, completely ignoring your ex-husband who watched each one of yours steps like a predator ready to pounce on his prey any second now.

"Oh, don't be so harsh!" you glanced over your shoulder so you can give him a small smirk, "He can be polished here and there, but he still has his charm."

He let out a small chuckle, as he started to make slow, deliberate steps in your direction.

"He came to pick you up wearing socks with ducks..."

You lifted a brow, your mischievous gaze meeting Sasuke's through the reflection of the mirror.

"Oh? I didn't know that they did socks with your face on them, let alone that he is a fan."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed at your childish jab, before his features twisted in amusement. Since you saw that one childhood photo with Team 7 years ago, you just couldn't let his old hairstyle go. While he usually would scoff or roll his eyes at your antics, now he held your gaze firmly as he closed the remaining distance between you, his chest pressing against your upper back.

"You have always been one hell of a woman...," he muttered, his breath tickling the back of your neck. Your breathing increased slightly as you watched him lean over your shoulder, the playful tension that was filling the room till now quickly turning into something else.

"Do you think he can handle you?" Sasuke continued, the side of his face pressing against yours as he continued to stare right into your soul. His hand made its way toward your waist, harshly pulling you back against him till you could feel the print of his hardness right against your bottom. You let out a short gasp, instinctively leaning back against him.

"Do you think he can keep up with your little games? To match your fire, your temper..."

His hand moved lower, the tips of his rough fingers grazing the bit of visible skin there causing another shaky breath to leave your lips. It was embarrassing, how wet and bothered he managed to get you just with a single stare and a few words. The lacy underwear you have been wearing was already soaked, sticking to your puffy lips as you tried to rub your thighs together before Sasuke dug his fingers in your skin, stilling you in place.

"You're so dirty," he laughs quietly, his chapped lips grazing the tip of your ear, before landing a small kiss right behind it, "Was that your plan all along? To bring a naive fool to our home, so I can fuck some brains into you? Remind you that you belong to me?"

The blissful state your mind was in was shattered to pieces as he reminded you about your date. Shit, he was right in front of the door! As if he somehow read your mind, just second later there was an urgent knock on the door.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Your eyes widened and you tried to push your ex-husband's hand away from you, which made him only grip you tighter. His hips buckled against you and you bit your lip, holding back a groan.

"Tell him you are going to be a minute," Sasuke instructed against your ear, his lips slowly kissing their way down to your shoulder, "Don't send him away... yet."

There was a hint of darkness in his tone and this was your first sign that you should do anything but what he is telling you. As his hand slipped through the slit of your dress and between you thighs, however, you couldn't even form a single thought in your brain, let alone follow it.

"I will be a.. ah!... minute," you called out, your voice shaking as you felt your ex-husband dragging his fingers against your laced pussy, collecting the juices that were now freely flowing through the thin material, "I am just about to be... ready."

Sasuke couldn't help but smile triumphally not only at the fact that you did exactly what he told you, but that no matter how much you said you hated him and how many stunts you pulled against him, you could still crumble in his hand with him barely doing anything.

He grazed your soaked pussy, avoiding the bundle of nerves that you desperately tried to get him to touch by wriggling your hips left and right. It was laughable, really - you always talked back to him, you always liked to oppose... yet in moments like now, there was nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

"Sasuke," you groaned in a hushed town, earing nothing but a low chuckle from your ex-husband. The pads of his ring and middle finger circled your entrance, his smirk becoming bigger as he could feel your soaked panties basically clutching to your lips now.

"What is it, my wife?" he dragged the last word down, his mouth latching against the sensitive skin on the side of your neck. Your head fell back against his shoulder, both of your hands now gripping his muscular forearm as he finally pushed your panties to the side. As he reached for your clit, gently rolling the little pearl against his thumb and forefinger, you let out a loud moan, unable to hold back anymore. Your knees buckled and you pressed your ass and back firmly against him, seeking any type of steadiness before you fall to the floor.

"What do you want, hm?" Sasuke muttered, his eyes moving back to the mirror so he could observe your fucked out expression - eyes shut tightly; glossy lips open in the prettiest 'o' shape; red colours spreading from your cheeks all down your neck... Fuck, you were a handful, but for this sight he was ready to take anything you threw his way - from insults to your poor attempts to make him jealous.

"Sasuke, you know what I want," you whined again, your head rolling against his shoulder till you found yourself face to face with him, "Just give it to me."

In any other situation he would've made you wait longer - after all you had been giving him nothing but headaches in the past few months. But as he looked down at you, his pretty wife, who was practically asking him to take her once again, to reclaim her as fully his... How could he say 'no'?

Spreading your glistering puffy lips apart, he collected some of your arousal, before roughly burying two fingers inside. You immediately fall forward, your hands gripping the sides of the mirror, as Sasuke immediately start pumping his digits in a rough pace. It's not hurtful - you are so wet, you are pretty sure you could even take his dick without any preparation - yet he couldn't mask the slight smugness he felt once he felt how tight you were. A clear sign you haven’t been with another man since him.

“Ah-Sas-..Sasuke!” you panted as his fingers brushed that one spongy spot inside of you that was making you see stars. The room was filled with your gasps and the slick sound of his hand rhythmically moving in and out of you, so loud that Sasuke was sure that the poor fool outside was hearing just as clearly.

As he felt the slight shiver of your thighs he roughly pulled his fingers out, before landing a loud slap on your quivering pussy. You gasped, your eyes immediately opening wide so you can glare at your ex-husband.

"Arrogant prick!" you thought as turned to face him but before you could say the words out loud, he wrapped his hand around your forearm before roughly pulling you toward the door.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, your eyes widening as your stumbled after him. You expected the jealousy, but making you open the door in the dishevelled state you were in was just cruel. Sasuke didn't answer, but just as you thought he would open the door and force you to face your poor date, he turned you around and slammed your back against it.

"Hello? Is everything okay in there?" your date's voice sounded and Sasuke couldn't help but roll his eyes. There is no way that idiot did not hear your whimpers of pleasure and especially the sound of your drenched pussy sucking your ex-husband's fingers in an out, why was he still here? He was either deaf or really, really ignorant.

Either way, Sasuke was determined to show him who you belong to. Or even better, he was determined to make you show him.

"Everything is fine... I will be a minute," you called out, your eyes focused on the mismatched ones of your lover - fuck, ex-lover.

Damn you, Sasuke Uchiha!

Deep down whatever consciousness you had left was quietly whispering that you should feel bad. That you actually genuinely liked the man on the other side of the door and, for once, you wanted to experience love. Real one, gentle... like the ones of all the other couples you keep seeing on the streets. Without the fighting, without the hatred, without the constant pain and hurt.

Yet as you stared at Sasuke, you felt yourself being consumed once again by the fire that has always burned between you. It was maddening and reckless to go back into the same cycle, the one that felt more like a battle rather than war.

"You are unbelievable!" you groaned quietly, your teeth gritting against each other, "Why can't you just let go? I don't want you anymore! I want something normal, something that doesn't hurt all the time!"

Sasuke's expression darkened and he narrowed his eyes while studying you. He remained silent for a minute and you thought that he may finally back off, but instead he stepped even closer, trapping you between his muscular chest and the door. His hand moved to cradle your jaw, while his head leaned forward.

"You can keep repeating the same lie over and over," he muttered, his lips barely brushing against yours, "But you know that is not who you are. It's not who we are."

A small sigh left past your lips and Sasuke used it as sign to close the little distance between you. You and him have been intimate thousands of times before, but your shared kisses can be counted on the fingers of your one hand. Maybe because kisses were usually saved for lovers, the one that shared the sweet and kind type of love, rather than the raw and brutal one you had between you. Or maybe they have always been too intimate, a confession that neither of you were ready to make till now.

Unlike other times this kiss was not just a peck or a battle of dominance. It was slow and deep, an act which was supposed to show everything that both of you couldn't put into words. As he licked your bottom lip, you opened your mouth to welcome his tongue in it - an opportunity which he eagerly took, pressing you harder against the door with his body. His hand roamed between your waist and your thighs, before he reached for your chest, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing roughly.

"Ah, Sasuke!" you gasped your head falling back, as his lips moved down your neck, softly sucking and biting the sensitive skin there. While there was a certain roughness to his moves, he was still way gentler than usual, making you rub your thighs together in a weak attempt to get some friction. He must've saw that because a second later, he roughly pushed his own leg between yours, preventing you from getting any type of relief.

You opened your eyes just enough to send him a glare but closed them once again as you felt his fingers swiftly untying the top of your corset, before pulling your breasts out and pinching your left nipple. Sasuke could barely hold back a smirk, as you watched your back arch forward, seeking even closer contact with him.

As he moved down your body, placing damp kiss down your collarbone, chest and side of your breast, his hand found it's way under your dress once again. He started to draw small circles on your swollen clit, as his lips wrapped around your other nipple and before you could sink your teeth in your lip, you made the loudest, most pornographic moan both Sasuke and your date have ever heard.

A few moves were enough for your legs to start trembling once again, the knot from your previous denied orgasm forming once again at the pit of your stomach. You opened your eyelids as you looked down at Sasuke, who was still kissing, sucking and biting your breasts, leaving his marks all over the soft skin.

"Sasuke...," you mumbled, your hips buckling as he slipped two of his fingers inside, his thumb increasing its pace on your clit. Suddenly everything felt overwhelming - the image of your ex-husband in front of you, the sound of your date who was now eagerly knocking on the door behind you, mumbling something about how all the Uchihas can go to hell, the light above you which was suddenly shining brighter the closer you were getting to the edge.

"Come for me," Sasuke muttered against the plush skin of your boob, the harsh bite that followed enough to make the knot inside of you snap. Your fingers pulled his black locks earing a small hiss from him, finally freeing your chest from his lips.

He held you close to him as you slowly came back to your senses, your body limp in his arms. The knocking on the door behind you had stopped long ago, the memory of your date swearing and throwing the flowers he had brought against the window next to you now echoing at the back of your mind. Before you had the time to think about him, however, your ex-husband fell to his knees, his hand lifting one of your legs on his shoulder as he lifted your dress above your hips.

Sasuke had felt the lacy material under his fingers earlier, but as he was now looking at the type of underwear you had chosen to go out on a date with another man, he felt the earlier jealousy coming back to his chest. White lacy panties, which were now drenched with both your arousal and the juices from your release, with a white bow on the front... really?

"Were you planning to let him fuck you?", he asked annoyed, his forehead creasing as he glanced up at you. A bright red colour covered your cheeks, but you turned to the side, refusing to answer.

Were you? Sure, maybe the thought had crossed your mind and maybe this is exactly why you choose these panties. But deep down, you knew that even if you went on that date and let him bring you back to his house, you would've probably backed out in the last minute.

No one can handle you the way Sasuke can.

"Answer!" Sasuke snapped impatiently, his fingers pinching your swollen and oversensitive clit through your panties. You quickly shook your head, your hands burying themselves in his silky hair once again so you can pull his head away just enough to see his eyes.

"Of course not!" you said and Sasuke rolled his eyes, half-expecting for you to deny the truth anyway. If he wasn't face to face to your drenched cunt, the aroma of your juices fogging his mind with only one thought - that he needed to have you - he would've probably told you off. But even if he was one of the most powerful men on the planet, he was still just a man - and with this ethereal sight in front of hem, he could do no more than remain on his knees and worship you the way you deserved to be worshiped.

With one harsh move, your panties pooled down your ankles while your ex-husband buried his head between your legs. Sasuke always prided himself to be a man of self-control and discipline, yet the moment he got to taste you, he forgot any of that.

Heavy puffs of air mixed with loud moans, as he latched his slightly chapped lips on your clit, sucking harshly before lightly flicking the tip of his tongue against it. Your hands harshly gripped his hair, making an attempt to push him away from your oversensitive folds, which were met with a rough slap against the inside of your thight.

"Hold still, brat," he mumbled as his tongue buried itself inside of you, his nose rubbing against your shiny pearl. You wanted to snap at him, tell him he knows how much you hate when he calls you that, but your body could do nothing else than to buckle against his face, your eyelids shutting down so tightly, bursts of rainbow colours infiltrated your closed vision.

He could feel your walls tightening around his tongue, more of your sweet nectar flowing from your pussy as he hungrily drank everything you gave him. Sasuke was rarely so desperate and open, completely giving up control as he made a mess out of both of you.

"Sasuke, please-," you tried to beg, an usual softness filling your voice as you sought mercy from him. And while his pants were getting uncomfortably tight, he wanted to teach you a lesson, to show you that you are his and his only. You deserved no mercy.

Not after all your little stunts recently.

Sasuke could feel his tip leaking pre-cum just from all the sweet sounds you made, encouraging him to only start lapping at your puffy lips faster and faster, his fingers digging themselves into your soft thigh as you tried to pull away and push yourself closer at the same time.

"One more," he whispered into your pussy, his lips and chin dripping with your arousal, "I know you can give me one more."

You whimpered in response, your head falling back as he pulled a second orgasm out of you, slurping all of your juices without pulling away even for a second to breathe.

His erratic movements soon turned into sloppy licks as he cleaned you up, his tongue catching every single drop of your release. You twitched in his grasp, weakly pushing him away, the feeling of his mouth too much for your oversensitive pussy right now.

Sasuke slowly lowered your leg from his shoulder back on the ground, his arm tightly gripping the side of your hip as he tried to stabilize your quivering form.

"You came only twice and you are already shaking like a leaf," he noted with a smirk, before standing up back to his feet. Blinking a few times, you tried to ground yourself back to reality, before your arms found their way around his neck, leaning your full weight against him.

"Gosh, just shut up!" you mumbled, not wanting to break out from your euphoric state just to deal with the annoying ramblings of your ex-husband. He clicked his tongue, his hand moving to your lower back and pressing you flush against him.

For the first time in all the years you have known each other, you stood in each other's embrace without the weight of anger, hate or pride threatening to crush you. There was no shouting, no flying objects, no painful insults - just you, holding each other and silently admitting that neither of you wanted normal.

You craved chaos. You craved the intensity, the frustration, the pain, the longing.

You craved him.

Pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes searches his mismatched ones for something - anger, hesitation, adoration, anything. You wanted... you didn't even know what you wanted either. Maybe some clarity, maybe a sign that it doesn't always have to be this messy, this hurtful and this complicated.

All you were met with was the same dark gaze that he always had when he laid his eyes on you. It was never loving or soft, not in the way that he was looking at your children, for example. With you they were always holding a storm of emotions behind them, one which you could never fully decipher.

Desire? Regret? Irritation? Admiration? Pride? Hate?

They were all there, clashing and mixing in such a way that you were never sure if he was looking at you like you were his biggest regret in life or like he couldn't bear the thought of you being anywhere else but by his side.

Hesitantly, you lifted yourself on your toes and pressed your lips against him. It was a gentle peck, unlike your kiss earlier. Sasuke stiffened for a moment, his eyes widening at the unexpected softness from you. Was this another one of your games? But before he could think more about it, you grabbed his hand and started to pull him back into the house and up the stairs to your bedroom.

Sasuke followed you almost instinctively, a certain cautiousness to his steps. He watched you open the door, before you gently pushed him in till the back of his knees hit the bed and he reluctantly sat down. His eyes twitched as you stood before his open legs, expertly undoing the rest of your corset before throwing it to the side. Your hands then slowly pushed the straps of your dress down, allowing it to fall down at your ankles, leaving you completely bare in front of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply as he watched you climb up his lap. Despite his hostility, however, he didn't push you away. Instead his eyes bore into yours, studying you and trying to understand the underlying motive of your actions.

You were never this... soft. Not with him, anyway. Your sex life was a mirror of your relationship - urgent, rough, fast. You never made love - you fucked. It often felt like a battle of dominance, rather than a union between your bodies.

Now, however, you were taking your time. Your forehead gently pressed against his, as your hand started to slowly unbutton his shirt, before sliding it down his muscular shoulders. You have seen his body countless of times before, but this time it felt different. There was no other light other than the bright moonlight coming through the window, as you dragged your fingers across the numerous healed scars across his skin. It was such a stark contrast - the softness of your hands, ones that never even held a weapon, against the roughness of his body, one built for battles and war.

His breath hitched as he felt one of your hands slide down the shoulder of his missing arm and he involuntarily twitched away, almost as if he was trying to hide it away from you. His reaction was not surprising - he always tried to hide the imperfect parts of himself, his Rinnegan and his missing arm, either by using the solace of the darkness or by having you in such positions that your back would be facing his naked form.

In this moment there was nowhere to hide. And Sasuke wasn't sure he liked that.

"Don't," he said, his voice rough, "I swear, if this is one of your games-"

Another unexpected peck on his lips interrupted his train of thoughts as you continued your exploration of his body. It was weird not only for him, but also for you - he never let you in like that, not when he was completely exposed and vulnerable. It felt like you explored him for the first time, and in a way, you actually were. No walls, no layers of hate and tension between you.

"Shh...," you whispered, your breath ghosting across his skin, "I am not going to hurt you."

Sasuke wanted to scoff at your words. There was no reality or place in time where the two of you didn't hurt each other. Neither of you knew how to stop. Pain was part of who you were and as twisted as it was, it was at the core of your love for each other.

His muscles tensed as your hands slid down his abs and started to work on the strings of his pants. His hand instinctively shot out to catch your wrist, stopping your mid-way of unzipping his pants, as his breathing became heavier. He locked his eyes on you, searching for a sign, any sign that you were just playing him - either a small smirk or a mischievous spark in your eyes - yet there were none.

The look in your eyes was one of a lover, not an enemy.

Loosening his grip on your wrist, he watched you as you pulled his zipper down before he lifted his hips so you can slide down his pants. Your lips found their way to his neck, pressing soft kisses against his warm skin as you slowly trained downward. He let out a shaky breath as he felt you kissing his scars, spending extra time on the ones on his chest and abdomen before you slid down on your knees in front of him.

In the past, you have always refused to pleasure him orally. "It's something that only lovers do", you would say with a frown, drawing a clear boundaries of what you were willing to do in the bedroom. Sasuke never pushed for it, either - one thing about him is that no matter how dominant or controlling he was, he respected your wishes. As someone who wasn't particularly needy or with a high libido, he didn't care that much.

But as he watched you grab his rock hard cock in your hand, slowly rubbing your thumb across the tip and smearing the leaking pre-cum, he wondered if he actually didn't care or if he just never knew what he was missing. The sigh before him - his beautiful, defiant wife sitting on her knees and slowly pumping his dick, while placing soft kisses across his thighs - was one that has only appeared once or twice in his dreams before.

Your pace was slow, almost painful as you moved closer and closer to where he was needing you the most, your eyes shifting toward his face every few seconds in order to catch each one of his reactions. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed loudly, a pink colour covering his pale cheeks and neck. His eyes bore into yours, a barely addible moan leaving his lips once you finally wrap your lips around his pink mushroom tip.

Digging one of your hands in his thigh, you take more of him, slowly moving your head back and forth while coating his dick in a mix of your spit and his pre-cum. Sasuke groans once he feels him reaching the back of your throat and his hand instinctively goes to your head, gripping your ponytail as he tried to ground himself and not cum right then and there.

If there was heaven, this had to be it. And maybe he was there, because in what world would his ex-wife suck him off on an evening she was supposed to be out with someone else? You looked up at him through your lashes as you hollowed your cheeks, a new wave of pleasure washing over your body as you saw him closing his eyes.

"Fuck...," he breathed out, a thin layer of sweat starting to form on the top of his forehead, "My wife... just like that.."

His words only seemed to encourage you and you hummed around him, the vibrations making him buck his hips involuntarily. As you started to move faster, his grip on your hair tightened and your hand trailed down back between your legs where your pussy was clenching around nothing.

You pulled away slightly, twirling your tongue over his slit before sliding it down all the way down to his balls. You laid a few small kisses on each one, before taking his left one in your mouth and sucking harshly, earning yourself a sharp gasp from him. It was almost intoxicating, having so much power over a man, who had spend years trying to make you submit to him.

As you took his cock in your mouth again, you put even more effort in trying to bring him closer to the edge. Burying your face against his h pelvis, you flattened your tongue as you felt his head brushing at the back of your throat. Shiny tears started to roll down your cheeks and you gagged around his fat length, the need to pull away to take a breath burning your lungs, yet you didn't stop.

"Ah.. I'm.. close...," he breathed out and you could see his chest starting to move rapidly up and down, as his hold on your head tightened. Once you started to feel him pulsating, however, you pulled out with a loud 'pop', grinning once he gives you a nasty glare.

"What the actual fuck?" he snaps, his brain still foggy with the need to cum, "Are you serious?"

You only roll your eyes in response to your ex-husband's dramatic reaction, before you stood up and made your way back on top of him Resting your hands on his chest, you pushed him down till he was laying flat on his back and you hovered your dripping cunt over his pulsating cock.

Whatever other complaint he was ready to give quickly died in his throat as the moonlight exposed your full beauty in front of him - makeup smeared across your cheeks, fat tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes, pussy glistering in the juices of your own arousal. It was a messy sight - filthy, even - and a perfect representation of your love for each other.

"I need you inside of me," you gasp, your thighs trembling as you brush your swollen clit against his tip, "I need to -ah! I need to feel you!"

You didn't wait for a response as you grabbed his cock and the base and aligned it with your entrance, before slowly sinking in. Your eyes remained locked on his and almost in unison, a loud moan left both of your lips.

"Fuck..," you whimpered, your walls involuntarily tightening around Sasuke's dick as you adjusted to his length. His mouth and fingers could make you see stars, but nothing could even remotely compare to the feeling of having him inside of you. It felt like you were made for each other, his thickness stretching you out just enough for the pain to be pleasurable.

As you started to slowly move up and down, Sasuke gripped the side of your waist helping your keep a steady rhythm. His teeth sank in his bottom lip as his moved down and focused to where the two of you connected.

You let out a loud yelp when he suddenly landed a heavy slap on one of your plush ass cheeks, digging his fingers into its softness. He could feel your juices leaking all over his thighs, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder as your moves become faster.

"Good girl," he muttered, his feet planting firmly on the bed so he can start thrusting up. He did try to entertain the idea of giving you control at least for one night, he really did, but fuck - how could he, when you looked so divine above him?

The new angle allowed for his cock to hit straight into that one sensitive spot inside you and you suddenly lost balance, collapsing on top of his chest as his hand moved toward the back of your head, keeping you down so he can hit that same spot over and over again.

"Sas-ah!" you whined, your nails digging into his hard chest, leaving angry red marks after themselves. Sasuke could only smirk, his heavy breath tickling the side of your face as he picked up the pace.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his hand yanking your head back by your hear so he can inspect your face, "Did you get tired already?"

Opening your eyes, you let out a few tears fall freely down your cheeks as you glared down at him. The mix of pleasure and pain was clouding your mind and you could do nothing but moan helplessly as he roughly fucked you, completely disregarding the sensual and gentle tone you tried to settle earlier.

As you started clenching around him, the first sign that you were approaching yet another orgasm, Sasuke swiftly turned you around, laying you under him as he hovered over you, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance, yet not entering fully.

"Sasuke," you whined, trying to move yourself down so he can fill the burning emptiness inside of you, "C'mon, don't stop now!"

Sasuke only smirked at your words before grabbing his cock, sliding it up and down your pussy lips, before flicking your aching clit with his head. You let out a small moan, the oversensitivity causing your cunt to clench around nothing.

"Beg for it."

No amount of pleasure could cloud your mind enough for such words to slip by without your eyes immediately widening. Was he serious? As you watched him looking at you with that small annoying smile on his lips, you tried your best to avoid the aching need between your legs as you snorted loudly in response.

"I rather die needy and unsatisfied," you huffed, your brows furrowing as a small crease appeared in the middle of your sweaty forehead, "Than to beg my douchebag ex-husband to fuck me."

Your words seemed to humour him as he pushed the tip in, earning a small gasp from you before withdrawing again, his hand slowly pumping his cock as he watched you wriggling beneath him.

"What happened to "I am not going to hurt you"?" he tilted his head to the side, "I thought that included insults and your usual low blows as well."

You rolled your eyes, frustration mixing with annoyance as he continued to stroke himself in front of you, completely ignoring the fact you were dripping with need to be touched by him.

"Since when you are such a rambler?" you snapped, a loud huff escaping your lips as you started to lift yourself on your elbows, "If I knew you would waste my night like this, I would've just spend it with my date inste-"

Your sentence was cut off short as he suddenly wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing you back into the pillow as he entered you with one move. He was not gentle or careful - his dick slid all the way in, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he dug his nails into your neck.

"Shut up!" he hissed, as his pace increased even more from before. Your legs dangled weakly around his hips, as you shut your eyes, the all familiar knot starting to form inside of your stomach once again. His pace was brutal, almost animalistic, as the headboard of the bed was hitting against the wall with a rhythmic thump! thump! thump!.

"You always have to open your big mouth, don't you?" he panted, his abs clenching as he adjusted his hips forward, practically folding your body under his weight, "I'm sick of your little games, I'm sick of your attitude... fuck, I'm so sick of you!"

Instead of taking insult, your jaw dopped in a silent scream as your back arched in pleasure. You could feel your orgasm coming closer and closer, as Sasuke was squishing your under his body, his pelvis rubbing against your pulsating clit. You could feel his pace becoming more erratic as he chased his own pleasure, his fingers still tightly wrapped around your throat.

"You are going to marry me again," he panted against your mouth as he pressed his forehead against yours, "And this time I won't let you go... Ever. Again."

Just like the first "proposal", this was more of a declaration rather than a question. And just like the last time you found yourself unable to defy him, as his words combined with the way you could feel each inch of him rubbing against your tight walls, was enough to send you over the edge.

A loud moan escaped your lips as your pussy leaked cum around his cock, forming a white circle at the base. His hips stuttered as he felt you clamp around him, ropes of thick cum filling your tight pussy till it started to overflow with his seed. He thrusted once, twice, making sure he had emptied fully inside of you before he collapsed on top of you, his face burying where your shoulder and neck meet.

You let out a sigh, your hands instinctively wrapping around him as you ran your fingers through his black hair. Slowly, his breath became steadier and his heart rate slower as both of you let the reality of what you just did settle. His last words rang in your head, as your eyes remained focused on the ceiling above you.

"It would never end, would it?" you whispered in a hushed tone, almost as if you were hesitant to break the silence between you two. Sasuke stilled, his head moving to the side so he can give you a questioning glance.

"This cycle that we are in... This constant push and pull, the hurt, the twisted love that we have for each other. "

You could feel his body tense at your last words, as he let them sink. Slowly, his hand let go of your throat, before he gently brushed a few hairs away from your sweaty forehead. His gaze softened as he adjusted his position so he can study your face, his eyes trailing down the messy streaks of makeup down your cheeks.

"No," he finally murmured, his voice quieter than usual, "Maybe it's not meant to end. Maybe that's just who we are."

"What? Broken?", you laughed dryly, turning your head to the side so your eyes meet. Sasuke's expression remained blank, as his hand moved down so he can take yours in his. He didn't answer but the way his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened were enough of confirmation. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but this is exactly who you were - two broken people who never learned to give or receive anything else other than raw and painful love.

"I do love you," he suddenly said, breaking the short silence that has settled between you, "But I only know one way to."

His confession hung between you as an open wound that both of you tried to cover for too long, causing a mix of relief and heartache to swirl inside your chest. His fingers brushed against your ring finger, where your wedding band once was, and you closed your eyes, silently accepting that no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were always pulled back.

Letting go of his hair, you reached toward the bedside cabinet before you pulled first drawer open, and you got a small velvet box out. Inside, your polished wedding band shined brightly, reflecting the moonlight as you pulled it out and slid it back on your finger. Sasuke's eyes carefully followed your movements, before he took your hand in his once again, his head falling against your chest as he inhaled your scent.

You had made many mistakes in your life. Ironically, the biggest one was not him.

Instead, it was the illusion that you could escape from him, or from what you had. You couldn't. And the truth is, deep inside, you didn't want to.

cc artwork: pinterest <3

[llamagoddessofficial]

I don’t know if you’ve got this already but what about MC being the boss of the mafia Bad Sanses?

Villainous devotion is the only love I want

With you in charge, Dust is a different beast entirely. You might recall from the previous mafia posts that Dust doesn't want to be under Nightmare's command, so he does precisely what's required of him, nothing more and nothing less. Well... now, he's got a reason to remain. The one calling the shots is someone he loves and admires. He's not just your confidant and secret keeper, he's your secret weapon, the one you send when the job is so important you need to guarantee success. When you want a whole room of 'problems' dispatched so quickly and so silently no one even notices they're dead for several hours. Some say love and LOVE don't mix, but... Dust disagrees.

Horror is definitely not as clean as Dust, let's say that. And he requires a little more affection. But sometimes, unclean is exactly what you want, sometimes a message needs to be loud and clear, and what could be clearer than blood? There's no one he can't find for you, no scent he can't follow back to the source. Dust is precise but Horror is sudden and unstoppable, he strikes a real, tangible fear into everyone. He's a force of nature and he's perfect if you need the world to know you aren't to be trifled with. When he's not ripping people into pieces for you, he's baking! He loves providing for the people he cares for. And when he's visiting Crooks, you're always free to join him and his brother for dinner.

If mindless devotion were a person, it would look like Killer. The others go out and cause scenes, but he stays in and causes scenes, staying close by and warding away any embarrassments that besmirch the good title of 'assassin'. If you want him to go stretch his legs and kill someone, he'll do so happily, but his favourite place is wherever you are. He often seems unaware and silly and borderline clumsy... but it's a front. If anyone thinks they've snuck up on either of you, they are gravely (hah) mistaken. His dark sockets make it impossible to tell where he's looking, and he'll have spotted someone long before they make a move. He's heard many insults - people frequently call him your lap dog. It only bugs him because he's a cat person.

You'd think Nightmare wouldn't do well in the number two position. Considering his history and family feud. But it was never the act of being 'second' that irked him so much - it was feeling invisible, unappreciated, unrecognised. You very much make him feel appreciated. He's your right hand, and he's a damn powerful one, his iron fist solves any issues you may have with not being respected as a small human in an underworld of monsters. He's had proverbial skin in this game far longer than you have, his resources and knowledge are vast, you greatly value his advice and insight. People often mistake him for the boss... he takes great pleasure in correcting them. no, that would be my beloved. He can be the moon to your sun. That suits him just fine.

[mynicosensesaretingling]

When the Snow Falls

a Lando Norris x reader story

Request: Can you write me Christmas market date with Lando including first kiss? 🙏🏼Childhood friends to lovers, I always got dragged to karting racing by my dad and that's how we know each other.

Warnings: none , written in my notes app

Note: I guess I am officially kicking off the christmas season with this one. It’s my first time writing for Lando but I most certainly hope you enjoy it <3

——

The year was slowly but surely coming to an end, with Christmas just around the corner you found yourself on your way to your first Christmas market visit of the season. For as long as you could remember, Christmas markets had always been your favorite part of the holidays, and this year, it felt even more special—because you were going with Lando.

You’d known Lando Norris practically forever. Your dad had dragged you along to karting races when you were both kids, and you’d quickly bonded over the long hours at the track. Back then, you didn’t care much for racing, but you did like hanging out with him. Already as a child, Lando had managed to make everything fun—whether he was sneaking you snacks from the paddock or teasing you about how bored you looked while your dad obsessively watched the races.

Even years later, when Lando’s career took off and he became a Formula 1 driver, things between you didn’t change. Sure, he got more famous, busier, and a lot harder to keep up with, but whenever you saw him, it was like nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing.

Lately, things had been… different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something between you had shifted. There were moments now where he looked at you just a little too long, where his jokes seemed to hold a new kind of meaning or where his hand lingered on your shoulder, sending chills up your spine. You’d always been close, but lately, you found yourself thinking about him in a way that friends shouldn’t—like the way his smile would make your heart swell with joy or how the sound of his voice made your chest tighten just a little.

And now here you were, approaching the Christmas market bundled up in your favourite scarf and a thick coat, with snow lightly falling around you. Letting your eyes wander over the scene in front of you, you could easily tell that the market was packed, the sound of music was mixing with the lively chatter of the people, various colourful lights were twinkling overhead and the winter breeze carried the smell of seasonal treats and mulled wine. The whole place looked like something out of a Christmas movie.

You spotted Lando waiting for you near the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, his breath fogging in the cold air and snow flakes adorning his wild curls. When his searching gaze found you, his face lit up with a grin that sent warmth all the way to your toes—despite the freezing weather.

“About time!” Lando called out with a teasing smile. “I was starting to think you ditched me for someone more fun.”

“Like who?” you shot back, chuckling as you walked up to him. “I’m only here for the free hot chocolate.”

“Harsh,” he said with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “But understandable.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. That was the thing about Lando—he made everything easy. With him, you didn’t have to try too hard to be funny or smart or interesting. He just got you. Always had.

Lando bumped his shoulder lightly against yours, a playful spark in his eyes. “Come on then, let's see what else we can find to complain about.” he teased. But his words held a warmth that wrapped around you like the winter chill never could. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the market—it was his way of reminding you how comfortable everything felt when it was the two of you.

As you linked arms and wandered into the market, the festive lights twinkling overhead, you felt that familiar feeling of comfort settle over you, the kind that only ever seemed to come when you were with Lando. Despite everything—the years, the fame, the distance—it still felt like it was just the two of you against the world, like it had always been.

“So,” Lando said as you passed a stall selling Christmas ornaments, his breath visible in the cold air. “You still remember how much you hated coming to the karting track back in the day?”

You laughed, gently shaking your head at the unexpected throwback. “I didn’t *hate* it. I just wasn’t obsessed with it like you were.”

“Liar,” Lando teased, nudging you playfully. “You looked absolutely miserable every time I saw you.”

“Yeah, because my dad was way more invested than I was,” you shot back with a grin. “But you made it bearable. I could always count on you offering me an escape from the racing madness.”

He smiled softly at that, and for a second, the teasing glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by something else—something that made your heart skip a beat. “Well, you were mine too, you know. It wasn’t all about the karting.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, the bustling market seemed to fade around you. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Lando pointed toward a stall up ahead. “Come on, let’s get you that hot chocolate you came here for in the first place.”

You followed him through the crowd, the energy of the market buzzing around you, but your thoughts kept circling back to that look in his eyes. There had been something different about it—something that made the air feel just a little heavier between you.

Whilst you had been lost in thought Lando had bought two steaming cups of hot chocolate and you only found yourself snapping back to reality when the driver carefully handed one to you. “Here. This should keep you from freezing to death.”

You took it gratefully, cradling it between both of your hands, a satisfied hum leaving your lips when you felt the warmth seeping through your skin . “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Lando said with a cocky grin, but there was a softness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

As the two of you wandered deeper into the market, sipping your hot chocolate and chatting about everything and nothing, the playful banter flowed naturally. It always did with Lando. But even between all the sarcastic comments and dry jokes you could feel something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been building for months.

The festive stalls blurred together as you walked, but then something caught your eye. You stopped in front of a small wooden stall, the soft green of mistletoe sprigs hanging from the awning, each tied with delicate red ribbons. You stared at them for a moment longer than you meant to, your stomach doing a little flip as the realization of what mistletoe symbolized hit you.

“You know what they say about mistletoe…” Lando said, his voice suddenly becoming a little quieter, a little softer. He was standing close—closer than usual—and when you looked up, his eyes were fixed on you, not the mistletoe.

Your breath caught, heart racing as you noticed the change in the air between you. Trying to steady yourself, you gave a small smile and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what exactly do they say?”

He took a moment to reply, his gaze still locked on yours. “Apparently, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The noise of the market, the lights, the people—it all faded into the background. It was just you and Lando, standing there in the middle of the market, the snow falling softly around you.

Your senses where overwhelmed with how close he was now—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, could see the soft, nervous flicker in his eyes. For a split second, you thought about backing away, about brushing it off with a joke like you always did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped forward, almost closing the space between you. “I guess we should follow tradition then,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the market.

Lando’s eyes flickered to your lips, the desire in his eyes as clear as day before all of sudden his lips found yours. It was soft and tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer as the years of secret longing were finally revealed in his every touch.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, Lando was smiling that familiar smile, the one that never failed to make your heart race. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” he admitted, his voice low and a little nervous.

You smiled back, your heart still hammering loudly in your chest. “Me too.”

Lando let out a breath of relief, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d never work up the nerve.”

His confession coaxed a soft laugh from your lips, your hands resting on his chest. “You, nervous? That’s a first.”

“Only with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper and eyes holding his heart. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before readjusting and pulling you into a warm embrace. “I guess we’re not just childhood friends anymore, huh?”

“Guess not,” you whispered back, not trusting your voice as a feeling of warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate or the twinkling lights above.

And as the snow continued to fall gently around you, you remained in Lando’s embrace, your head resting against his chest as you found comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Your eyes followed the sparkling snowflakes and the world around you seemed to slow. With his arms wrapped securely around you, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, like all the chaos and uncertainty that had been swirling in your life had finally come to a halt. You couldn’t help but contently hum as you felt like everything was finally falling into place. The way you fit against him, the warmth you shared despite the cold, and the quiet peace between you told you everything you needed to know.

[littlefankingdom]

One of the thing I hate the most about the batfam fanon is the very popular belief that Crime Alley is Red Hood's territory only and that they love him more than Batman, or even hate Batman.

And sure, you are free to have headcanons, but when those diminish other characters so you can uplift your blorbo, or disregard other characters' morals so your blorbo is loved by everyone, it's an issue.

First, do you realize for how long Batman has been operating in Gotham and Crime Alley? He has been there for Crime Alley's folks for so long! There's this great episode of Batman: The Animated Series where Batman protects and saves Crime Alley folks when a business tycoon is set on destroying their homes. He is also shown to go visit Leslie Thompson as Batman, and helps her as Batman. ("Appointment in Crime Alley" is the episode, GO WATCH IT) In the comics, it is redundant that Bruce spend each anniversary of his parents' murder in Crime Alley as Batman. That's literally how he got Jason. He doesn't just beat up criminals, he shows up to protect the people there, from the elite just as much as common criminals. Bruce, as Batman, has been seen by Crime Alley folks helping Leslie multiple time and listening to her. In No Man's Land, the poorest population of Gotham cannot leave, and who shows up to help and protect them? BATMAN (with Huntress and Batgirl, the boys are out of town) He is the one to save them, to bring them food and medecine, to take them to Leslie. He is not letting a single one of them die and suffer more. And you're telling me people in Crime Alley don't like Batman???

Secondly, people don't feel safe around cops because they kill people who have committed crimes or are criminals in their eyes. The thing about cops is that, the system should held them accountable for that, because they work for the government. Red Hood is doing the same shit, but he cannot be held accountable. This is literally one of the canon reasons Batman cannot kill. How the fuck can you think people, especially minorities and poor folks who are the most targeted by police violence, feel safe with a man using the same logic as violent cops but with no authority to stop him. "He only kills REALLY bad people" this is totally not canon, but also, how to people know that? How do you knows that who he sees as really bad people is the same as you and you are safe? Like, racists think black people and arabs are bad people, for example. They have no reason to trust Red Hood, he is just another crime lord doing the same crime lord shit of being like "I'll protect you as long as you are following my rule and paying me money, or else you'll die". Y'all love to call Bruce naïve for believing in the human rights and rehabilitation (Norway is literally doing that shit rn and they are doing so well), but you are naïve if you think everyone in Crime Alley love Red Hood and trust him.

Side note: Bruce is the one financially supporting Leslie's clinic. She has way stricter morals than Bruce (for example, if Bruce killed someone, she would call the cops on him to send him to jail. Bruce wouldn't call the cops on Jason) She would NOT accept Jason's crime money, and she doesn't need it with Bruce backing her. She probably doesn't like Red Hood at all, because he is violent and kills, and if some Crime Alley folks give a fuck about what Leslie thinks, they would also not like him.

[girlkisser13]

being married to spencer reid would include

• spencer is very gentle with you, not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because he loves you so much and couldn’t bear to hurt you in any way.

• the two of you have a designated "no serial killer talk" time.

• your home is filled with shelves upon shelves of books, with new ones constantly being added. spencer likes to surprise you with rare editions or books he thinks you’d love.

• spencer isn’t the most outwardly expressive, but he shows his love through small, thoughtful gestures. he leaves notes in your favorite books and brew your coffee exactly how you like it before you wake up.

• due to his work, spencer can be a bit overprotective. he’d worry about your safety but would do his best not to let it interfere with your happiness.

• spencer would cherish the quiet moments you spend together, whether it’s reading side by side, watching classic films, or simply enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

• the two of you have annual matching halloween costumes that somehow get exponentially better each year.

• though he’s often serious, spencer has a sharp wit and a subtle sense of humor that would come out more often around you, making you laugh when you least expect it.

• spencer is incredibly caring and would always make sure you feel loved and appreciated. he’d be attuned to your emotions and would do his best to make you feel better when you’re down.

• he overcame his hatred for driving for you but only because you got drunk with jj, emily, and penelope and needed a ride home.

• date nights with spencer range from museum visits and bookshop crawls to stargazing or attending a lecture on a topic you’re both curious about. he’d love to create unique experiences that align with both your interests.

• SOO many coffee dates.

• though he might not be overly demonstrative in public, in private, spencer is incredibly affectionate. he’d hold your hand while reading, leave gentle kisses on your forehead, and give you reassuring hugs after a long day.

• he calls you before each flight to let you know where he’s headed for a case or to tell you when he’s finally coming home. although he usually doesn’t have time to call when he lands because he has to hit the ground running with the case, he always makes sure to send you a text to let you know they landed safely.

• he bought you a stuffed animal to cuddle with when he’s gone. he was nervous about giving it to you and had an entire speech prepared, explaining how they could be beneficial in many cases.

• spencer likes to leave sweet, thoughtful notes for you around the house, often filled with his favorite quotes, little reminders of his love, or even just a simple "have a great day" message in the morning.

• your relationship is built on a mutual love of learning. whether it’s sharing articles, watching documentaries, or attending seminars, you’d constantly be expanding your horizons together.

• spencer LOVES cuddling with you. he finds a lot comfort in your presence. he’d often pull you close while reading or watching tv, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to you.

• in some ways, being in love with you scares him because he’s never felt this way before. but in other ways, it excites him because he now has someone to share himself with, judgment-free, and a partner to experience life’s highs and lows with.

• this man knows you better than any subject he’s ever studied. <33

[zeppelinlvr]

Kiss Your Eyes Again

Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you and Sam head home from the bar before dean, the two of you get ready for bed but you find yourself wishing you had gotten a room for just the two of you.

Notes: Like half of this got deleted and I had to rewrite it and I almost cried. Also, the fic literally has nothing to do with the song Anything by Adrianne Lenker I was just listening to the Songs album while writing this. I want to thank all of you for the continuous support, I appreciate it so much. Also feel free to send in requests because I'm running out of ideas 💔

Warnings: Cursing, this gets frisky but there's no actual smut, making out, fluff.

w.c 1.4k

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You placed two beers for Dean and Sam down and a seltzer for yourself, on the small table at the bar. Sam, Dean and you were in the middle of a case, Dean and Sam had done interviews with victims and visited the morgue while you looked at autopsy reports, symbols they had found, and the contents of the hex bags they had discovered. You knew the three of you were dealing with a powerful witch as the spells you found being used were from around the 15th century.

“This witch is hardcore, her end goal looks like she wants to be possessed by or summon a demon, we need to get to her before she can even attempt to do that” You told the two as you sat down.

“Why the hell would someone want to be possessed by a demon?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“No clue” you shrugged “Some witches have sex with demons too, they use it as a way to seal the pact they made with the demon”

Dean scrunched his face “I’m glad you're smart but you don't have to share everything you know”

Sam was watching you with interest in what you were saying “so we’re not just dealing with some everyday pagan?”

“Nope, this bitch is crazy” you told him with a giggle.

Sam gave you a soft smile, the two of you had been dating for a while but he always looked at you like it was the first time he’s seeing you, his eyes wide, taking in how beautiful you are.

The conversation carried on, the two boys sharing about the people they had met and how a few seemed off their rocker.

You finished your drink then said to the two “I’m tired, I’m gonna head back” You gave Sam a look, wanting him to join you, not only because you didn't want to walk in the dark but you missed the two of you being alone together and you were hoping to get some time with just him.

“I’ll go back with you, I’m tired too” Sam responded.

“Don't be gettin’ your freak on you two, I’m not gonna be out all night, I’ll have a couple more and head back” Dean told both of you, a smile on his face at your reaction of embarrassment.

“He’ll be done before you even finish your next drink” you joked, earning a laugh from Dean and Sam quick to defend himself with statements about how it wasn't true.

You and Sam headed out of the bar, the motel was only about a 5-minute walk away. You gave a dramatic shiver in hopes to get his jacket.

“Sammy, I’m so cold” you giggled and rubbed your arms dramatically

“You don't deserve my jacket after that comment” he replied, rolling his eyes as he shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders.

“We both know it isn't true and that's all that matters” you told him, putting your arms through the sleeves and cuddling into it, his smell engulfing you.

Sam laughed and brought his arm around your shoulder, his larger frame completely overshadowing you. You brought your arm around his waist and began to gently scratch his back. He placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not really tired, I just wanted some alone time with you” you admitted “I love Dean but I want to be alone with you sometimes”

“I know baby” he told you “how about we get ready for bed then we can cuddle and watch some desperate housewives”

You smiled at the mention of the cheesy show the two of you had gotten invested in, it started off as a background show that you’d turn on when you waited for the boys to come back to the motel, or when you and Sam were trying to fall asleep, but you quickly became invested and so did Sam.

“That sounds perfect” you told him

The two of you had returned to the motel, Sam unlocked the door and you made your way over to your duffle bag, changing into your pajamas, Sam did the same. You made your way to the bathroom Sam close behind, you brushed your teeth at the same time as him, unable to hold back your giggles at the toothpaste that dripped down his chin and how aggressively he brushed his teeth.

You washed your face and he watched you closely, eyeing the products you put on your face.

“Why do you have so many potions for your face?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

“Sam, its three things, and it's so my face doesn't break out and get greasy” You explained

He was nothing short of intrigued by your explanation “But why is your face wash called la roach pussy?” he asked, reading the bottle

“Its probably french or something” you shrugged “I don't know how to actually say the name”

When both of you were ready for bed, you turned on the current episode of desperate housewives that you were on.

You snuggled into Sam, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you leaned into his shoulder. Both of you attempting to cuddle while still being able to see the show.

Sam placed a kiss on the top of your head “I’m sorry we don't get a lot of alone time, I wish I could give you a white picket fence life, but I think we both know that's out of the question by now”

“Sammy don't apologize, and I’m okay with not having a Stepford Wives style of living” you paused “It’s more interesting to research monsters and see you come back sweaty and covered in dirt, its hot” you giggled and poked his chest, he shook his head in response, but a small laugh escaped.

“Sam, I really do love you and I wouldn't trade the life we have for anything, I like knowing we helped people at the end of the day” you added earnestly.

A smile played on his face as he brought you in for a kiss. It was slow and loving, he brought a hand to hold the back of your head, gently toying with your hair. You scratched and rubbed his shoulder, your other hand on his neck playing with the tufts of hair.

The kiss became heated when Sam picked you up and set you on his lap, doing it with such ease it felt as if you weighed nothing. He worked kisses along your collarbone, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sensation. He placed a few kisses on your shoulder before pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare chest, running his hands along your sides a few times, tracing your figure, before grabbing one of your breasts with his large hands, he began to gently toy with your nipple. Your incoherent encouragement and praises followed, you were unable to speak properly, it had been a while since you had been able to be so intimate with Sam.

“I know baby, it's okay” he said in response to your babbling.

You ground down onto his lap, earning a groan from him, you had your hand around the back of his neck tugging on his hair more desperately now, your other hand holding on to his large arm. You felt his growing erection against your core, your arousal pooling at the overwhelming sensations you were experiencing.

Sam brought his lips to yours again, his chest heaving as he harshly breathed while kissing you. His hand on the back of your head pushed you into him, holding you close. You continued to grind down onto his lap, Sam swallowing your soft moans and letting out groans and soft whines of pleasure.

As Sam was beginning to pull off your pants you heard a knock at the door. You sighed, not wanting this moment to be cut short. You threw your shirt on quickly and climbed out of Sam’s lap, giving him a sweet kiss.

“Are you two decent” Dean yelled through the door

Sam was uncomfortably shifting around, pulling the blanket over his lap.

“Yep, just watching tv” You yelled back

You heard the door unlock and Dean entered the room, laughing at Sam’s messy hair and your disheveled shirt, he chose to keep his comments to himself and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Sam pulled you into him, his chest flush against your back, he wrapped his arms around you, and you snuggled into him. You could tell he was still aroused, his erection poking you. You giggled at his issue, and he sighed but also laughed.

“We’ll get our own room next time” he told you and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

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[sweetdispatch]

His special day - J. Hughes

Purple Chemistry | Previous Chapter timeline: April 2024 - May 2024 summary: Jack finally realised how much you mean to him after showing up in a hospital warning: mentions of injury note: last chapter has arrived!

For the next few weeks, the tension was visible between you two. Just like a kiss showed you that you’re more than friends with Jack. You tried to act normal around him but you couldn’t. Your feelings were going crazy while you were around him. Jack was lost in this situation. The kiss you shared was full of emotions and he didn’t know what to think.

Jack started to see you as a future girlfriend but he wasn’t sure if he’s ready for commitment. You two had different lives and opinions and he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic you two share. He was wondering if it would be bad to stay as friends. He didn’t want to take the risk of losing you because your relationship hadn’t worked out. 

The last game of the season between New York Rangers and New Jersey Devils ended up 4:3 which means that Rangers beat Devils in all four games this season. This match was way tougher than the previous ones. Jersey was leading 3:2 before the third period. In the last part of the game, they lost 2 goals and Rangers were celebrating. 

You knew that Jack would be bitter about the result. Last time he was sad over their 3:1 loss and now, he’s either gonna be heartbroken or mad as hell. You were at this game but this time, he didn’t ask you if he could come home with you. You thought that he had to be back with the team in New Jersey and decided not to push him to see you. 

The truth was that Jack was struggling with his shoulder and that’s why he didn’t come to see you after the game. He hadn’t told you anything about it because he didn’t want to bother you. He kept this as quiet as possible. Couple days later, he played his last game of the season before he required surgery on his shoulder. 

You found out about this from social media. You were scrolling your twitter when you saw a Devils post that Jack is out for the rest of the season because he needed a surgery. Your phone fell from your hand when you read it. You froze in spot. You were scared of him and his health. When you came back to your senses, you called Luke to ask him about it. 

“Hi, I know I never call you but I need to know what’s happening with Jack. I read that he needed surgery” You were rambling.

“Y/N calm down. Everything is fine. He needs surgery on his shoulder but he’s gonna be alright. He’s at home with parents to take care of him. Nothing to worry about” 

“Wait, he’s in Michigan? He hadn’t told me anything” You sighed.

“Yes, he’s in Michigan and he didn’t say a word to you because he knew you’re gonna be panicking. I told him it’s a bad idea to keep it from you but that was his choice” 

“Can I visit him?” You asked.

“I guess. I can call my mom and get the information in which hospital he is and send them to you” 

“Please do, I owe you” Luke laughed at your words.

Before Luke messaged you with the information, you went to ask your boss if you can have a free week due to personal reasons. He agreed on that and you ran into your apartment to pack your suitcase and booked a plane ticket to go and see Jack. While doing this, Luke sent you all the information you needed. 

The next day you had a plane. You were scared of Jack’ reaction when he saw you. You felt bad that you're doing this behind his back but this was to calm your nerves and make sure that he’s alright. When you landed, you took a taxi and went straight into the hospital. You didn’t care about the luggage you had with you. All you wanted was to see him.

From Luke, you found out that Jack had his surgery yesterday so he was resting in a hospital room. You stood up in front of the door and knocked. You didn’t want to interrupt him while he’s sleeping or someone else is in the room.

“Mom you don’t need to knock, I’m not 5” You heard and took it as a yes. Slowly you opened the door and Jack froze when he saw you. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I took a free week to check on you. I read that you had an operation and I was scared of you and I just needed to see you” Tears spilled from your eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine” He tried to calm you down. “Come, sit next to me” You saw a chair and sat while wiping away your tears. “You seriously took a free week just to see me? How did you even know where I am?”

“I talked with Luke and he told me everything since you were dead silent after the game” 

“Sorry for that, I just didn’t want to bother you” He shrugged but while doing this he hissed in pain.

“Don’t use your shoulder. You’ll make it worse” You grabbed his healthy hand and started caressing it. “You should tell me, I was thinking that you’re mad at me because Rangers won” You tried to lighten the mood. This time it worked because he laughed. 

“No, I was mad after the game but I could never be mad at you” He smiled at you. 

You spent the next two days next to him in the hospital. You didn’t want to leave him alone while his parents couldn't be there. You were only leaving Jack to go and get sleep in a hotel but even in this situation, he had to push you off the room because you wanted to stay. You saw that he’s in pain and can’t use his left arm, that’s why you wanted to be there for him. 

Jack finally could go back to his house and you were delighted hearing that. He was feeling less pain and you could get proper sleep knowing that he’s alright. You were hanging out with him in your last free days and helped his parents with everything in the house. His mum was smiling at the sign of you two but she didn’t know that you’re just friends. 

After a week, you returned to New York but still, you were checking on him every day calling him after work and asking how he’s feeling. It became tradition between the two of you to have a conversation each evening. Jack was thankful to have you by his side and he realised that all the time he had feelings for you.

You were always there for him, no matter what. Jack stopped caring about the fact that you might hate his team but he was sure that you love him. When you took off the week to be with him, he knew that he had to ask you to be his girlfriend. He didn’t care anymore that this might ruin your dynamic if things won’t turn the way he wants but he was willing to take the risk.

On his birthday in May, you flew for the weekend to celebrate with Jack his special day. He knew that you’re coming and he was prepared to ask you the question. That was the birthday gift he wanted from you. You meet his older brother Quinn and thank Luke for help. Four of you had fun this whole day on the boat. Seeing you getting along with his brothers was confirmation that he had to make you his. 

When you stepped out of the boat, Quinn and Luke went inside. You wanted to follow them but Jack stopped you. You faced him and looked into his eyes. He smiled. 

“Thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me for the past month. Actually thank you for everything. Thank you for being by my side in good and bad times. We might had arguments earlier but I know that you’re my person Y/N” 

“It’s so nice that you see me in this light. Anything for friends right?” You joked but his face fell when he heard the word friends.

“About that” He took a deep breath. ”You’re much more for me than just a friend. It took me long enough to realise but I have strong feelings for you and I want you as my girlfriend” He grabbed your hand and you didn’t know what to say. You stood like that for a minute. 

“You don’t have a clue how long I wanted to hear those words” You chuckled. “I would love to be your girlfriend” You answered and he smiled widely at you. 

Jack placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you into a kiss. First kiss as a couple. No more kisses as friends, enemies, situationship. From now on, kisses as a relationship full of love.

[tibby-art]

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”

[endereies]

KAY'S NO NUT NOVEMBER!

༊*·˚ Hey angels, No Nut November has officially begun. Similarly to October, I'm going to be writing little blurbs daily. These, however, won't have any smut. I feel that sometimes smut can take over this fandom at times so I am joining in with this months event! These are likely to be small blurbs since I will be attempting to post these daily. If anyone gets inspired by these blurbs, feel free to use the ideas, with credit of course. Feel free to send in cutesy or angsty requests too! I'm open to fucking anything. If you want me to continue a certain blurb or extend it just let me know!

NOVEMBER 1ST - Book Club -➤ You and Matt waltz around a local book shop, but Matt isn't looking at the books

NOVEMBER 2ND - Miss You -➤ Even after a break-up, thoughts of you play on Chris' mind

NOVEMBER 3RD - Just Need You -➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort

NOVEMBER 4TH - Ice Bound -➤ When you treat Matt to a day of skating, he ends up teaching you the ropes

NOVEMBER 5TH - Thought you were mine -➤ When Chris was finally ready for a relationship with you, it was too late

NOVEMBER 6TH - Soaked Through -➤ Matt finds you outside, watching the rain and he decides to have fun with you

NOVEMBER 7TH - Feel Better Yet? -➤ When you are on your period, Matt is always there to look after you

NOVEMBER 8TH - Birthday Wishes -➤ You may have forgotten your birthday, but Chris didn't

NOVEMBER 9TH - Movie Night -➤ You and Chris relaxing and watching a film together

NOVEMBER 10TH - Freedom Of Speech -➤ When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels

NOVEMBER 11TH - Falling For You -➤ When you and Chris go on a hike, you manage to injure yourself slightly

NOVEMBER 12TH - Freedom Of Speech - Part 2 -➤ When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels which results in you to do the same

NOVEMBER 13TH - Nail Polish -➤ You come home to see your daughter painting Matt's nails

NOVEMBER 14TH - Patch Up -➤ Chris comes home after a bad deal and you take care of him

NOVEMBER 15TH - Jersey -➤ You show up at Matt's hockey game wearing his jersey

NOVEMBER 16TH - Break Up Drug -➤ Matt has to choose between his income and 'family' or the love of his life

NOVEMBER 17TH - You're My Prize -➤ Matt brings you to the carnival and wins just for you

NOVEMBER 18TH - Decorative Love -➤ You and Matt decorate each other as cookies

NOVEMBER 19TH - Hair tie -➤ Matt learns how to braid his daughters hair

NOVEMBER 20TH - Study Session -➤ Chris helps you take your mind away from studies

NOVEMBER 21ST - Snowball Fight -➤ You and Matt mess about in the snow

NOVEMBER 22ND - Take A Sick Day -➤ Chris looks after you when you are sick

NOVEMBER 23RD - Break Up Drug - Part 2 -➤ When you stay over at the triplet's house, you confront Matt

NOVEMBER 24TH - A Touch I Can Trust -➤ A painting brings some old memories to light when you and Matt visit the museum (sexual assault mentions - tw)

NOVEMBER 25TH - Hard To Get -➤ After months of playing Chris, he had enough

NOVEMBER 26TH - Pick your Poison -➤ After Chris stood you up again, you went to Matt which led to some unexpected results

NOVEMBER 27TH - Burnt Skin -➤ You spend ages hiding your intimacy issues from Chris but he gets you to open up

NOVEMBER 28TH - Long Range -➤ You say goodbye to Matt at the airport when he has to leave Boston

NOVEMBER 29TH - Mixed Messages -➤ After Chris has been messenger between you and Matt, he locks you two in a room together

NOVEMBER 30TH - Merch Drop -➤ You and Chris decide to announce your relationship through a merch drop

[kairoot]

𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔, 𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗘. ──── 𝐍𝐑𝐊.

after your only childhood best friend leaves to visit his family in Japan, you decide to write one hundred— yes, one hundred letters to him, each one explaining your feelings for him in intricate detail. you send them off just before Christmas arrives so he can receive them the same day he’s opening presents. the only wish that you have for this holiday is that he feels the same way..

☕️ .. pairing: 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽！𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂 𝗑 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

☕️ .. includes: 𝖾𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾 （𝗅𝗌𝗋𝖿𝗆），𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇 （𝗇𝗐𝗃𝗇𝗌） ☕️ .. genre: 𝑓𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿，𝑓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

☕️ 𝒘arnings: 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁，𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒．

💌 ──── i feel like this was kinda rushed but i wanted to give you guys something for the holidays. :)

“i’ll be back before you know it,” riki had said to you before he boarded his plane. he hugged you tightly, slightly rocking you side to side before planting a kiss on your head.

you weren’t dating, but he’d always given you a very friendly kiss on your head since you were little kids.

“yeah, but time will still go by so slow..” you said, your arms tightening around him, not wanting him to leave your side. riki chuckled, patting your head and trying to wriggle free from your tight grip.

“y/n, let’s go before i leave you to go to japan with him!” your friend, haerin yelled from her car. you sighed before letting him go, looking up with a frown on your face.

“alright, let me go before haerin bites our heads off,” riki laughed, unraveling your arms from around him. you felt your heart sank as he picked up his luggage and said goodbye to you. you watched him turn to leave and get on the plane while he still smiled at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

you took one last look at the aircraft before leaving to get back into haerin’s car.

you climbed into the backseat, looking out the window as haerin pulled out of the airport’s parking lot.

the beginning of the ride was silent before eunchae turned to face you from the passenger seat, giving you a sad smile.

“did you at least tell him?” she asked.

you shook your head, ”i couldn’t tell him right before he left, chae.”

she hummed in response before turning back around in her seat.

but that was two days ago.

it obviously hadn’t been long since riki left but you were starting to feel lonely even with him gone for that long. he’d texted you a few times in between the 2-day gap, but you couldn’t talk to him much since he was with his family.

haerin and eunchae tried taking you out for a bit to get your mind off of him but you just couldn’t. it’s not like he moved back to japan but there was one thing in particular that was bothering you.

you loved riki. with all of your heart, and your friends knew that.

everyday that you were with him, they encouraged you to tell him but you just couldn’t. it wasn’t something you could say in front of him which is also why you don’t say anything before he left for japan.

but being away from him only hurt you so much because he was so far away. what if he meets someone new? what if he rekindles an old relationship?

these are all things that went through your mind before and after he left.

“n/n, are you gonna finish that paper? you’ve been staring at it for the past 5 minutes.” haerin commented, giggling at your dazed expression.

“what? oh. yeah, sorry.”

you sat on your bed with papers spread out everywhere as you worked on your last assignment before winter break. eunchae and haerin had decided to come over and join you to study.

“so.. we were thinking,” eunchae began, looking at haerin, and then you.

“since tomorrow’s our last day, maybe we could hit the skating rink with ryo and chan? you know, just do you can have a little fun while your buddy’s gone.”

“aw, chae.. no way! why do i have to be left with you two and your boyfriends?” you whined.

“hey! ryo is not my boyfriend. we just.. kiss and cuddle.. and hold hands on occasion.” haerin defended, crossing her arms as she mumbled the last part.

“so… he’s your boyfriend?”

haerin scoffed before going back to writing on her paper.

“c’mon, y/n! hang with us at least once? you’re always with riki.” eunchae argued, a small pout on her face as she begged you to tag along with them.

you sighed, thinking for a moment, “fine.”

eunchae did a small celebratory dance before giving you a small side hug and resuming her studies.

the next day was your last day in school before winter break. it was tough having to walk through the halls and get to your classes without riki by your side. you missed the sound of his laugh and his corny jokes that he told just to make you smile.

but you got through it. you managed to make small conversation with him during your lunch period before you had to put your phone away to go back to class.

when the day was done, you went home to change and wait for haerin & eunchae to pick you up. you had sent riki a quick text, telling him where you were going and how you’re night was gonna go, but he never got back to you.

“you ready to go?” haerin asked as you climbed into her car, getting comfortable in your spot in the backseat. you nodded before she pulled out of your driveway, turning in the direction of the skating rink.

the ride made you feel somewhat better, taking your mind off of how much you missed your best friend and the weight of confessing to him once he came back.

you all would be meeting up with ryo and chan, so it was just a girl’s ride while you all talked about different things, eunchae’s playlist playing in the background.

once you arrived, you greeted the two boys that stood outside of the rink and went outside to grab your skates.

the rink was swarming with couples and people who came for double dates. it made you feel left out again, as you watched haerin and eunchae’s boyfriends help them with their skates. eunchae was wobbling around like a newborn foal, but chan was there to help her stay up on her feet.

you looked away, a slight frown on your face as you began to stand up on your own. you weren’t too good of a skater but you weren’t that bad, either. of course you usually had riki there to help you, but that obviously wasn’t the case this time. so you held onto the railing, making your way out to the rink where tons of couples held hands and held onto each other.

a few moments after, haerin and eunchae joined you on the rink, both of them standing by your side and grabbing your hand to help you across the rink. you looked at them in surprise, as they smiled at you.

“what’re you guys doing? i thought you were skating with ryo and chan?” you asked, gripping onto their hands as they guided you slowly.

“nah, those two knuckleheads are too busy racing with some random frats they found. besides, we couldn’t leave our girl all alone.” haerin explained to you, nudging you playfully.

you gave her a genuine smile, your heart warming at your two girlfriends being there for you when you needed them the most.

some of your favorite songs played throughout the rink and all three of you just had to dance. just when you thought you’d be skating alone, your night was replaced with laughter and you and your friends slipping on the rink more times than you can count. you all danced together each time a new song played and eventually, ryo and chan joined you.

even without riki there beside you, you had the time of your life.

once you all were too tired to keep skating, haerin drove back to your house while ryo and chan went to pick up a bunch of snacks from the store.

“well, the night wasn’t a disaster after all.” you sighed in content, taking your coat and shoes off as your friends set up in the living room with blankets and pillows.

“see? you should trust us more, y/n,” haerin said, giving you an ‘i told you so’ look. you chuckled at her response before entering the living room to turn on the tv and search for a movie until the boys arrived at your house.

once you found a movie for all of you, ryo and chan came back with all of your snacks and you all settled in the living room. you were bundled up in a blanket on your sofa while eunchae and chan shared the recliner. haerin and ryo sat next to you but cuddled up to each other.

your head rested in your hand as you watched the film play on the television in front of you, letting your thoughts drift off to riki. you wondered what he was doing at that very moment, wondering if he had thought about you since he left.

he was probably off doing something amazing, not really worrying about what you had going on back at home.

just then, you thought about the holiday season. christmas was in two days but you still didn’t get riki anything. you would’ve gotten him a game or some type of gift card for his console, but you get things like that for him every year, even for his birthday. this year you needed to do something different.

and since you didn’t have much cash on you, why not just craft something?

or write something.

you stood up from the sofa, throwing the blanket off of you and quietly walking upstairs. you entered your bedroom, quickly finding a piece of lined paper and your favorite pencil. you sat down at your desk, placing the paper in front of you, thinking about what to write.

you thought of your confession and all of the things you wanted to say to him before he left. you had the chance, but you didn’t take it. you were too afraid of rejection, too nervous to say those words while he was standing in front of you. but what better way to tell him than to sum it up in one big letter?

you smiled to yourself as you began to write down your thoughts and feelings toward him.

a few hours had flew by and now it was past 12. papers were scattered across your desktop and you’d written more than just a few words and letters.

your wrist and fingers ached from the amount of writing you’d done but you weren’t upset about it. it was everything you wanted, no— needed, to say. the only wish you had was that he felt the same way. he didn’t even have to give you anything materialistic; as long as you weren’t embarrassing yourself and that the feeling was mutual, you’d be fine.

you found a few envelopes in your drawer, folding the papers in an order and placing them in the envelopes. you signed your name on some of them with a red heart and wrapped one of your hair bows around the stack of letters.

you placed them to the side for now, knowing you’d get up first thing in the morning to take then to the nearest post office so he could get them in time for christmas.

after putting all of your supplies away, you walked over to your bed, pulling the covers back and settling into your sheets.

inside of your parents’ home, it smelled of cinnamon and pine tree as all of your friends and family piled into the rooms, waiting to open their gifts.

you greeted some of them with a smile before entering the kitchen again to help your mom with the food she’d made for the holiday dinner.

“have you heard from him, yet?” she asked, turning to you while you stirred one of the dishes for her.

“mom,“ you chuckled slightly, the question almost catching you off guard.

“what? y/n, it’s all you’ve been worried about. i know how much he means to you.” she spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

“but i haven’t said anything about him,”

“you don’t have to,” she said. “i know that look. when you’re stressing.”

you hated how she knew you so well. how everyone knew you so well and could tell when you were bothered.

“i’m gonna assume the answer is no, then.”

you shook your head, confirming her assumption. she sighed, squeezing your arm gently.

“these things take time, sweetheart. he’ll answer.”

you set the table for everyone while your parents brought out pots and pans filled with the dishes your mother had prepared.

you gave everyone their glasses as they poured their selection of beverage, most of them just choosing water. you sat in your seat once you were done handing out silverware and plates.

everyone’s plates now had food they’d probably never forget, thanks to your mom’s cooking. the room filled with conversation, your friends conversing with some of your cousins about clothes and shopping while others thanked your parents for the generous invite and spoiling them with meals and gifts.

you smiled at the sight of everyone talking and enjoying each other’s company, while you began making conversation of your own, talking with eunchae about more plans for your winter break.

just then, the door bell rang, causing some of the chatter to die down a bit.

“i’ll get it,” you excused yourself from the table, walking toward the door.

when you opened the door to see who was out there, you weren’t expecting to see the taller male, dark hair sleek and combed back with a strand hanging loosely in the front.

“riki,” you let out a breath before you were cut off with the feeling of his cold but soft lips against yours. to say it caught you by surprise would be an understatement but you reciprocated, your lips moving in sync with his.

your hand came to rest on the side of his face as he bent down slightly, deepening the kiss.

as you both finally pulled away, your fingers rested against your lips, savoring the feeling that you had longed for.

“uhm, i take it you received your gift?” you asked softly, your faces still just inches apart.

“well, i mean…” he chuckled, gesturing towards his lips.

you laughed, looking away from him for a moment as you thought about him reading all the things you said in the letters. how you told him how much you’d liked him since you two started middle school together.

“the feelings’ mutual, by the way.” he nudged you teasingly.

“oh, i think i got that part,” you say, laughing once more, pulling him inside the house and closing the door behind you.

• • •

[eternallyhyucks]

sungchan as a down bad college bf

— no warnings, fluff, wc: 319 , req by anon :)

— i was listening to heavy by the marías while writing this and this song is so sungchan

𖤐 ྀ

would definitely text you about random things that happen to him throughout the day like you’re his notes app

“i saw a frog today”

“someone just tripped up the stairs”

“forgot my keys at home”

100% would go to your classes with you if he was free

“can i come today too?”

“not today, have an exam😓”

“i’ll take it for you🤗”

physical touch!

i definitely see him as the type to love holding hands and just keeping you close in general☹️

buys matching keychains bc everyone needs to know how cute and cool you guys are

so many study dates

he probably ends up getting distracted by staring at you half the time, but he cant help it if you’re so beautiful all the time

you’d def have to scold him a couple (a lot) of times before he actually does his own work

if you work an on campus job, he would visit all the time and fight the urge to apply just to be able to work with you LOL

late night walks <3!

would show up to your dorm or apartment at like 12am and say “let’s go” with zero context

i feel like he’d be a popular campus crush, but he makes sure it doesn’t bother you at because he only has eyes for you :D

definitely the type to be late to class and still find a way to see you before it

vlogs his walks to class even if you’ll see him an hour or two later (and makes you do the same)

during the weeks where both of you are busy, he would facetime and text you as much as he can, sending small encouraging words throughout the day to help both of you get through tougher days

down bad sungchan, the man you are😭

©eternallyhyucks

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