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celiastjamesoscar · 11 months ago

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Night Shift

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader. Sam x reporter!reader

Summary: Sam blamed you for the 2022 attacks, she blamed you for everything. But guilt drives people into blindness, and Sam eventually finds herself seeking your comfort.

AN: this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, so I apologize if at times it seems redundant. Based off of this request!

Warnings: angst, slight cursing, mentions of past drug addiction, small part of canon typical Scream violence, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of alcoholism, Tara is a little shit. Let me know if I missed anything!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 18.0K

Nothing. That’s all you could think about as you listened to the sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor. This was your fault. You were the reason Tara was now in the hospital with multiple stab wounds and a broken leg. If only you had gotten to her house sooner, she wouldn’t be in this position. All your friends tried to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that you had no idea some dipshit in a mask was going to attack her, but you knew better.

You were only nine when it happened, but you could still feel the sharp pain of Jill Roberts’ knife plunging deep inside of your abdomen. Sometimes, you swore you could still hear her black combat boots sneaking around on the wooden floor, and the only thing that would play throughout your mind was the sweet release of not having to look over your shoulder at every sound.

The sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor increasing in speed pulled you out of your thoughts. “Hey, Tara. It’s alright,” you whispered to the sleeping girl, but you got no response. Her heartbeat monitor began peeping so rapidly, that your own heartbeat began thumping in your ears, and it eventually blocked out Tara’s.

Your heartbeat echoed throughout your ears as it continued its rapid pace of 150 beats per minute. You had no idea why you were anxious, but then your surroundings suddenly changed. You were no longer in the monotone gray walls of a hospital, but you now found yourself in Tara’s kitchen. The smaller girl was no longer in her hospital gown; she now wore a pink long sleeve shirt and jeans, and you instantly knew where this was going.

You tried to scream, but no sound left your throat as you watched Tara answer that dreaded phone call. The pounding in your ears continued as you began to sweat and frantically tried to move, but your feet were glued to the floor; no matter how hard you tried to move, you simply could not compel your body to move. You watched as Tara fought against Ghostface, and just like every night, you watched as Ghostface plunged his knife deep into Tara’s stomach. Over and over again.

But unlike the real events that conspired, you couldn’t save Tara. In this version, you watched as Tara bled out onto the floor, her crimson red blood staining the nicely wooded flooring. Her screams were the only thing that drowned out your heartbeat, and you begged it to stop.

“Y/N! Y/N, help me!” Tara cried out in a broken voice as blood now began to seep from her mouth as she tried to crawl toward you, but Ghostface stopped her. In a single motion, he leaned down to Tara and pulled her up by her hair, and slit her throat. When he stood up, you were met with those haunting hollowed out eyes, and when you blinked, the mask was gone.

Jill Roberts stood before you with murderous eyes as she slowly started to advance toward you. You tried to walk backward, but your feet wouldn’t move. Jill was not an arms length away, and you noticed the beautiful glint of light that reflected off the blood as she brought it down in a single motion.

Before the knife could sink into your chest, you were being shaken away. “Y/N. Get up; you’re having a nightmare,” the rough voice of Sam Carpenter stated as she awoke you from your nightmare.

Your eyes instantly shot up as you leaned up from the couch, checking your surroundings. “Oh, thank you,” you weakly replied as Sam let go of your shoulders and walked away from you, not giving you a response. Sam noticed the sweat that lined your forehead and caused some of your hair to stick to your face, but she didn’t care. Why would she care about someone that ruined her life?

Technically, it wasn’t your fault, but it was easier for Sam to blame you for what happened and she liked having it that way. It was her own fucked up way of keeping you at arms length while also always keeping an eye on you.

You checked your surroundings again and you were grateful that you were in your home and not that dreaded house that Tara used to live in. You had fallen asleep at some point on the couch and you left the TV running while your homework was spread out on the coffee table in front of you. You had gained a terrible habit of staying up until ungodly hours while trying to cram in information for your exams.

You groaned while standing up from the couch and you checked the time, 11:30 pm. If Sam was still here, that meant the rest of the girls were here as well, and you dreaded the thought of being around them. That was the worst part about living with Anika; you were constantly around the people that despised you. ‘People’ as in just Sam, but you liked to make it plural for the dramatic effect.

With a sigh, you grudgingly left the living room and went into the backyard, where a fire was going with the group huddled around it while sitting on hay bales. “Good morning, Y/N,” Tara teased with a gentle smile while scooting over on her hay bale, inviting you to sit next to her. “Yeah right,” you mumbled as you sat down next to the girl, ignoring the glance Sam threw at you, “What are you guys doing out here? It’s starting to get cold.”

“We were talking shit about you, but now we can’t do that with you out here,” Mindy joked as she rested her head on Anika’s shoulder. You and Mindy had a special ‘situationship’ going on for a while, but you two ended on good terms and occasionally picked on each other. “I hope it was good then,” you replied with a smile and Mindy nodded her head.

The conversation around the fire was an ideal one as you caught up with the group about any gossip you might have missed while you were asleep. Nothing sparked your interest too much, not until Tara mentioned Sam having a boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sam dryly stated as she stared down her younger sister, “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“You have been saying that for months, Sam! All you two do is check each other out but you never talk! You have to give this guy a chance!” Tara exclaimed and you felt an unwarranted feeling of jealousy shoot throughout your chest. “What guy are you guys talking about?” You asked, starting to get more involved with the current conversion.

“This guy that has been after Sam’s heart ever since we moved here,” Tara casually remarked as she grabbed a stick and poked around the fire; the little shit had a thing for a fire.

You could feel Sam’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you racked Tara’s words around in your head. Sure, Sam was old enough to make decisions for herself, but the thought of her actually being with someone other than you makes you sick to your stomach. And just like the masochist you were, you had to ask Sam about it. “So why don’t you talk to him?”

Sam huffed, clearly annoyed by the fact that you, of all people, would ask her about her love life. “Why? So you can go and tell Gale about it? No thanks,” she dryly stated with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, you little shit, that wasn’t Y/N! I’ve told you that before,” Tara defended as she comfortably put a hand on your knee, “And even if she did, I support her wrongs.”

“Tara, you’re not helping,” you whispered with a small, awkward laugh. A small groan left Sam’s lips as she stood up from the fire, “I’m going inside,” she said while walking toward the door to the house.

Once she was inside, Tara broke the tension, “I’m sorry she’s like that, Y/N. She doesn’t want to accept the truth.” The comfort from Tara was nice, it actually made you feel like someone at least cared for you that had the last name of Carpenter.

“It’s okay, no need to apologize on her behalf. I get it,” you said with a weak smile as you hid your pain. It was a stupid feeling: pain. You owed Sam nothing, but you still couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt run through your body every time you saw the woman.

“So, Y/N, what’s it like fumbling an amazing woman like me?” Mindy playfully asked, her own way of trying to lighten the tense mood that had settled around the fire, “I need Anika to know how special I am.”

It was a shitty attempt, but it still put a smile on your face. “Mindy once got in a revolving door,” you said with a laugh, “she was in it for a solid 5 minutes.”

“Blasphemy!” Mindy shouted as she quickly stood up from her hay bale, “It was one minute and you didn’t help at all! And you let Tara record it!”

“Oh my god, I need to find that video,” Tara butted in as she pulled out her phone, quickly trying to find the video while Mindy tried to steal the phone from her.

It was small moments like these that you enjoyed with the group; moments were everyone was happy and they could forgot about their fucked up pasts. Those moments were rare, but you cherished them like they were your life support.

As time dragged on and the night got colder, everyone outside called it quits. Well, at least on being outside.

“Hurry up, Gizmo, I’m freezing,” Mindy joked as she walked behind Tara, almost stepping on the girl’s shoes. “Don’t call me a gremlin,” the shorter girl shot back with a glare as she approached the back door to your house, “apologize and I’ll open it.”

“Fuck you,” Mindy retorted as she made a move for the door, bud Tara was quick to react as she kicked one of Mindy’s shins.

“Apologize.”

“No.”

Several beats of silence pass by as you and Anika watch a stare down between the two friends before Mindy inevitably sighs with defeat. “Alright fine, I’m sorry I called Gizmo. You aren’t a gremlin, more like a fun sized Lord Farquaad,” Mindy said, trailing off toward the end of her sentence.

“Hey, hey! Stop it!” You exclaimed, quickly catching Tara’s fist that was inches away from connecting Mindy’s face.

You were too busy trying to keep Tara from ripping into Mindy that you didn’t notice Sam opening up the door until she spoke. “What the hell are you doing to my sister?”

The position you found yourself in was an uncomfortable one, to say the least. You were holding Tara from behind, with your arms holding the smaller girl’s ones back.

“Mind your business, Sam,” Tara stated in a strained voice, trying to get hold out of your tight hold, “this is between me and Mindy.”

Her sister’s words didn’t seem to phase Sam at all, as the older sister couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of you. The way you had your hands on her sister made her blood boil. Deep down she knew that you would never hurt Tara, but that didn’t stop the over growing feeling of protectiveness come through.

In a single motion, Sam stopped out of the house and gripped your bicep with her right left hand. When you looked down, you could see her veins in her hands as her grip tightened, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that was trying to flex as well.

“Let her go,” Sam demanded, leaving zero room for arguing. So, you shrugged your shoulders and let go, not caring to warn Sam about the can of whoopass her sister was about to unleash on Mindy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was like a tiger! A short-legged one with asthma, but a Tiger!” Mindy cried into her phone, telling her brother about her vicious fight with Tara. Honestly, it was impressive how quickly Tara moved to latch onto Mindy, but even more impressive how surprisingly strong she was. The wounds that Mindy sustained weren’t anything terrible; a small cut on her cheek and a busted lip, but nothing was hurt more than her ego.

“You asked for it,” Anika commented, but then gave Mindy a quick kiss for the look she received. You chuckled at the small encounter as you excused yourself from Tara, who had a smug smile on her lips. She knew where you were going, and she didn’t think about warning you that Sam was also there; it was like her own way of playing matchmaker—a shitty matchmaker, but still one nonetheless.

The kitchen was a weird place you found solace in; nothing was special about it. It was where you went when you needed a step back from reality. Another odd thing: Sam also found the same comfort in the kitchen. Maybe it was the quiet nature, or the dim lights that brought comfort, or even perhaps the shitty decorations that littered the walls, but whatever it was, there was a soft comfort.

“Hey,” you said upon entering the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes refused to leave the floor. To anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed, but not with you, not with it involved Sam. You noticed her slightly heavy breathing and the barely visible sweat that glistened her forehead. And when her eyes finally left the floor, you could see nothing but black in her irises.

It took not even a second before Sam finally snapped out of whatever trance she had found herself in and returned to her usual self. Well, about as normal as Sam could be. She quickly wiped the sweat off her forehead and recrossed her arms as she looked at you. “What are you doing in here?” She all but demanded; her eyes seemed never to leave you as she stared you down.

The question was a weird one, as this was your home, but you just chalked it up to Sam's bizarre way of asking, ‘Why are you here with me and not my sister?’

“Hanging out in the kitchen; it’s where I belong,” you said with a smile, and to your surprise, you managed to pull a chuckle from the Latina. It was a quick laugh, but it sounded like angels were singing in your ears, and you would go through hell and back with nothing but the Hamilton soundtrack to keep you busy if it meant hearing that laugh again.

Sam smiled faintly as she spoke, “Yeah, well, I’ve tried your spaghetti before; you don’t belong anywhere near the kitchen. I’m sure they would have sent you into the army and made your husband stay at home.”

“Okay, wow, that one hurt!” You exclaimed with a joking smile as you placed a hand over your heart, pretending to be hurt, “That one dug deep, but bold of you to assume I would have a husband.”

“Bold of you to assume I would care.”

A tense silence filled the air after Sam spoke, but it was a silence you were starting to grow comfortable with. And for the first time in her life, Sam felt terrible for what she said to you. She wanted to apologize for saying she didn’t care about you, but she couldn’t muster up the pride to admit she was wrong. So all she did was look at you sadly and hope you would pick up on it.

“You know, I seriously thought we were having a moment,” you halfheartedly joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It took several seconds before Sam replied, just as you walked out of the kitchen, “Yeah…I don’t really think the whole ‘husband’ thing would work out for me either.”

This comment certainly caught you off guard. “Why is that?” You asked while returning back to the kitchen, clearly interested in what Sam had to say, “Not much of a marriage person?”

Sam shuffled awkwardly on her feet as she uncrossed her arms, gripped the counter behind her, and looked down at the floor. “No, it’s not the marriage part. It’s the man part,” she admitted while slowly looking up at you with the most vulnerable eyes ever. The look she gave you said a thousand words: this was something not even Tara knew about.

Sure, the Carpenter sisters shared everything, but Sam wouldn’t share this. Her attraction toward women was something that further ruined the bond between her and her mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it ruin her relationship with her only family left. Of course, Sam knew about Tara’s relationship with women, especially once she found out about Tara and Amber, but she still couldn’t help the feeling of being afraid to disappoint Tara.

But before you could comfort Sam, before you could tell her that her fears meant nothing and that Tara would still love her, you got interrupted. “Sam! Y/N! Get your asses in here!” Mindy yelled from the living room, “We want to watch this movie with you two!”

Sam quickly got rid of the vulnerability on her face when she heard Mindy’s voice, not wanting to show that kind of weakness to anyone.

“Sam-” you started, but the woman quickly brushed past you, subtly wiping a tear from her eye as she walked into the living room.

Following behind her, you entered the living room and sat at the only open spot on the couch, which was conveniently next to Tara, who had Sam on her other side. “Thank god, I was starting to think you two were fucking in there or something,” Mindy remarked as she grabbed the tv remote, “Let me introduce you guys to the scariest movie on the planet: The Cat in The Hat Live Action!”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and playful teasing as the hours slowly seeped into the early morning hours. The small banter between Mindy and Tara kept things interesting; Mindy compared Tara to the Things, as Anika tried to keep it peaceful. The stolen glances you shared with Sam had their conversations, and when you went to bed that night, you would consider this night a step in the right direction at changing your relationship with Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One thing Sam hated about working a 9-5 was how inconsiderate most of society can be. It was already a busy day at the cafe, more alive than average, and her nerves were already shot for the next and a half. From people complaining about not getting orders in a short time to people demanding to have their drinks remade, it was a rough day for the older Carpenter.

She had half a mind to tell the next person who complained about their coffee not being proper that it was just coffee; if they wanted it right, they should buy a Keurig and make it themselves. Although that would be funny, it would also end in Sam getting fired, so she just bit her tongue and continued working.

As if her day couldn’t get any worse, you always had a habit of catching Sam at her worst. “Are you stalking me now?” Sam questioned once she saw you approach the front counter.

“Oh yeah. You know me, I can’t get enough of the Carpenter girls,” you said with a smirk as you quickly checked Sam up and down, frowning when you saw a faded coffee stain on her apron. It wasn’t hard to notice the looks Sam got in public, so you could imagine how customers would treat her. If the universe would allow it, you would put Sam in your back pocket and protect her from the rest of the world; God knows that the woman deserves some peace in her life for once.

“For whatever reason, Tara can’t seem to leave you alone,” Sam mumbled as she pulled out a pen and notepad, “What can I get you?”

“Just a small cappuccino, please,” you replied as Sam wrote down your order and took your payment. She liked writing things down, which helped her remember the important stuff. And maybe, in the distant future, she might want to buy you a coffee sometime.

Once you ordered, you went and sat down at a booth by yourself and took in the place: it had indeed calmed down from earlier; only a couple of people remained from the rush hour. You enjoyed the calmness, as it gave you time to observe people. Not in a weird or stalkerish way, but in a way to think about other people’s lives, how these weren’t just random people who had no life. These were people who had dreams, who had family and friends; you enjoyed watching the way the world works around you.

You watched as a man with stress lines on his forehead eagerly type away on his laptop, mouthing every word he typed. How sweat lined his hairline, he could have had a deadline for work that he pushed off until the last minute. You then turned your attention to the girl at the opposite end of the cafe, a book in hand as she wore black headphones over her ears, entranced into the world of fantasy without a care in the world while sporting a soft smile. The world amazed you in ways like that: two completely different people who somehow ended up at the same place at the same time, with different things going on in their lives. Maybe it was fate that brought these two strangers together, and you smiled when you saw them bump into each other before leaving, both wearing a smile and talking about the book she was reading. Maybe that’s what you wished had happened between you and Sam: an accidental meeting somewhere where a good relationship was possible and not this borderline hostile friendship.

A couple of minutes passed before Sam brought over your drink to you. “How late are you working?” You asked once she handed you your drink. The questioning look she gave you was a funny one, but not that it mattered.

“I’m here till 5. Why?”

“Damn, you got a 9 to 5? It looks like I’ll take the night shift,” you joked, but Sam didn’t laugh, only giving you a questioning glare, “Lucy Dacus? No? You’re boring.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not obsessed with three grown women who refer to themselves as ‘boys,’” Sam remarked. She had no desire to learn anything about Boygenius, especially after listening to her sister talk for an hour about all of the unholy things she would let Julien Baker do to her. If Sam was being honest, half of the stuff Tara said deserved at least a ten-year prison sentence.

“But you know who they are,” you said teasingly as you stood up from the booth, “Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll soon grow to appreciate Boygenius. I’ll have Tara fix that.”

“Mhmmm, I’m sure about that,” she mumbled as she returned to the counter, bidding you farewell with a slight nod, not caring to return your toothy smile or wave.

If Sam drove home after her long shift listening to Julien Baker, that was no one’s business but hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam got home, she only wanted a nice, hot shower and go to bed. She didn’t even bother to eat dinner, as she didn’t have the energy or care to do so. As she opened the door to her apartment, which seemed heavier than usual, she kicked off her shoes with a sigh as she made her way into her bedroom, utterly oblivious to the voices in the living room.

“What’s wrong with her?” You asked Tara once the taller Carpenter had shut her bedroom door. “I don’t know; probably work stuff. Do you have five of spade?” Tara asked, more intrigued with the game she was playing than her sister.

“No, go fish,” you replied while looking at Sam’s door; something was telling you to go check on the girl to make sure she was alright, but you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Ohhhh my god, you hate me,” the younger Carpenter dramatically stated, dragging out the words as she threw herself backward onto the couch.

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t have done your entire English paper, would I?” You questioned while shooting a glance at the pouting girl, but when your comment earned you a middle finger, you placed your cards down as you stood up from the couch, “I'll be right back.”

Tara scoffed at you as she leaned up on her elbows. “Have you learned nothing from the Meeks family? I hope you don’t come back,” she mouthed off as she started looking at your cards, “you fucking asshole! You did have that card!”

“I never said I didn’t,” you replied with a smirk as you walked toward Sam’s door, ducking out of the way of a flying shoe courtesy of your best friend Tara.

A soft rasping of knuckles pulled Sam away from her almost meltdown. She had felt a constant pressure on her all day, and it started to lift briefly, but it suddenly came back by the end of her shift. Sam was used to the constant pressure and needed to be the best version of herself now that she was providing for her sister, but it all started to get too much for her.

“Sam, you okay?” Great, not only did she have this overwhelming feeling about to take over, but she was also about to have a high speed come apart in front of the person she didn’t want to see her weak.

“I’m good, Y/N. Go back to Tara,” she called out as she backed herself against a wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem too happy when you got home,” you replied, hoping to get somewhere with the older woman. “I’m fine. Please, leave me alone,” Sam pleaded, but the way her voice broke off toward the end of her sentence told you that she didn’t need to be left alone right now.

Several seconds passed, the sound of Sam’s bedroom clock ticking away, slowly counting down the seconds until Sam couldn’t bear the deafening silence. She felt like she had somehow found herself in her version of ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’ at any moment, she would succumb to the voices that were guilting her. For what guilt, she did not know; guilty of her origins, guilty of neglecting her baby sister for five years, guilty of torturing her body for years on end, putting any substance into her body to help calm her mind? Sam didn’t know what was causing this constant guilt that followed her anxiety and pressure, but she would do anything to make it stop. And she did make it stop.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled as she pushed herself up from the floor and walked to her door, grabbing the handle but making no motion to open the door. If she opened that door, it would be an invitation to open herself up to you; she only opened up to one person in her life, and look what he did to her. This constant fear of having to look over her shoulder, as if the shadows were going to transform into physical beings and take her life, or even worse, take Tara’s life. Sam wears scars, both physical and mental, from him, and she would lay down her own life if it meant protecting her sister. But when she looked at you, with your innocent eyes that beamed when you looked at her, Sam knew you could never hurt anyone. But Sam was never one to make accurate judgments.

The creaking sound of Sam opening up her door pulled you from your thoughts. Thoughts that weren’t any special; who you would have in your ideal Hunger Games lineup. You knew for a fact that the president would be Cersei Lannister and the game maker would be Jigsaw. However, you still have yet to determine who the twenty-four tributes would be: the only tributes you had so far were Santa Barbara Ellie, Pioneer Kim Kardashian, Regina George, and Chanel Oberlin. It's not the best list, but it's a solid start.

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes darting over Sam’s bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. Even at her worst, she always somehow managed to captivate you like she was a siren, slowly bringing you into your inevitable demise. Still, you could never seem to pull yourself away from the beauty that was Sam Carpenter.

Sam scoffed at your weak greeting while ignoring the feeling of her stomach turning at how you looked at her. She knew she looked like a hot mess, and she believed it was your way of silently making fun of her. But the way your lips were slightly parted and your eyes seemed a bit too dilated, refused to leave her own, told her that you weren’t judging or making fun of her. No, you were admiring her, which sent a slight shock of guilt throughout her; Guilt, that was Samantha Carpenter’s best friend.

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the floor, as she couldn’t handle the feeling of your eyes burning into her skull. “Who’s shoe is that?” She asked, motioning down to the floor, where Tara’s shoe landed.

“Well, if you look closely, you can see that it’s a size three for babies,” you remarked teasingly.

“Kill yourself!” Tara shouted from the living room, not caring enough to storm out into the hallway and show you how vicious she can be.

“Charming, isn’t she?” You stated as Sam looked back up and made eye contact with you. Her face told you that she didn’t want to talk, but her eyes were silently begging you to stay. It was a dilemma that you stumbled upon, but you were always someone who loved conflicts. “Is everything alright?”

Sam sighed as she leaned against her doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that what you wanted? To ask me if things are okay?”

“Um, yes and no?” You trailed off, not wanting to make things more awkward than they were, “Hold on.” You quickly moved from Sam’s door into the living room, and Sam ignored the hushed threats being spoken; her sister was an angel, after all.

“Here ya go,” you said with an embarrassingly large smile once you returned to Sam’s door. In your hand, you held a small brown lunch bag. Sam had to fight off any instincts to punch you in the throat.

“I don’t like gifts,” she said instead of resorting to violence. Truth be told, Sam loved gifts; she just hated receiving them, as it made her feel like she was in someone’s debt.

“Well, good thing it’s not a gift,” you replied, smiling, pushing the gift bag toward Sam, who gave you a questioning look before accepting it. The bag itself was featherlight, almost as if nothing was in there. Sam gave you one last questioning look before opening the bag and looking inside.

In the bag were several containers, all hosting different kinds of cookies and brownies, and to Sam’s surprise, they were all her favorites. There was something much more prominent at the bottom, but she couldn’t tell what it was as the rest of the cookies sat atop. Sam gave you a small smile as she walked over to her chest of drawers and began taking out the items, ignoring how you were now peering into her room as you leaned against the door frame.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Sam genuinely said in a weak, almost fragile voice as she slowly got to the bottom of the bag, “I appreciate this. it has been-” The rest of her words died on the tip of her tongue as she stared into the bag, as silence filled the room. Those silent seconds dragged on into a quiet minute, neither of you saying anything. You knew it might have been too bold or maybe even wrong, but you wanted to let Sam know that you were proud of her.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you quietly whispered, gaining Sam’s attention. Your heart broke once her eyes met yours, tears glossing in her doe eyes as her lip quivered. She gave you a slight nod of recognition before turning her attention back to the bag as a single tear ran down her cheek, grateful that you had already left by the time it broke from her eye.

With a dry chuckle, Sam reached into the bag, pulled out a 10-inch cookie, and sat it down on her chest of drawers. She stared at it for several moments before her lips pulled into a smile as a new feeling shot throughout her heart, one that she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. But that feeling of hope wasn’t for her; no, it was a hopeful feeling about you.

Sam smiled down at the cookie one last time before she went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and plate, thankful that Tara had gone off to her room so she could enjoy her treat by herself.

Once she returned to her room, she pulled the lid off the container and cut a small piece out of the cookie. Making sure not to ruin the words that said, “Happy three years of sobriety.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The minutes seemed endless as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You didn’t know why you were waiting, but you just were. Your mind was telling you to get up, to do something productive, but your heart and soul were seemingly forcing you to stay put, like something important was going to happen anytime, and if you were just a fraction of a second too late, you would miss it.

It was a stupid feeling, but you couldn’t compel yourself to move; it was as if your mind was in a trance, stuck in some faraway land, and you could do nothing to pull yourself back into your body. You were on the verge of losing your mind when you knew exactly what you were waiting for, and when you finally accepted why, it happened.

Your phone dinged on your nightstand, and you immediately smiled; you didn’t have to look at it to know who it was. In a swift motion, you quickly got up from your bed and grabbed your phone as you read the text message. It wasn’t a long one, or even a special one, to be honest, but the smile on your face was almost comical, and your heart soared. The text read, “I don’t know how you found out about the date, nor do I even want to. But thank you, Y/N, I needed that today.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I will never understand the hype for ‘Hamilton,’” Mindy stated with a look of distaste as she flopped down onto the Carpenter’s couch. It wasn’t movie night but more of a girl’s night. Since it was Tara’s idea to have a girl’s night, she got to pick the movie. But it wasn’t for her, no, it was for Sam.

The older Carpenter sister would never admit to liking such things, but she did have a soft spot for musicals. She didn’t know where this love for them came from, but ever since she was young, she had loved the idea of singing.

Before Sam had discovered her mother’s journal, which had ultimately led to the destruction of her family, she used to sing in her church’s choir. It was the first thing her mother didn’t force her into doing, and she loved singing in front of people; it made her feel like nothing in the world could touch her.

Singing was the only thing Christina Carpenter told Sam she was good at and the last thing she ever took away from Sam.

Once Mr. Carpenter left, Christina stopped taking the kids to church, which caused Sam to be pulled from the choir. It still didn’t stop Sam; she saved up enough money to buy a guitar and write songs while practicing the guitar in her room. When Sam started to dabble around in drugs and alcohol, she slowly started to lose herself. She lost who she really was, but she never lost her voice.

Only when it was the day of Sam’s 18th birthday did Christina finally ruin the last good thing Sam liked about herself, “Your real father had the voice of an angel.”

Sam left that night, and she hadn’t sung since.

But now, five years later, Sam still loves everything to do with music. She was glad that Tara had taken one for the team and turned on Hamilton because Mindy would never let Sam hear the end of it.

“‘Hamilton’ is okay, but not Lin-Manuel Miranda’s best work,” you stated as you stood in the kitchen, making a bag of popcorn for yourself. Sam was also in the kitchen with you, which has become a common meeting place. She was making herself a sandwich as she quietly listened to the banter between you and Mindy.

“I don’t believe you. What is his best work?” Tara challenged as she shifted on the couch, throwing an arm over the side as she looked into the kitchen to glare at you.

“His best work is easily ‘In the Heights,’” you declared with too much emphasis on the movie title.

“No!” Tara yelled, “You only say that because the lead actress looks like Sam, and you said she was hot!”

“I did not say that!” You lied as heat rushed up your neck and flooded your cheeks. It wasn’t embarrassing because Tara called you out; you were embarrassed because you were in the kitchen with Sam. It didn’t help that you could hear Sam snickering as you were defending yourself.

“Yes, you did. Do you want me to pull up the screenshots from the long chain of text messages you sent me?” Tara asked, even though it wasn’t a question, as she pulled out her phone. “Example one: ‘Oh my god, Tara. I’m watching this movie, and this woman looks just like Sam.’”

You quickly threw your bag of popcorn down onto the counter as you sprinted into the living room. You simply couldn’t live with the idea that Sam knows just how you yearned for her.

“Example two: ‘This is Sam, just in another universe.’ Example three, in all caps: ‘Oh my god, Tara! I am not joking when I say that-’” You quickly snatched the phone from the younger Carpenter sister before she could say possibly the horniest text message you had ever sent.

“You are no fun,” Tara whined as you deleted the messages from her phone. “You’re evil,” you retorted before handing Tara back her phone, who was quick to grab it. You walked back into the kitchen to grab your popcorn and became embarrassed when you saw Sam.

She was wearing one of her light-colored long-sleeve muscle shirts again with a pair of gray sweatpants. In simple words, she looked amazing. Usually, when Sam wore some variation of the muscle shirt combo, you could act ‘normal.’ But now that Tara had practically outed your attraction to Sam, you just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Thankfully, she just gave you a small smile as she watched you grab your bag before heading back into the living room, no doubt about to be the subject of constant teasing from Tara and Mindy.

“So,” Mindy started once you sat down on the couch next to her, “Are we going to talk about those thirst messages-” “Start the damn movie, Tara.”

By the time the movie started, Sam had entered the living room, but not without earning a cat call whistle from Mindy, no doubt a jab at you. She opted to sit by herself in the loveseat as she kicked her feet up on the opposite end. She sent you a smile when no one was looking, and you could have sworn both hearts started beating as one.

Throughout the movie, you had to deal with Tara rapping and Mindy ranting about the musical, but overall, it was a fun night. Sam was slowly starting to warm up to the idea of having you around more often, and you slowly felt yourself catching feelings for her.

Of course, there was this natural attraction to Sam, she was simply beautiful, but her protective personality mixed with her stand-off, almost bitchy, personality was merely perfect. But with her bitchiness, she was the sweetest, most caring person you had ever met. Her laugh was so angelic, and the way her eyes crinkled when she did laugh was so heartwarming. Sam Carpenter was perfect in your eyes.

To say that this attraction was one-sided wouldn’t be fair. After you had dropped off her cookie, Sam started to act differently around you. She would smile more, and only at you most of the time. It seemed like she had begun to reserve that confident smile just for you. She started to see you more as an individual with feelings and plans for the future rather than a simple 2-dimensional person who was only in her life to make it hell. Sam had actually started to care for you even though she still tried her best to despise you.

So when the movie finished and Mindy went home, you grabbed your coat to follow suit soon.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” Tara said as she hugged you while you were standing next to the front door, “You know I love you, right?”

You quickly reciprocated the hug, pulling the girl into a warm, soft embrace. “I know you do, and I also love you too. Even though you can be a shit sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you love it!” She happily exclaimed while pulling back from the hug to pinch your left cheek, “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will, Ms. Carpenter, I will,” you replied, smiling as you opened the door, and Tara disappeared into her room. You had gone halfway out of the door when someone spoke.

“You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye?” You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; you could pick that soft voice from anywhere. Granted, she was the only one left in the apartment, but you still have yourself the credit for knowing it was her.

“I didn’t think you would want to say goodbye,” you replied as you entered the apartment and shut the door, “I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with you.”

That was the thing about you: you were so damn respectful. Sometimes, Sam wanted to slam you against a wall to beat the hell out of you. Other times, she wanted to slam you against a wall with her tongue down your throat. Sam had a weird way of showing her attraction to you.

“You didn’t think you were overstepping boundaries when you brought me that cookie?” Sam questioned with a faint smile on her lips. She would never tell you this, but she loved teasing you, as it was the only way she could see the more embarrassed side of you.

“I figured I was, but I thought the gesture of it would be nice enough,” you replied in a weak voice as you rubbed the back of your neck with your hand and shuffled from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry if it was rude of me to do that without asking first. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

The older woman laughed a bit as she walked closer to you and opened the door, “At least let me walk you out,” she offered. You gave her a smile with a nod as you followed her out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind you.

“So, what do you think of musicals?” You asked as you walked down the stairs with her. “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Sam joked with the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, and you almost felt your knees give out.

“Ha, you wish,” you replied as you matched her tone of voice, which earned you a playful smirk to get sent your way. If you figured your one way to win Sam’s trust was to flirt with her occasionally, you would go out giving it your all.

You two reached the floor level of the apartment building, and you held the door open for Sam as you walked outside. “But seriously, though, what do you think of them?” You asked as Sam followed you to your car.

“I enjoy them well enough. Why?” Sam responded as she eyed you suspiciously.

“Because the ‘Aladdin’ musical is going to be here soon,” you stated before you continued with your proposal, “And I was wondering if you would want to go with me?”

The offer was a genuine one from you; you wanted to spend more quality time with Sam, but you also have been dying to see the musical. It was a win-win situation all around.

“Y/n,” Sam started with a beaming smile that matched her chocolate eyes, “I would love to go with you. When and how much do I owe you?”

You quickly picked up Sam’s hand and held it between yours, “You don’t owe me anything. Consider it payment for letting me terrorize your sister.”

Sam glanced down at your hands before looking back up at you. Her beautiful eyes held so much darkness in them that they couldn’t help but draw you in. When you looked into Sam’s eyes at just the right moments, you didn’t see the gorgeous woman; no, you would see her father. And it made you yearn for her even more. Sam had never experienced actual love, but when you looked into her eyes, it made you wonder why thieves bothered to steal pieces of art; you knew you were in love with her.

In a swift moment, before Sam had time to think about her actions, she leaned in. She had meant to kiss your cheek, but in a sudden and indescribable moment, Sam slightly turned her head to kiss the corner of your lips, millimeters away from your lips.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she whispered with a small smile as she said goodbye. You were too busy hoping she left a lipstick mark to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly as you tapped your foot against the floor. Your stomach was wrapped up in knots you could barely remember to breathe; the only thing you could think about was the constant nervousness that was rattling you to your core. You were early, half an hour earlier, to be exact, but you would rather be early and have to wait rather than be late.

You were sitting on the bottom stairs of Sam’s apartment building, impatiently waiting until it would be an acceptable time to go to the Carpenter’s apartment. It was the night of the musical, and you were wearing a simple yet elegant suit as you pulled at the collar of your shirt as if it was slightly choking you.

‘Nervous’ wasn’t the correct word to describe your feelings. Petrified would be a better word for it. You were terrified that you would somehow mess up this night, had somehow overdone it, or that Sam wouldn’t have fun. Self-doubt was your greatest friend, after all.

You picked up the bouquet of roses from beside you and stared at them. “Maybe it's too much,” you thought out loud as you turned them over in your hand. Neither of you had explicitly said it was a date, but the way Sam kissed your cheek was something you would never forget. Even though you wanted to consider an actual kiss, since it was so close to your lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Samatha Carpenter is a strong woman who takes what she wants in this world, and if she wanted to kiss your lips, she would have done so.

Your phone vibrated with a text message, pulling you away from self-doubt. It was from Sam, telling you that you can come up whenever you would like.

Like an idiot, you wanted to run up the stairs as fast as you could to get to Sam quicker, but you forced yourself to play it cool, to not look like a loser. So, ever so slowly, you began your journey up the six flights of stairs.

Within a few minutes, you were standing outside Sam’s door. You had arrived quicker than you wanted, but the excitement was too much. Then, your mind slowly started to get the better of you as you stared down at your fancy dress-up shoes. You hoped you weren’t overdressed, but if you were, you could easily change into the clothes you kept in Tara’s room. But then what if you were underdressed? How would you fix that? You wouldn’t have enough time to go home and change into something more congenial, and you certainly weren’t going to make Sam change. What if Sam wasn’t even dressing up at all? What if this was just a friendly outing, and you completely fucked it up? What if-

Before you dive further into the scenarios that could play out, the door opened, and all of the air within your lungs left.

“What the fuck are wearing?” You asked with slight irritation in your voice, bewilderment written all over your face.

“What? You don’t like it?” Tara questioned as she spun around in a circle for you. The younger Carpenter sister was wearing a yellow shirt with a pineapple that had on a thong; underneath the fruit was the word ‘slut.’ She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, and when she turned around for you, you saw ‘baby girl’ embroidered on the butt.

“Clearly It’s referring to the pineapple, not you,” you said with a smile before it fully registered what was on the girl’s pants, “Hey, turn back around!” Tara did as you demanded, “If I would have known you were wanting to check on my ass, I would have done some squats first,” she teased with a smirk.

When you reread the word ‘baby girl,’ you scoffed at the more petite girl, “Why are you wearing those?”

“Because it's funny! It’s called having a sense of humor!” Tara shot back before an evil smirk appeared, “Why? Do you want me to take them off? I don’t think Sam would like that too much; she gets territorial over you.”

The comment certainly surprised you, and Tara quickly noticed her mistake. “I didn’t mean that,” she tried to explain, but it was too late.

“What do you mean she ‘gets territorial’ over me?” You questioned, completely forgetting about why you were talking to Tara in the first place as the thought of Sam ran rapidly throughout your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tara replied with a nervous laugh as her eyes darted around the room. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this, and Sam made her swear not to tell anyone. Now, she has broken that promise to the one person who wasn’t supposed to know.

Now, it was a simple mistake that led to Tara finding out about the flirtatious relationship between you and Sam. It was the night Sam kissed your cheek; Tara saw that bright smile on Sam’s lips and how her eyes held so much admiration. She had never seen that look on her sister’s face, and she knew something had happened.

So, like any good sister, she interrogated and terrorized Sam until she finally caved.

Sam only told Tara the bare minimum; you two were going out later in the week to watch a musical together and that you had gotten her a gift a week ago. She didn’t plan on telling Tara that the gift in question was her sobriety treat basket, but when Tara went to grab a water bottle from Sam’s mini fridge, she saw a small box of brownies with your handwriting on a sticky note. “I believe in you :)” was written on it, so Tara asked Sam about it.

Sam told her sister about the gift, but Tara didn’t seem bothered by it. “Oh, yeah. I figured something fruity was going on between you and the biggest homo of the century. But why the fuck did you keep this from me?!” Tara shouted, moving the box around in the air.

“I didn’t think you would want any,” Sam defended with a weak sigh, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

“I would give a strip show to the old people’s home just for a brownie from this place, and you didn’t think I would want any?” She questioned in a slightly more demanding voice before huffing and leaving Sam’s room with the box in hand.

But now, in the current moment, Tara wished she hadn’t opened Sam’s fridge. That annoyingly hopeful smile on your lips drove her insane, not to mention that lovesick look in your eye.

“Stop it, you’re freaking me out,” Tara stated as she made a disgusted face at you. “No. Tell me why you said that,” you pressed on, hoping to get an answer from the younger sister.

“Y/N, what are you hounding her about?” A soft, angelic voice questioned, and your attention immediately shot to Sam. She was wearing a black dress that clutched her curves and somehow made her look even more beautiful if that was even possible. The dress had a plunging neckline, and you had to force your eyes away from her cleavage, earning you a smile of approval from Sam, but an elbow followed by a look of distaste from Tara.

“You look amazing,” you stated breathlessly as your eyes wandered down Sam’s body, admiring the leg slit that showed off her left leg. You prayed for nights when that leg would be wrapped around your head.

“Thank you. You look not so bad either,” Sam replied with a soft smile as she picked up her black clutch bag and walked toward you.

“Have fun on your date,” Tara sneered as she entered her room. Truth be told, she couldn’t have been happier for her sister, but she would rather die than let you know that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled under your breath as your eyes followed Tara before they shot back to the goddess before you. “Are you ready?” You asked, and she gave a curt nod before walking to the door. When you got to the car, you opened the passenger door for Sam, and she thanked you with a soft smile that made your heart explode and your knees weak.

The car ride to the theater was a peaceful one filled with pleasant conversation as you asked Sam about her day and her about yours. Sometimes, you would catch her looking over her shoulder with those soft doe eyes, and you had to fight off any urges to kiss her soft lips.

“Here we are,” you stated as you pulled into the back parking lot of the theater. As you parked the car, Sam observed people leaving their cars, dressed in all kinds of formal clothing, as they made their way into the theater. It took several seconds for it to click in her mind; this was a date.

Of course, she had assumed it might be considered one whenever you asked her, but as she watched the couples get out of their cars and link hands while they all wore fancy clothing, she knew that this was a date. Sam also knew that if she asked you if this was officially a date, she knew that you would deny it. So when you both stepped out of the car and started walking toward the entrance together, she reached out to interlace your fingers with hers.

It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of her hand in yours was enough to warm your cheeks and set your heart afire. You looked at her, only to find that Sam had already been staring at you.

“What?” You asked with a slight smile and a hint of nervousness in your voice. Sam bumped her shoulder into yours, “Nothing, it's just you look beautiful tonight.”

As if your face couldn’t get any redder, you laughed nervously as you looked down at the ground. The compliment threw you off, but you still accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you. And you look beautiful as well, Sam,” you stated.

“I know; you said that earlier,” she teased as she squeezed your hand, “Come on,” she continued as you two walked into the building.

You held open the door for her as you two entered, and then she patiently waited while you got the tickets.

“My lady,” you said as you returned to Sam, sticking out your elbow. “You are such a dork,” she replied, smiling as she locked her elbow around yours and followed your lead. Sam kept quiet as you led her past row after row, but her surprise never stopped until you led her to the third row up front. “Come on,” you stated as you led her down the row toward the middle, “these are our seats.”

“Y/N. How much did these cost?’ Sam questioned as she hesitatingly sat down next to you. “Don’t worry about the price. Money doesn’t mean anything when it comes to memories,” you eagerly replied, which was the truth. You didn’t care about the ticket price; the only thing you cared about was making Sam happy. Sam was someone who found happiness hard to come by, so you devoted your time to try and make her life better, even if that meant putting a massive dent in your credit score.

“I will stab you in the neck with a knife if you don’t tell me how much you spent on these seats,” Sam demanded with a soulless look in her eyes. It was meant to be threatening, maybe it was, but the only thing you could feel toward those dark eyes was a sense of attraction.

“Shhh, it's getting ready to start,” you silenced her, and soon enough, the lights began to dim as the crowd quickly stopped their chatter and turned their focus to the stage. Sam scoffed at you and turned her attention away from you. She wanted to be angry with you for not telling her how much you spent, but she knew that doing that would only ruin this night, which was something she knew you had been looking forward to for longer than you had been leading on.

So, when the curtains opened, she quickly glanced at you. She noticed how your eyes seemed entirely dedicated to the actors on stage and how your lips were curved up in the slightest of a smile. Sam thought you looked the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

Sam moved her hand from her lap to place it in your lap. She turned her hand so that her palm was facing up, and you didn’t have to ask what she wanted; you interlaced your fingers with hers and pulled them further into your lap.

If Sam noticed the way your hands started to sweat, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy focusing on how your thumb was featherlight stroking her hand to concentrate on anything. No one had ever touched her with such softness; she wanted to cry.

When the play finished, and you took her back to her apartment, she couldn’t help but give you a goodnight kiss as a thank you.

Maybe one day you could bask in the sweet taste of her lips on yours. But for now, you would live with her lipstick stain on your cheek, and you would wear it with honor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things had changed between the two of you. They were highly subtle at first: Sam’s eyes looking for you in a crowded room, her fingertips lingering on your hand whenever she handed you your coffee, and she even gave you another rare kiss on the cheek when you brought a very drunk Tara home late one night. Then things started to pick up; she would text you and ask you to pick something up for her and Tara, and when you would drop them off, Sam would ask you to stay for a while. She would always say Tara asked you to stay, but you knew better, even though you never questioned her.

It was one of those nights at the Carpenter’s apartment, movie night with just the three of you. Of course, typical movie nights with the core four plus Anika and you were on Fridays, but the sisters liked having you over just by yourself, as you weren’t nearly as much trouble as the twins. Tara wanted to refer to you as a plant; check in occasionally to make sure you weren’t dead and give you some stuff to keep you from dying.

“Tara, I am not watching ‘The Babadook,’” you stated as you sat on the couch alone. Tara was doing her dad's stance while flipping through movies to watch while Sam was in the kitchen making popcorn.

“Who?” She asked, not even caring to look back at you. “What-” you started to say before the shorter Carpenter cut you off, “Asked?”

“Why do I even hang out with you? All you do is insult me,” you joked as Tara moved to sit beside you. Well, on you. She threw an arm around your shoulder as she got comfortable on your lap. “Because you love me, obviously,” she remarked, still looking for the perfect movie.

Sam knew it was spiritual love, but she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy grow throughout her chest. Especially over her sister! With a slight shake, Sam tried to fight off that feeling as she grabbed the popcorn bags, along with some bowls, and made her way into the living room.

“Just two bags?” Tara questioned once Sam entered the living room. “Yeah, I figured you and Y/n would share. Why; is there a problem?” The older sister questioned with a raised eyebrow as she set the bowls on the coffee table.

“No, it's fine. But I am getting an entire bag for myself,” Tara stated as she left your lap to grab a bag from Sam before moving to the opposite end of the couch. “Looks like you two will have to share,” she added with a sly smile.

You shared a look with Sam, who had slight irritation on her face. She handed you the bag as she spoke, “I’ll go make more.” When Sam moved to head into the kitchen, you quickly grabbed her wrist, stopping her from getting further.

“No, I’m alright with sharing. Only if you are, though,” you said quietly, ignoring the snickering coming from the end of the couch. Sam gave you a small smile as she nodded, sitting beside you on the sofa.

A small laugh left your lips as you looked at Sam’s outfit. “What?” She questioned.

“We are matching,” you responded with a smile as you looked up at Sam, who was already looking at you before she looked at your outfit. It was true; both of you were accidentally wearing practically the same outfit: blue plaid pajama pants with solid black shirts.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Sam said with a smile as her eyes met yours. It was a small moment between the two of you, but it was quickly ruined when the sound of gagging pulled you two from it.

“Please, no homosexual activities in front of my popcorn. I don’t want it forced down my throat,” Tara complained as if she wasn’t someone who also suffered from those homosexual tendencies as well.

Sam cleared her throat as she grabbed one of the bowls and opened the bag of popcorn, pulling all of it into the bowl. “What movie did you pick?” You asked as you kicked your feet onto the coffee table, earning yourself a slight glare from Sam. She wouldn’t classify herself as a neat freak, but she hated it when people put their feet on furniture not used for sitting.

“‘It puts the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose again,’” Tara quoted while throwing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it with her mouth.

“I love that movie so much,” you commented while grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch, covering up your legs as you got comfortable.

“What movie?” Sam questioned as Tara hit play. “‘The Silence of the Lambs.’ It's one of my favorite movies,” you replied with a smile, leaning over to give Tara a quick fist bump for the choice.

“Is this the one with Jodie Foster?”

“Yep,” you and Tara replied simultaneously, earning a small groan from Sam, but she didn’t protest.

Once the movie began, Sam pulled at your blanket and placed some over her lap. You thought nothing of it until you felt Sam’s thigh brush against yours. You guessed it was an accident, but she didn’t move her leg; you relaxed your body and pushed your thigh against hers. You felt your chest flutter at the slight smile on Sam’s face at the contact.

As the movie progressed, the distance between you and Sam slowly became nonexistent. Your shoulders were now touching each other as you shared one blanket. In a moment of braveness, with a little bit of stupidity, you moved your hand underneath the blanket, which was where Sam had been keeping her own. Slowly, your hand inched toward Sam’s, hoping to reach the desired location without Sam pulling her hand away.

When your hand gently grazed Sam’s, the Latina made no effort to pull away, so you took it as a sign to continue. You linked your pinkie with hers and waited. I waited for her to finally realize what you were doing and pull away or glare at you and then ridicule you for such actions. So when Sam did pull her pinkie out of the lock with yours, you tried not to show your disappointment on your face.

But before you could get too comfortable with your sadness, Sam interlaced her fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. It was a small gesture. Some people might even call it friendly, but how your heartbeat quickened at the contact was embarrassing. You only hoped that your fast heart rate and nervousness would cause your palms to sweat. If they did sweat, though, Sam didn’t say anything about it, which you were grateful for.

As the end credits rolled, you let go of Sam’s hand, much to the older woman’s disappointment. You helped Sam clean up the mess made during the movie while you two let Tara sleep peacefully on the couch.

“I can clean those,” you said while walking into the kitchen. Sam was at the sink washing the bowl that you two had used.

“No, it’s okay. I got it,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder at you. “Thank you for staying tonight. I know Tara can be a little shit sometimes.”

You laughed at Sam’s words as you walked over to her, leaning against the counter. “It’s no problem; I love hanging out with you guys,” you genuinely replied, smiling, “Thank you for letting me stay over. I know we haven’t always had the best past.”

At the mention of the one-sided distaste that was formerly between you two, Sam stopped cleaning the bowl. A frown appeared on her lips as she looked down, refusing to meet your piercing gaze.

She took a deep breath before she spoke, “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know. I thought you were only getting close to us so you could tell Gale, but I know better than that now. I’ve been so…closed off to people that my judgment blinded me. I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say.”

To say that Sam’s apology took you aback would be an understatement. You had just assumed that Sam would never own up to how she treated you in the past, opting just to pretend nothing ever happened. But you could tell that she had been working on this apology for a long time, so you appreciated it while you could.

“Thank you, Sam, for apologizing. I won't try to play it down, but it does mean a lot to me,” you said with a soft smile as you looked at the vulnerable woman before you, “but I have to ask. What changed?”

A sigh left Sam’s lips as she turned on the sink, washing out all the soap. She then began drying it off to think about her response. It wasn’t a difficult thing to explain. Well, the logical reasoning for her change of mind about you. But what she was trying to avoid was telling you that she also had a change of heart. Sam had started to enjoy your presence and hated being without you; she yearned for your soft, gentle touches that followed your caring words. She wanted to tell you that she still hates you but cares deeply for you.

Sam dried her hands off as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I honestly don’t know entirely,” she began, “I know my opinion started to change after you brought me that cookie. But I feel like things changed before that, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” you said with a soft laugh, “I think I’ve just gotten so used to you being a dickhead to me that I kind of don’t associate anything else with the way you treat me.”

Sam had to pretend your words didn’t split her heart down the middle; she had to pretend your words didn’t pierce her heart like an ice-cold dagger. She knew she had no business to be hurt by your honesty, but still, she hated being reminded of how things were.

“I am sorry about that. You were there to protect Tara when I wasn’t, and for that, you will always have my gratitude,” Sam stated as she took several moments to decide on what to say next, “Tara told me that while I was gone for those five years, that you took care of her. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” was all you said in a quiet voice, almost as if you were preparing yourself for when Sam started to ask more questions but silently prayed she wouldn’t.

“How bad was it?” The older Carpenter asked with a voice filled with regret. You didn’t have to ask to clarify what she was asking about; you could tell by how her left fist started to clench as she brought her right arm to rub over the median cubital vein in her left arm. She wasn’t asking about how bad the attack was. No, she was asking about how bad Tara’s home life was when she was too high to do anything about it.

“I made sure she wasn’t left home alone,” you admitted. It was the half-truth, and you hoped Sam would accept it, but you knew better. “What was it like when Christina was there?” Sam pressed on.

“Things were okay; nothing was too bad,” you replied, trying your best to sugarcoat the truth.

An awkward, dry chuckle came from Sam as she shook her head, “Don’t lie to me; tell me the truth.”

You debated whether you should spare Sam the details or try to lie to her about how ugly it got sometimes. But fuck it, Sam had been making your life hell for almost a year now, so it's time she found out what you dealt with for five years.

“Christina’s a drunk; everyone knows that. But it got ugly once you left, especially once you left. It was like, maybe three weeks since you had left, and Christina had drank herself into a coma. The only problem was that it was in some European country, and no one back home knew about it. Christina was only supposed to be gone for the weekend and return home by late Sunday. Only, that weekend turned into a week, which then turned into a month.”

You gave Sam several moments to digest everything you told her, waiting for her to object. But when all she did was nod, you continued. “Tara didn’t tell anyone about her mom not coming back, and she only just told me why she didn’t tell anyone about it: she didn’t want people to view her as some monster because her entire family had left her.”

A soft sob came from Sam, and that was when you noticed she had been silently crying. When you moved to comfort her, Sam smacked your hand away from her body. “Keep talking,” she demanded. And you followed your orders.

“I didn’t notice anything different until I heard her stomach growl during lunch. She had been rationing her lunch for weeks, trying to make every piece last as long as possible. School food isn’t the best, but you would have thought Gordon Ramsey had made it how she cherished every bite. By the end of the school day, I finally got Tara to tell me what had happened, and I forced her to stay at my house. I told my mom that she would stay with us for a while, and she didn’t bat an eye; it was like she already knew what had happened but didn’t want to find out. That night, my mom had cooked lasagna; Tara had three full plates of it.”

“She hates lasagna,” Sam said in a choked-up voice. “I know,” you responded with a small laugh, “After that night, I made sure Tara always had something to eat and that she was never alone. But the one time I wasn’t there,” you had trailed off, not being able to finish your sentence without a tear forming in your eye.

Sam knew what you were talking about: the first Ghostface attack. Instead of pushing you away, she reached her arms and grabbed you, pulling you into a hug. It was the first hug you two had ever shared, but it was still the best. The grief you two shared could be felt by each other in that warm embrace, and you both found comfort in each other’s arms, which was something no one had ever made Sam feel.

You two hold on to one another as you both quietly cry over the past, hoping to be free of it with every tear that falls down your face. It was a bonding moment, but it was something you both needed; you two needed to be vulnerable together and for the other one to pick the other up.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled back from. She wiped the remaining tears off your face as she tucked your hair behind your ear and did something unexpected but not unwelcome. Sam leaned forward and placed a small, lingering kiss on your forehead as she quietly muttered, “Thank you.”

Once Sam pulled back, she gently squeezed your shoulders as she left the kitchen. You followed after her, only stopping to watch as Sam picked up a still-sleeping Tara from the couch and returned the gremlin to her bed. While Sam dealt with Tara, you grabbed the blanket you shared with Sam and some pillows to make your ‘bed’ for the night. The couch was comfortable, and you preferred it over sleeping with Tara. As small as she was, she always took up the entire bed.

After you deemed your sleeping quarters right, you went into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Props to being over so much; you had your toothbrush. It was a small gesture from Tara, but it gave you unlimited bragging rights. As you brushed your teeth, you could hear Sam talking to someone. With your curiosity getting the better of you, you peeked into the hallway to see the woman talking to someone on the phone.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had fun going out with you, but I don’t want this to go any further than friendship,” she quietly said into the phone as she paced back and forth. Deciding to give her some space, you stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door before spitting out the toothpaste and then rinsing your mouth with water. You wiped your mouth off with a towel before opening the door and leaving, finding Sam still talking on the phone with a mysterious love interest.

As she continued to talk to the person, you got situated on the couch, but before you could get too comfortable, Sam started to snap her fingers at you.

“What?” You hissed out, staring at the woman growing slightly more agitated as her phone call continued. You noted that Sam had already changed into her pajamas for the night: a loose band t-shirt with a pair of shorts.

“Have a good night; I'll talk to you later,” she abruptly said as she ended the phone call, “Are you seriously sleeping on the couch?”

“Um, yeah? Where else would I sleep? And besides, the couch is comfortable,” you replied as you gave Sam a questioning look. If she was insinuating that you sleep with her in her bed, well, that warranted some questions. But not that you would reject her offer.

“Are you alright with that? I know you usually sleep with Tara, but she might try to fight you if you go in there while she’s already asleep,” Sam said, trying to hide that she wanted to ask you to sleep with her. She found comfort in holding your hand earlier, and she surprisingly enjoyed the depressing conversation you two shared in the kitchen. Sam hated to admit it, but she found herself seeking you out for comfort. Not only the comfort but the fact that you warmed her heart as well; she had started to fall for you most unexpectedly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And besides, she usually ends up taking up the whole bed anyway. I’ll have more space out here than I will with her,” you responded, and Sam couldn’t help but nod at your words. “Yeah, she’s small, but don’t doubt how much space she can take up,” she said in agreement, “But would you like my bed?”

Now, that offer caught you off guard. You hadn’t even considered that Sam might provide you with her entire bed so she could sleep on the couch. As considerate as it might be, you were either sleeping on the sofa or in Sam’s bed with her, no in-betweens.

“No, I can’t take that from you and leave you on the couch. I’m honestly fine on it; don’t even worry about it,” you stated honestly, but Sam only shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t be a good host if I let you sleep out here.”

Neither of you wanted to be the one to offer it up, but you refused even to suggest the idea of sharing a bed. Nope, that was going to have to be something that Sam does, and you would happily wallow around in her swollen pride.

Just as you predicted, Sam swallowed her pride and offered the best solution if it did come with a backhanded offer. “Since you enjoy being difficult and making me feel like a horrible person, would you want to share my bed with me? Just this once?”

When she said the sentence, it didn’t sound as rude as the first one; it sounded a lot nicer, like she was hopeful that it wouldn’t be just this once, that this night would turn into another night, and maybe even the rest of the nights you could share.

“Only if that’s alright with you,” you said in a calm, normal tone as you tried to convince Sam that you weren’t mentally bouncing off the walls. “Sounds good to me. Come on,” she replied as she pulled you up from the couch and led you to her room. Sam dared not let go of your arm the entire walk there.

Once you entered her room, she only dropped your hand as she walked over to her side of the bed. She pulled back the covers as she got in bed, stopping to stare at you. You stood uncomfortably in the middle of the doorway as you looked around Sam’s room.

You felt like you saw a new side of Sam as you admired her room; the walls had old types of vinyl, and a single guitar was hanging from the wall. Along with the guitar, there were some framed movie posters, one being ‘Kill Bill’ that was signed. There was a singular bookshelf that didn’t have a single open spot. A record player was also sitting atop her desk in the corner of her room. How you missed all of these small details when you dropped off the cookies, you had no idea.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned, pulling you out of your mind. “Sorry; I was just looking at your stuff,” you admitted with embarrassment as you walked over to the bed. You halted before getting in as if you were waiting for Sam to change her mind and kick you out suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asks as she leans up in bed, her doe eyes shimmering under the dimly lit light. “No, no. It’s just…,” you faltered on an excuse. You didn’t want to admit that you were nervous about sharing a bed with that goddess of a woman, but you also didn’t want her to think you were disgusted by the thought of sharing a bed with her. “Do you want me to sleep in my street clothes? I have New York on me, and I doubt you want that in your bed.”

With a sigh, Sam exits her warm, comfortable bed to grab you a pair of fresh clothes. She didn’t even bother to ask if you happened to have a spare set here-which you did; she started rifling through her closet.

“Here,” she stated as she handed you a faded shirt before walking to her chest of drawers. Sam opened her top drawer and grabbed a pair of shorts for you.

“Thank you,” you said softly while grabbing the shorts from her, “I’ll change in your bathroom real quick.”

Sam hummed in response as she quickly got back into bed, missing the warmth of it.

After you had changed out of your dirty clothes, you decided to put them in Sam’s hamper—a subtle move at her being able to keep your clothes without offering them.

As you left the bathroom, you were still slightly pulling down your shirt, only showing off the lower portion of your stomach. The skin was only visible briefly, but it caught Sam’s full attention.

The scars that littered your abdomen were scattered, but she could recognize a stab wound from anywhere. The story about Jill Roberts haunted you night and day, so you never told Sam about that nightmare. The only one who had some faint idea about it was Mindy, as she had seen you naked on a few occasions. She never asked about the scars; she felt that asking would have been more intimate and personal than the sex was.

But things were different with Sam; you wanted that intimacy with her. And she liked that intimacy with you. Sam wanted to be able to share every nasty, dark part of her past with you, just as much as she wanted you to tell her your dark past. It was opening up with your pasts that allowed you two to share a possible bright future.

So, she asked you about it. “What happened?”

It was a stupid question, but Sam wanted to know your side. Of course, she was aware of the fact you were involved with the 2011 Ghostface killings, but she wanted to know why you were targeted.

You softly sighed as you climbed into bed next to Sam, who was fully sitting up with her legs crossed as she stared at you, silently encouraging you to trust her. If there was going to be anyone to judge you for your past, it certainly wasn’t going to be Samantha Carpenter.

“Well, I was nine when it happened,” you began, “and I suppose it all boils down to being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You waited several seconds, debating whether you wanted to share this information. It wasn’t a secret; it was out there for the entire world to read about, courtesy of Gale Weathers, an author who turned a tragic story into a multi-million dollar yearly profit.

“Jill was my babysitter. It was after the first few attacks, and she was still babysitting me. She was always nice to me, well, about as nice as she could be. I had been messing around in her room, and I found this camera, so of course, I started to watch what was on it. On it were videos of all of the recent attacks, ruthless shit. Instead of telling her I found it, I hid it in my backpack, and I had planned to bring it to Judy Hicks. Well, Jill finds out that it’s missing and goes ape shit.”

You shifted around in bed as you got more comfortable, opting to fully lay down on your back as Sam propped herself up onto her elbow to engage herself in your traumatizing story fully.

“Anyways, she starts ripping the house apart, turning it inside out and upside down. Of course, she eventually finds it in my backpack, and I don’t even defend myself. I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights. The scariest part about it was that she didn’t even hesitate. One moment, she had my backpack in hand, then the next, she had a knife,” you finished, not wanting to recall the gruesome experience.

Sam was silent momentarily as she thought over what to say to you. She wanted to comfort you, but she didn’t know how. In a way, she felt like your attack had been her fault. Logically, it couldn’t have been, but she felt guilty about it, guilty about her father.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age,” Sam stated. She truly did feel heartbroken for you, but she couldn’t seem to express her sorrow adequately. The only emotion she was good at convening was her anger, a trait she inherited from both her mother and father.

“It is what it is,” you replied with a soft sigh, “Who were you talking to earlier?”

The older Carpenter sister let out a small groan as she fell onto her back, running her hands down her face to add dramatic effect. “It was Danny,” she replied as she interlaced her fingers and placed them on her stomach.

“Oh yeah?” You asked with a teasing tone. Now it was your turn to prop up onto your elbow. “What did he want?”

“He just wanted to go on another date,” Sam responded, to which you huffed. This slight noise got her attention; she turned her head to the side to look at you as if she were studying your facial expressions to try and guess what you were thinking. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Just curious. You seemed annoyed, and you hung up pretty quickly. Just thought you were having a sneaky link I didn’t know about.”

“Oh, please. If I wanted a sneaky link, I certainly wouldn’t let my family know about it,” she joked softly, and your heart erupted. Sam’s smile was rare, even more rare around you. It was as if the angles had parted the sky, and you could catch a glimpse into heaven. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen, but the most teasing one.

“Okay, but be honest: what happened?” You pressed on while clarifying that you respected Sam’s boundaries if she didn’t want to tell you.

“We went on a date. Danny kissed me because he felt something; I didn’t feel anything. He called to ask me on another date; I said no. Simple as that,” she replied with a monotone voice, but you knew there was more to the story.

“Sam,” you said with a soft voice.

“Mhm?”

“I will throw myself out of your window if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam questioned with a voice full of laughter as she smiled from ear to ear.

“Tell me, or I’ll paint the sidewalk red,” you joked with a smile that matched hers.

“I told him no because I don’t want to be with him,” she replied honestly as she stared at you with those dark, doe eyes. You swore you could get lost in that void. “Now, will you leave me alone so I can sleep?”

You scoffed at her but entirely laid down nonetheless. “I guess so,” you grumbled as you rolled onto your side, facing away from Sam.

Sam only laughed at your shitty attempt to pout as she got out of bed to turn off the overhead light. Once she was back in bed, she rolled onto her side to face your back.

Slowly and very hesitantly, she wiggled closer to you, wrapping a loving arm around your waist. Sam didn’t have to wait long before she felt your hand atop hers, pulling her closer to you. Soon enough, her entire front was pressed against your back, and you couldn’t have been happy. Your heart seemed to only beat for Sam, as your entire body started to feel like it was catching on fire.

“You know,” Sam whispered into the dark room, “I listened to Julien Baker the other day.”

“That’s not the one I was talking about,” you responded, not missing a beat.

She scoffed at your weak response, “There’s too many.”

“Girl, there are only three!”

“Whatever,” she mumbled while she pulled you closer into her body as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Sam placed a chaste kiss on your head before slowly drifting off to sleep, with you in her arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The picture frames hung on the walls rattled as the loud, booming sound of music filled the air. Against your will, the twins plus Tara dragged you to a frat party. Drunken college students mixed with obnoxious music was not your cup of tea, but you did enjoy the theme: early 2000s club. From Lady Gaga to Timbaland, even to Beyoncé, it was the first time a party had gotten the music right! There’s nothing wrong with today’s music; they don’t make them like they used to.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Tara offered. Even though she forced you to go out tonight, she still wanted you to have fun without pressuring you to do too much. She could be a little asshole sometimes, but she had her soft moments.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you replied softly. The two of you were sitting together on the only couch that didn't have people either passed out or making out, even though Tara suggested doing either with you.

“Tara, I think you are wonderful and completely captivating, but I do not want your tongue down my throat,” you joked with a soft laugh. The younger Carpenter whined in response as she kicked her feet up into your lap.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s the other Carpenter’s tongue you want,” she teased with a wink as she made a V with her middle and pointer finger, bringing it to her lips while sticking out her tongue.

“What is wrong with you?” You questioned while politely shoving the more petite girl, forcing her to stop. “Oh yeah, how come I found you two wrapped up in each other’s arms then? Mmm?” She pressed.

It was a simple question but an entirely challenging one as well. You needed a place to sleep, so Sam offered to share her bed with you, as it was better than the couch. That part you could explain, but you couldn’t explain why or how you woke to Sam’s face pressed against your chest. It was the first time you had ever felt so loved, so seen. It wasn’t just you who had found so much comfort that night. Sam loved falling asleep to your heartbeat; the drumming sound soon became a lullaby.

“She tried to kill me and forced me to share her bed for warmth,” you stated, but Tara didn’t believe you for a second. “You know, if you would have told me that four months ago, I would have believed you. But now that you have stolen my sister from me and somehow tricked her into falling for you, I don’t believe you.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of Sam falling for you, and your cheeks started to get warm at the thought of Sam recouping your feelings. “She likes me?” You asked with a love-sick smile on your lips.

Tara rolled her eyes at your question and pushed herself off your lap. “I don’t know how you did it, but Sam cares about you. I think she started to go soft on you when you took her to that musical,” she stated as she stuck out her right arm to you. You grabbed onto her hand and allowed the more petite girl to pull you off of the couch, then you followed her into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even know that Sam likes musicals,” you commented as you grabbed a Seagram from the bucket full of ice on the kitchen island. “She loves them more than me. I fully believe Sam would sell me for some ‘Six’ tickets,” Tara remarked as she grabbed a beer.

You laughed at the younger Carpenter comment. Sadly, she wasn’t being dramatic; you now knew the extent of Sam’s love for musicals, and you hated that you agreed with Tara.

“Yeah, I hate that you believe you on that one,” you replied as you followed Tara into the backyard. The two of you sat down together on a swing, drinking in silence as you two silently judged the drunks amongst you.

All in all, it was a nice night to socialize; exams were finished up for the week, and you two needed a break from all of it. It was nice to get out occasionally with friends, even though you preferred drinking the safety net of your own home. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust people. It was that you hated being around drunk people, and you were a homebody. But just when you started relaxing at the party, the universe had to ruin it for you.

It wasn’t anything terrible at first; Tara had left to grab some more beers for the two of you. She was back within a minute, and as she walked toward you, a man grabbed her arm and pulled her into him.

You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you could tell from the anger in Tara’s eyes that it wasn’t anything good. Sometimes, you wondered if the Loomis genes were airborne, due to how quickly Tara got angry and violent.

Before you had any time to react, Tara had taken the beer bottle in her right hand and smashed it against the man’s head, causing him to fall to the ground. You quickly sprang up from your comfortable seat as you rushed over to Tara, now held back by two of your friends from college. You checked over her hands to ensure no glass had gotten in them, and when you deemed her safe, you took her from friends, who then went to check on the man, who was still on the ground.

“Come on,” you mumbled as you dragged Tara from the backyard and into the front yard.

When you two entered the front yard, she shook herself from your grasp and dramatically flung herself onto the ground, sighing in defeat. The air was full of tension as you stared down at the more petite girl, who held her head in shame.

“What happened?” You questioned as you sat down next to her. With a sigh, she wrapped her arm around yours and rested her head on your shoulder. “He’s from my theoretical film studies class. The other day, we had argued about the Harry Potter movies. And-do not fucking laugh at that!” She exclaimed as she playfully smacked your arm once you started to laugh at her.

“I’m sorry, but you two argued over Harry Potter?” You asked with laughter in your voice, “That’s insane!”

“Shut up, no, it's not. Anyways, before I was so rudely interrupted,” she replied with attitude, “the argument was over who was the real bad guy: Dumbledore or Snape. We disagreed, but we didn’t have enough time to discuss it before class ended. Tonight, he stopped me to tell me I was wrong and that he was right, and I kinda got a little angry.”

“‘A little angry?’ You smashed a bottle against his head,” you exclaimed with a look of bewilderment.

“I’m little; my anger fills up my entire body, and sometimes it gets the best of me,” she shrugged as she stood up and held out a hand, “Come on, let's go home.”

You accepted her hand as you followed her home. You didn’t need to ask what she meant by home; you both knew it was the Carpenter’s apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You did what?!” Sam shouted as she stared down you and Tara. The two of you were sitting down on the couch together, sharing shame as you listened to Sam ridicule you. “I let you go out for one night and I promised not to text you the entire time, and you do this? And you,” she then turned her attention toward you, “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

“Sam, I'm so sorry. It happened so quick and I-” you tried to defend but she interrupted you. “You had one job, Y/n. One!”

Sam paced back and forth as she rubbed her temples. This was supposed to be a night of relaxing; she had already had two glasses of wine and ate a little bit too much pasta that was acceptable. Sam even had plans to ask you to stay the night again, that’s why she had the wine; she needed that liquid courage to taste your lips for the first time.

But now, as she went over the possible outcomes of her sister assaulting one of her classmates, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. With a sigh, she dropped her hands and stopped pacing. “Alright,” Sam said in a defeated voice, “I will let it slide, but just this once. Go take your shower, but then you are going to bed.”

Tara was out of the room as soon as Sam said it was okay, not wanting to waste a second as she feared that her sister might change her mind. Tara also wanted to give her sister some alone time with you; she noticed the wine glass on the living room table and she was praying that tonight would be the night the two of you stopped pussyfooting around.

“Sam?” Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and her eyes automatically snapped to you. “What’s up?” She asked.

You stood up from the couch as you approached her. “I’m sorry about tonight. If I would have known that was going to happen, I would have stopped her,” you apologized but Sam was already shaking her head.

“No, it's okay,” she replied as she grabbed her wine glass and finished it off as she walked into the kitchen, with you a few paces behind her.

“Are you sure?” You quietly asked as you awkwardly looked around. “Yeah. Why do you ask?” She questioned as she placed her glass on the counter and looked at you. You could feel her eyes burning into your skin, and you couldn’t help the words that soon poured out of your mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m just worried that you are actually really upset with me but you don’t want to tell me that because you don’t want to upset me. I’m worried that things are different between us now, and I don’t know why I feel that. I’m just terrified I fucked up somehow, and I really really like you, Sam. I’ve worked so hard to gain your trust and now I’m scared I lost it. So, I am so sorry-” she cut off your rambling by cupping your cheeks and pressing her lips against yours.

Your heart automatically started beating quicker as your hands found home on her hips, pulling her closer into you. When you kissed her back, you could have sworn she let out the slightest moan, and it drove your mind insane.

You couldn’t recall her walking toward you, but the only thing that was running through your mind was how soft her lips were; how sweet they tasted mixed with the wine.

The wine.

You quickly pulled away from Sam’s lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do anything while you’ve been drinking,” you apologized, but your eyes darted between Sam’s own eyes and her lips.

With a soft laugh, Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek, something she had found out she loved doing. “It’s okay, Y/N. I really really like you too, and I hope that we could possibly go on another date again soon?” Sam asked with a look of hopefulness, and you had to fight the urge to lean back in.

“You’re also considering the musical a date too?” You questioned with red cheeks. Sam nodded her head with a smile that matched hers, and oh how your heart beat for the woman in front of you. You swore you were love drunk off those lips that you’ve only tasted once, but now that you’ve tasted them, you’re sure that nothing was as sweet.

“Y/N, would you like to stay the night?” Sam asked, “With me?”

“Are you trying to get in my pants?” You teased as you playfully pushed her shoulders, to which she grabbed your hand and pulled you into her.

Sam reached up with her right hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then ran her fingers down the side of your jaw as she admired your features. “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know that,” she admitted as her thumb stroked your jawline, “But I hope over time I can make it up to you fully. I’ve blamed you for things that weren’t your fault and I’m sorry I was that dense. I know you are just following Gale’s writing as a way to forge your own career, and I shouldn’t have blamed you for the book she wrote.”

Sam took a deep breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for how much of a dick I’ve been to you, and I would like to make it up to you,” her voice got quieter as her eyes refused to meet yours, “By hopefully being your girlfriend?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to wrap your mind around what Sam just asked. When her eyes did meet yours, they were holding so much love and hope that you felt your heart explode. Tears welded in your eyes as you cupped her cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss, forgetting about the alcohol in her system.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you mumbled against her lips as you quickly pecked them, “But how much have you had to drink tonight?”

The older Carpenter sister laughed at your comment as she grabbed your hand, pulling you toward her room. “I’m fine, Y/N. I’m sure you and the demon child have had more than me. Besides, I only needed a few drinks to actually make a move on you,” Sam admitted as she opened her bedroom door and dropped your hand, to your disappointment, “But how much have you had?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked over to the vinyl set in Sam’s room and began flipping through them. “I’m fine; a little buzzed but nothing too bad,” you replied.

“Mhm, yeah, you’re not as awkward as you usually are. I don’t like it,” Sam stated as she handed you a clean pair of clothes to change into you. You noticed they were her clothes, and an embarrassing large smile over took your lips as you finally realized that Sam Carpenter was your girlfriend.

You leaned to kiss her, but Sam placed her hands on your shoulders, preventing you from doing so. You gave her a little pout, so to make you feel just a little bit better, she sighed and gave your cheek a kiss. “Go change and get ready for bed,” she quietly commanded you and you did as told.

The clothes fit you perfectly, as if Sam had bought them just for you. There was a toothbrush laying on the sink, still in its packaging, and you knew that Sam had gone out shopping for you tonight.

Walking into the bedroom, you climbed into bed with the older Carpenter, who was sitting upright with her back against the headboard of her bed, reading a book. “Did you buy me a toothbrush today?” You asked as you laid down and scooted closer to Sam, wrapping your arm around her waist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied as placed her bookmark in the book and set it down on the nightstand, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there was a toothbrush that hadn’t been opened yet, and these clothes fit a little bit too nice,” you commented as you watched Sam turn off the bedside lamp and lay down next to you.

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied as she pulled you into her body. Sam brought her hand up to the back of your neck and brought your head close to her chest. You sighed in comfort as you nozzled your head, hoping to get as close as you can to her breasts without making Sam uncomfortable.

Sam placed a kiss on your head as she tightly hugged you, “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight, my lovely girlfriend who used to hate me,” you cheekily replied, earning a laugh from Sam.

“When will you ever let that go?” Sam asked with a slight annoyance in her voice, but you knew she was joking.

“I don’t know, until I’ve deemed that enough time has passed for me to be able to move on,” you replied, “But a goodnight kiss would help.”

The Latina chuckled at your words as the hand that was your head was now cupping your cheeks, pulling you into a loving kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, and you knew that you could never leave them. So when Sam pulled away, you chased after her lips, hoping to taste them for just a second longer.

But she stopped you, much to your disappointment. “In the morning you will give you all of the special treatment you want. But for now, let’s go to bed,” Sam stated in a loving voice, and all you did was nod your agreement. You placed your head back on your chest as you two allowed sleep to overtake you.

When the morning came, you awoke before Sam, greeting her with kisses all over her face and sweet nothings about how much you cherished her as your girlfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x reader #Tara carpenter #wlw

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harryspet · 11 months ago

Note

can u plsss do something where reader keeps noticing dark rafe always looking at her at the gym and then he follows her out one night w noncon 🙏🏾

[warnings] dark!gymbro!rafe x reader, NONCON sex, little editing READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 1.1k

When a brand new gym was built near your apartment complex, you knew you had no excuse but to start going on a regular basis. Despite how scared you were of the gym bros and pilates princesses, you pushed yourself to start. First, you attended the group workout classes to get yourself comfortable. Slowly, you started using all of the other gym equipment.

Once you started going to the gym after work, you got even more comfortable with working out in the presence of others. Sometimes you were even brave enough to start conversations with other girls who were working out by themselves. You still considered it a time for you to decompress, and often, you listened to music or podcasts for the entire time.

As you got into a routine, you started to notice the gym attendees who were always there when you were. You started to differentiate the people you saw on the weekend versus those you saw during the weekends. There was one attendee in particular you began to notice more and more. Whenever you were at the gym, he seemed to be there too. He was always there before you, and he was often still working out when you were leaving.

At first, it wasn’t an irrational thought to believe he spent a lot of time there. His upper body was no laughing matter, in fact, he almost looked dangerous when he was lifting in front of the mirror. Short dark blonde hair and empty blue eyes often greeted you whenever you were trying to mind your own business. At first, you thought it was a coincidence because why would someone like that take an interest in you?

Besides that, he’d never spoken to you. Unsuccessfully, you tried to tune him out. There were always eyes lingering on you while you walked on the treadmill or when you were grabbing weights from the rack. As you grew more comfortable with your body, you started buying cute workout sets, ones that hugged your curves. The staring only increased, making you feel conflicted about your choice.

He was not at all your type. You’d never been with a muscular type of guy, and you’d feel quite intimidated by someone like that. Deliberately, you started wearing jackets and sweatshirts again.

There was a grocery store also near your apartment, and you’d often stop by after your workout. One night, you noticed him standing near the bakery section, gray hoodie over his head, as you were looking through the smoothies in the fresh produce section.

You debated going up to him and just saying hello to put yourself at ease, but when you turned around again, he was gone. You carried your few bags of groceries back to your apartment, listening to one of your favorite podcasts and fantasizing about the relaxing bath you were going to take.

Like always, you used your key fob to enter your apartment. With your arms being occupied, you kicked the door to close it, before heading into the kitchen. When all your groceries were placed on the counter, you took off your headphones, immediately hearing your door click shut. You turned around to see a dark figure standing at the entrance of your door.

You took in a sharp breath and immediately stepped back. As you recognized that hoodie, the horror began to truly set in. When he pulled off the hoodie and revealed those dark eyes, you couldn’t stop the scream that your body released.

As he lunged towards you, your eyes darted to the knife block sitting on the counter. You charged towards the knives as he grabbed ahold of your waist, lifting you away from the counter. Before you could scream again, he pressed his hand into your mouth, muffling the sound.

Desperately, you kicked and bit down on his hand. He groaned as he through you down on your living room couch, “Shit,” He cursed, but he was already pinning you down onto the couch, “Scream, and I-I swear I will kill you.”

He wrapped a strong hand around your throat and pinned your lower body down with the weight of his body, “I’m serious. Before anyone came for you or before anyone could call the police. Do you want to die?” You quieted your strangled cries, staring up at him with teary eyes, “Good. I don’t want to do that. You’re so pretty …I would hate to have to …”

His voice was deep and raspy, only adding to your fear, “Y/N … beautiful angel Y/N … my name is Rafe,” All you could ask yourself was why he would give you his name. Why would he show you his face if he was going to leave you alive. Laying helpless beneath him, you felt your odds dwindling away, “This gorgeous body is all mine, right? You don’t mind if I … see more of it, do you?”

He kept his grip on your neck as he pulled up your sports bra, freeing your breasts. With his free hand, he grabbed and kneaded at the sensitive area. He felt and pinched until your nipples were standing at attention, “I knew you’d have such pretty titties …” You watched his lips pull into a smile, “But you know what? I bet your pussy is even prettier.”

You were caught off guard when Rafe released your neck. As you gasped and struggled for air, he lifted himself off of you, grabbing your waist and pulling your lower half off of the couch. You were bent over the furniture as Rafe again gained control of you, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he pushed you into the furniture.

He was kneeling beside you, his fingers beginning to trace the folds of your pussy through your leggings. You squirmed in his grasp, feeling every detail of his finger through the thin material, “Shit, I need you, baby,” He groaned, “I need you so bad.”

Abruptly, he ripped open your leggings, causing you to beg, “Please, please, don’t.”

“I’m so hard for you; I need you,” You felt even more humiliated when you heard him spit into his hand and as he pressed it into your exposed area. You felt him moving behind you before he held your hips tightly in place, and you felt his tip against your entrance, “You need me too, don’t you? All these weeks I’ve been watching you, you’ve never had anyone over. You need that pretty pussy filled, huh?”

Rafe’s words were hasty, panicked almost, like he truly couldn’t control himself, “Please, Rafe, w-we can take it slow,” You tried, but he began to hush you.

“I’m sorry,” You heard him say as he pushed into you; your body did its best to stretch around him, “I’m so sorry, I …I have to have you, baby.”

send dark rafe ideas

#send dark!rafe thoughts #darkfic #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron

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nkogneatho · 5 months ago

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Pasiiii new mission!! It’s up to you babes to prove Kafka is really human by letting him knock you up while in Kaiju form 😩 are you up for the task? 🫡

you already know the answer because you're talking to a certified monsterfucker kali!!

kafka is so scared he will hurt you when you ask him for such an unhinged request. what do you mean you want to fuck him in his kaiju form and get bred? does he even have a dick in that form? can he even cum? but your doe eyes are looking at him with so much hope, that he cannot turn you down.

kafka transforms at his will like he normally would. but he doesn't know the lengths of his own powers. kaijus do have reproductive organs but they are nothing like human ones. kafka doesn't even where to start or what to do but when you're laying down in front of him all naked, legs apart as juices glisten your pussy, his inner urges immediately react to his form and just like that, a huge dick forms between his legs, all bonered up. yeah it makes sense for him to have a normal reproductive organ because he is a humanoid kaiju.

you gasp so loud when you see a smoke gray cock with a white tip. it's unlike anything you've ever witnessed. kafka thinks you're finally grossed out but you reach a hand, stroking his monster cock. you look up at him and say "hurry, kafka. need it inside me. please."

that is where he loses it. all his morals vanishing in thin air before he slaps the cock on your cunt, lubing his tip in your wetness as he pushes in. you cry in pain at first because of the unfamiliar feeling. it looks lika human dick but it's not. the texture of the skin is different. the boner feels harder yet flexible because it is hitting your right spots as he moves. is kafka aware of how good he is making you feel?

"ngh. tell me if it's too much, baby."

"nuh-uh." you nod your head. "want more, kafka. want you to fuck me till i am pregnant. want your cum inside me."

fuck you're going to be awarded by the nation for killing kaiju no. 8 if you keep saying these stuff.

"ah!" he moans. "what am i going to do with you, my pretty baby. i don't even know if i can cum."

"y-you can. mhmm. you're a human inside, no matter what." you boost his ego so much that he fucks you till you're cumming for the nth time. the form has increased his stamina. you're being manhandled in all different positions. he is nowhere near his climax. but you say this one thing that has him spilling his warm cum in you in a millisecond.

"how good will i look with your baby inside me, kafka?" and he is cumming. more than ever. images of you all round with his baby in you has him messed up. fuck. good? you look fucking amazing. you're glowing. you're more needy on his mind. so he doesn't even think and give in to his instincts and knock you up like you deserve it. when he pulls out, your hole is dripping white gooey stuff but it's so much more than he normally cums. you're sure you're knocked up already.

his eyes are still not off your pretty pussy, only made him hard again.

"can we go again, sweetheart?"

#KALI OMG I WAS RUBBING ONE PUT THINKING ABT THIS. HE IS JUST SOOOO PRIMAL WHEN IT COMES TO BREEDING #kafka hibino #kafka x reader #kafka x you #kafka smut #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 smut #kafka hibino x reader #kali♡#soulmoots.°•♡#tw.breeding

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murdrdocs · 1 year ago

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INTERVIEW 002

with. stiles stilinski

includes. sub!stiles, fem!reader, thigh riding, begging, implied switch!stiles, pet names towards stiles (good boy, etc.)

→ kinktober masterlist

He should be more embarrassed than he is.

His hands digging into the thin tee you wear, head buried in your neck, soft pants escaping his kiss swollen lips as his eyebrows push together. He bares his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath as the pain caused by absence of pleasure seems to set in with increased intensity, pearly whites pressing down into the plush of his bottom lip instead of the skin of your neck like he’d originally wanted, his pathetic sounds still masked enough to lessen any shame.

Stiles’ current state wouldn’t be as shocking nor entertaining as it is if he were sheathed fully inside of you. If his hips were canting up into yours without the layers of separation. If he were chasing a high that was clear to him, a high he could clearly see off in the horizon.

Instead, he’s chasing something he has barely gotten a taste of.

The previous feeling of your clothed crotch grinding against his, nearly equal in attire, has started to fade, leaving nothing but phantom desires for Stiles to attempt to grasp onto. Because it’s the only amount of friction he’s received thus far, nothing but a few pity grinds against his cock from you, a soft pout on your lips as you held his face in your hands, cooing down at him in a way that let Stiles know that you had the upper hand.

As if he could even begin to forget that simple aspect.

He’d been at your mercy the entire night, obliging no matter what, bending to your will with little to no hesitation settled within his body. He thought that if he did what you asked of him, obeying your wishes and commands as part of a previously set verbal bet between the two of you that he wouldn’t be able to do so, you would satisfy him. He thought that if he was your "good boy", as you’d prettily called him just a few moments ago, you would stop your torture and impale yourself on his dick until he was spurting blanks up into you, the previous remains of his cum leaking out as you would bounce like there was no tomorrow.

You did the opposite. Forbidding him from slipping off his sweats, not even lenient enough to slide off your panties and grace him with a look of your slick brushing along the gray material, darkening it with your arousal. Instead, you remained with them on, your bra covering your tits as well, leaving Stiles to stare at the way your nipples perked through the thin material, filling in the blanks of the expanses he’s seen many times before.

Noticing his eyeline, you giggle, the sound light and pretty from your lips. Stiles’ eyes flick up, he meets your gaze for a second, and the smile he gives you is dopey. It’s reminiscent of the one he lets out when he’s drunk, a slight stumble to his step and his hands a magnet to your body even with the slightly unassured way they find your skin.

His palms are the opposite now, sure and steady along your hips and waist and thighs as you drag yourself along his muscled thigh. He’s taking advantage of your lack of care with this particular aspect, your allowance of calloused hands along your pure skin feeling like a holy blessing in Stiles’ hazy mind.

He licks his lips, stares up at you, and you throw your head back, your hands pressing harshly into Stiles’ shoulders as the drag of your hips back and forth speed up just a little. Feeling slightly bold, Stiles slides a hand up to your tit, palm encapsulating it easily, the other sliding down to your hip where he grips with enough pressure to start to control your movements just a little.

Instead of swatting his hands away, you let him continue, allowing Stiles to manipulate your pace.

His thumb slides over your nipple, pointer finger adding itself into the mix as he pinches the bud with just enough pressure to have your lower lip rolling between your teeth.

“You close?” he asks, voice raspier than either of you expected.

You nod, brows pushing together, focusing too much on reaching your peak to attempt to take the control back from Stiles before he can get too acquainted. But he doesn’t want control. He likes submitting like this, providing assistance instead of authority, aiding you towards your peak instead of pushing you towards it.

One of your hands clasps around Stiles’ wrist, the other digging into his hair, nails scratching deliciously at his scalp. His eyes roll back, he takes a deep breath to steady himself, pushing his hips back down as soon as they start to tilt upwards towards you.

“Need you to cum, sweetheart. Then I can fuck you, right?” You nod, enthusiastic, clearly anticipating what comes next as much as Stiles is. “Then cum for me, please, baby. I need to fuck you so bad. Please. Just let go.”

#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #stilestobr!#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stilesworld!#stiles stilinski smut #kinktober 2023 #teen wolf smut

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peachdues · 1 year ago

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horny posting some more Levi content from Coalescence because I haven’t written in a hot minute but this man makes me feral.

Enjoy a look at Levi cracking the headboard with his hands

The Captain braced his hands against the headboard, his fingers digging harshly into the wooden grain as he desperately fought to keep the leash of his self-control under grip.

You moaned beneath him and stretched up, pressing those pretty lips against his pectoral — right over his nipple — before kissing across his chest to repeat the action on the other. Your movements caused the walls of your core to flex, your silken heat contracting around his rigid length to the point of pain.

It was too much; every instinct within him was screaming to fuck you senseless into the bed, until you were nothing more than a blubbering, pleading mess; your brain a puddle of gray matter, utterly liquified by the pleasure he gave you.

Levi’s grip on the headboard grew stronger, the muscles in his forearms rippling as it creaked under his strain. With a few, pointed, hard thrusts of his hips against yours that were beyond his control, Levi’s hold on the wood tightened until a sharp crack sliced clean through the sounds of your mutual pants and ragged moans.

“W-what…?” Your voice was high pitched and unsteady as you were pulled from the throes of your ecstasy by the noise, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Levi’s pace only increased. “Ignore it,” he grunted. “Fuck — I can’t slow down, Y/N —“

Your legs around his waist tightened. “Then don’t,” you begged, sliding one hand from where it had been resting against his upper back down until you reached his backside, digging your fingers into the steel-like muscle to press him harder into you.

“Please, Levi,” you moaned, and your other hand found his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Please, Captain — I need more.”

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan fic #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #aot smut #captain levi x reader #levi smut #levi x reader #aot fic #aot fanfiction #aot x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤ❤︎ 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

ㅤjavier peña x plus size f!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers/fwb, minors dni

word count: 4.5k

summary: it's the 80s. when the dig you've been working at has to take a short break due to escobar and politics, you decide to wait it out at medellín. while hitchhiking, a charming stranger pulls up.

warnings: mild weed usage (reader), car sex, nipple play, dirty talk, dry humping, age gap, piv, creampie, unprotected sex, brat taming if you squint, some weight-related insecurities if you squint but mostly she's just vibing and living her life

a/n: i would really consider writing more of this so please let me know what you think! a special shoutout to @inklore because i feel like i wouldn't think about hitchhiker smut on the bus if it wasn't for her fic roadside delight which all of you should go and read rn because it's amazing, ily bby 💗

**dividers by the amazing @saradika xx

Raindrops land sparsely over your skin, most of the wetness caught over your cheeks. Sliding down your neck, they sneak beneath the sweetheart neckline of your olive green dress. The skirt dances with the wind, teasing the inner curves of your thighs as it playfully flutters in your wake. Despite the rain, it’s still warm. However, that doesn’t stop the chill of the gray clouds from settling over your skin. With a deep sigh, you lift your thumb once more.

You have no idea how long you’ve had your thumb sticking up; maybe it’s been only ten minutes or an hour, regardless, you’re frustrated and want the wait to end.

Some cars had slowed down but upon seeing the men that were driving, you had quickly hidden your thumb away. You knew what they were thinking. Thanks to the rain, there was only little left to the imagination. The dress that already hugged your breasts and hips hugged you even tighter now, the fabric almost sheer as it exposed your tight nipples. You should’ve brought a jacket with you but honestly, how were you supposed to know it was going to rain today?

“Fucking hell,” you mutter, pushing your wet hair away from your neck in frustration. Not a single car in sight after what you thought had been at least ten minutes of waiting. Clicking your tongue, you reach into your bag, retrieving a lighter and a joint thoughtfully rolled by one of your colleagues at the excavation site. It was greatly appreciated since you weren’t the best at rolling.

Taking a drag, you sigh, the smoke mingling with the misty air. The excavation site had declared a short break due to some unforeseen issue related to the escalating Escobar problem in the region. It's hush-hush among the team, but you've caught snippets of worried conversations about increased security concerns and the need to lay low for a while.

Your shoulders relax as the smoke swirls in your lungs, your body now feeling rejuvenated instead of cold under the rain. In the distance, you hear the soft hum of a car approaching and narrow your eyes as you look at the distance. Your eyes light up when you see a car approaching and this time, no matter who’s in it, you promise yourself you’ll just get in.

The cigarette still between your lips, you lift your thumb with enthusiasm, taking a step further into the road, you giggle slightly thinking you might just as well jump in front of it to make it stop. You want to get out of the rain, want warm clothes and blankets.

The car comes to a smooth halt.

You lean towards the already open window, you quickly pluck the join away from your lips and smile broadly at the dark-haired stranger.

“Hola,” you say, hoping your accent is decent enough. “¿podrías darme un aventón?”

The stranger gives you a curious look, his lips curl upward, eyes dropping to your cleavage before lifting them back up to meet your gaze. Your breath catches in your throat, chest heaving at the sight of him. He’s beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, plump lips. Blinking, you swallow and press your legs together, thankful he can’t see it.

“Where you headed?” he asks.

“Medellín,” A timid chuckle escapes your lips. “Did my accent give it away?”

“A little,” he jerks his head to the side. “Hop in. You must be freezing like that.”

Grateful, you open the car and slide yourself inside. Warmth immediately envelops you like a cozy blanket and you sigh happily, leaning into the comfort of the seat. “Thanks,” you say, offering your name along with it. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Javier. But you can call me Javi.”

“I think I’ll stick to Javier, I like the way it hits my tongue.”

He grins, “Do you, now?”

It takes you everything to ignore the delicious roll of his tongue and how it would feel on your skin. You lift your hand suddenly, the joint visible between your fingers.

“Is it okay if I smoke this in your car?”

He looks confused for a brief moment. You notice him taking in deep breaths, sniffing the air, his eyes go slightly wide with realization but then the surprise in his eyes molds into amusement.

“Go ahead,” he says. “You’re awfully bold to ask that without knowing who I am or what I do. What if I was a cop?”

“Cops don’t look as good as you do.”

Shit.

“I look good?”

You hear the mirth in his voice and quickly change the subject, “You want one?”

“No,” he answers firmly. Confusion furrows your brow and his tone quickly softens. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan. And it’s illegal.”

“Oh, sorry. I can put it out, you don’t have to be nice about it.”

He thinks about it for a while but shakes his head. “You don’t have much of it left anyway,” The car starts moving and you look at the spot you’ve been waiting at for god knows how long one last time. Good riddance. “So, Medellín, what business do you have there?”

“No business,” you answer promptly, taking another drag. You blow the smoke out the window, the wind whisking it away. “I’m studying archeology. I was doing research at Ciudad Perdida but we had to take a break for safety reasons. We might still go on so until I get a firm ‘go back home’ I was thinking to wait it out there.”

“It’s not really safe there either, you know. You gotta be careful when you get there,” he gives you a side glance, eyes moving up and down your curves. Your heart rate escalates and when you press your legs together once more, it doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re awfully squirmy there,” he says, voice low and all gravel. “You okay?”

Your veins buzzing, you throw the remainder of the joint out the window. Your head is swimming pleasantly, the smoke loosening your tongue and making you eager to confess all the dirty things you want to do with him. But along with that, uncertainty creeps in. You don’t even know if he wants you that way. He seems older than you. He might’ve just been looking after you and the lust you heard in his deep voice might’ve just been in your imagination.

“I’m not squirming,” you say quickly. He doesn’t look convinced by your answer, hands tightening around the steering wheel. “How long until we get there?”

“A couple of hours,” his eyes catch your lingering gaze and he smiles. “There’s a gas station a little ahead so I suggest you go to the bathroom, sweetheart. If you have to go.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You hungry?”

Your hand wanders to your stomach, you can’t tell if he’s asking because of your appearance or if it’s a genuine question. He speaks up before you can decide. “I’m starving,” he says. “I also need to buy a pack so if you want anything just tell me. I’ll pay.”

“I have money.”

He laughs at that, and laughs even harder at your pout, “You’re a student in Colombia, hitchhiking. I doubt you have much,” he shrugs. “Besides, you’re a guest in this country, let me treat you.”

“You’re being awfully nice.”

“Am I? I don’t think so.” You see the gas station coming into view. “But mamá always did say I had a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“You think I’m pretty?” you answer, hoping to have more a sultry tone but your words come out breathless. Excited.

The car slows, his eyes are glued to your neck, he slowly moves them down. His dark gaze eating you up. You can almost feel it caressing your skin, heating you, and licking over the waterdrops that stubbornly remains on your skin.

“Don’t say it like you don’t already know.” The car stops along with your breath. He pulls the keys out and leans close, lips almost touching your pulse. You feel his breath on your ear, warm, it coaxes goosebumps to rise across your skin. His eyes trail over the curve of your lips. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, “No.”

His lips touch your cheek. It happens so quickly that you feel you might’ve imagined it. The rough hairs above his lip tickle your skin and you instinctively chase the heat of him as he moves away.

Before you know it he’s out of the car, the patch of skin where his lips touched still burning with delight. Stunned, you touch your cheek with the tips of your fingers.

Maybe waiting in the rain for someone like him wasn’t so bad after all.

You should’ve known it would end up like this.

Him, to park the car in a semi-remote spot.

You, to cradle his lap, your dress pushed up all the way up exposing your soft thighs with his hands all over you.

You should’ve known.

The soft pitter patters of rain hit the top of the car, you’re too occupied by his mouth to realize the sun had slowly started to peek through the clouds, warming the damp concrete. Javier’s tongue is awfully skillful. He slips his tongue between your lips, licking himself deeper into your mouth, his hands pull at your neckline, exposing your bare breasts. He flattens his palms against them, your nipples tighten against the heat of his palm.

He breaks away with a groan, “I knew you were braless,” he rasps, dipping to your neck. “I fucking knew it.”

“And I knew you were staring,” you tease and expose more of your neck. He nips at the tender skin playfully, a shiver runs up your spine. “Here I thought you picked me up out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“No—god, no. I don’t ever want you to stop.”

And that’s all he needs to hear as he lifts your breasts towards his mouth. He dips his head, swirling his tongue over the pebbled flesh. Your body seizes. Your breath caught in your lungs, burning like wildfire. He twists the other with his finger and you moan loudly. The fabric of your underwear grows damp, sticking to your skin. He sucks harder. The thick outline of his cock rubs against your core, a feeling like electricity shooting up your spine, your head falls and he bites.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you whimper, grinding down. Another wave of arousal washes over you, the effect of the weed you inhaled pounding between your thighs.

Javier glares up at you, “Such a dirty mouth,” he grunts and holds your tongue between two fingers. Your brows furrow with pleasure, the hard denim of his pants growing damp thanks to you. “I don’t like bad girls. And you seem to be walking on the edge of it, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m not bad,” you whimper, your words slurring thanks to his hold on your tongue. He lifts a brow, unconvinced. You don’t know why you’re hurt by him calling you bad, but you want to make it up to him—why you do, you have no idea. “I’ll. . . I’ll be good.”

“Promise?”

You only nod and he pinches your tongue, pain blossoms over the soft muscle.

“Promise,” you slur. “I’ll be your good girl.”

Satisfied for now, he releases your tongue and brings his hand back to your aching nipples. He sucks on one while pinching the other, both sensations making your mind whirl.

“You like it when I play with your tits, hermosa?” he groans at the way you rolls your hips, pulling away his lips, he starts playing with both with his fingers. Twisting, pinching, and pulling. You’re trembling. A sopping, wet mess. “So sensitive. You think you can come like this?”

You only moan, your lids fluttering like a butterfly’s wings as you look at him. He smiles, something dark crossing over his handsome features. “I think you can,” he says. “Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

Slack-jawed, you answer, “Y–Yes.”

Javier guides the sloppy roll of your hips. His mouth on your neck, he teases the flesh there while mercilessly playing with your tits however he sees fit. Your nipples are so hard from stimulation it almost hurts, Every twist of his fingers prompts a fresh wave of arousal seep into your underwear. Your body is out of control. Burning from the inside out. You’ve never felt it this intense before, never felt your orgasm nearing so viciously.

His lips hover an inch away from yours, you part your mouth for a kiss but he smiles cruelly, you can smell the hints of tobacco when he speaks, “I can feel how soaked you are, baby. So wet and all for a stranger you just met,” he nips at your chin, gives your nipples a hard pinch that makes you see white. “I wonder if you’d do this with all the others who would’ve stopped for you?”

“Others did slow down,” you say followed up by an elongated whine. Javier thrusts his hips, the rough denim of his pants catching against your clothed clit. He licks your bottom lip. “But they gave me a weird feeling so I hid away my hand. So. . . I wouldn’t do this with just anyone.”

“Fuck, preciosa, you’re saying all the right things,” with one hand, he slides your dress up further, fingers teasing your slit. “It’s an honor to have this cunt all to myself.”

Only then does he kiss you. It’s hungry, depraved. He sucks on your tongue, presses his lips hard into yours. The hand toying with your core moves to your hip, he squeezes your love handle, tugs you down as he thrusts his hips into the air. You cry out and he swallows the wanton sounds that rattle your throat.

“That’s it, come for me,” he purrs, his hips pressing into yours. You grind down helplessly, aching to feel the hardness of him. Your ears begin to ring. Your body tingling and tensing while the taste of your nearing release stains your tongue. Your eyelids flutter closed, his lips once again drawing an aching nipple into his mouth. He sucks and sucks and sucks—and you finally break down, gushing and squeezing around nothing. You feel the wetness bleeding into the fabric, your legs shaking around where they frame his narrow hips, your head falls over and the soft locks of his hair soothe your burning cheeks.

Javier is still moving against you. His cock painfully strained against his zipper, coated in your slick. Both his hands drop to your waist, squeezing as he finds your lips, giving you a tender kiss.

He doesn’t say a word, his hand sneaking between your legs, he slips them under the elastic and pushes two between your folds. You swear you feel his cock throb when he realizes how wet you truly are.

“Shit,” he breathes out. “Fuck, you really did come. Such a good girl,” he lifts your head by the chin and stares into your eyes, your pulse races again. “Good girl,” he repeats, watching as your lips tighten and eyes go wide. “You feel so good on top of me, making a mess out of these shitty pants. You come so pretty, querida.”

“Javier,” you moan, your nipples tightening again.

He pulls his fingers out out and tastes you in earnest, he moans around his fingers, “So sweet.”

You moan again, the fire between your legs roaring to life. He cups your breasts and pushes them towards you, watching the way your eyes roll, “Let me fuck you in the backseat,” he says, as if you would ever say no to that. “I wanna see this ass bouncing on my cock.”

No one ever mentions how awkward car sex can be, especially when you need to move around.

You try not to show it to Javier but you have a sneaking suspicion your face is basically an open book. He slides to the back first, moving between the middle of the front seats. Moving around in a car already makes you awkward, it’s even worse when your tits are out in the open, moving side to side.

But you guess it can’t be too bad since Javier is staring at them instead of you.

“Is it bad that I want to play with them some more?” he chuckles.

“Definitely not,” you smile back, the light-hearted conversation gives you the courage to finally move between the seats. He quickly slides to the side, his lips on yours before you can even sit. He strokes his cock through his jeans, tongue dancing along yours, he sucks the air from your lungs.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, watching, he unbuttons his jeans. You strip quickly, your body already aching to feel him deep inside you. He hums with approval when you’re bare to him, he doesn’t bother taking off his clothes, instead, he slightly pushes down his pants and frees his cock.

A bead of precome glistens at the head, the head of his cock swollen, a hint of red adding color. He’s thick enough to have your pussy already throbbing. Your mouth waters. Javier wraps a hand around his length and pumps it under your lustful gaze, more precome gathers at the slit, slowly trickling down the side. Your breath hitches when you notice him smiling.

“You want a taste?”

You immediately lean down with your tongue out, sucking the tip, you clean him and push yourself further down. Your lips stretch around him deliciously.

Javier doesn’t allow you to taste him further though, with his hand on your nape, he squeezes, “If you do that I’ll come in seconds.” You look up to him between lowered lashes. “And I’d rather come somewhere else, preciosa.”

“How do you want me?” you ask, voice horse.

“On all fours.”

Again, a bit tricky because you have the constant fear your leg is going to slip and you’re going to fall, but the backseat is comfortable enough for that not to happen. His hands slide up your back and he holds you by the shoulders, bringing you close. His cock pushes between your thighs, parting your folds, your slick wets his cock, making the glide easier.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping dangerously. “Anyone could see us right now. Anyone who decides to drive by is gonna see us fucking.”

You don’t expect yourself to clench at his words but you do, a soft whimper echoing from your lips. You can’t see it, but you know he’s smiling from ear to ear. “Does that turn you on, hermosa?” When you don’t answer, he leans closer, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Don’t worry, it turns me on too.”

Pushing the tip of his cock into you, your chest begins to move with labored breaths. He buries himself to the hilt with ease. A loud moan escapes his lips as his hips are snug over your ass. Your elbows give way, your head dropping to the leather sheets. It feels too good, too full, too intense. Your body breaks in sweat, your body fluttering around and clamping desperately around his cock. His hands follow the curve of your back, laying on top of each ass cheek.

“Love this ass,” he mutters. “Are you alright? Can I move?”

“Y–Yeah,” you choke out, desperate. Javier begins to move. Slowly pulling back his hips, he slams into you, ripping a moan from your chest. The leather seats creak as he thrusts into you, his pace gradually picking up. Each time he snaps his hips forward, you feel like your world is spinning. He grips onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pounds into you.

“Come on, sweetheart, push those hips back. Prove to me how good you’re feeling on my cock.”

All coherent thoughts leave your mind as you surrender yourself to the sensations. You meet his thrusts halfway, your body screaming at how deep he is. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, your hard nipples grazing against the leather, it adds to your pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the car. He leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck as he groans your name.

You can feel the tension building up inside you, your body on fire. The coil in your stomach tightens, your legs starting to quiver, you gasp his name, barely able to breathe. “Come on my cock,” he commands, licking the start of your spine. Arousal pours between your legs, slick trickling down his cock. “Show me how good you are—”

You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around him. Your breathing is caught in your throat. You roll your hips desperately, begging him to fuck you harder, god deeper—he does. He hammers into you, groaning over and over about how much of a good girl you are. His praise short circuits your brain and another orgasm washes over you, softer this time, but still powerful, enough to have you dripping over the seats.

Javier continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release. With one final deep thrust, he spills himself inside you, his body shuddering. He grinds his hips, pushing himself deeper until he’s dripping from where he stretches you. You moan his name, your lips moving against the leather.

Both of you collapse onto the seats, panting heavily as you try to catch your breath. Javier hugs you tight and pulls you up until you’re draped over his chest. You feel pleasantly lifeless, your lids heavy. He strokes your damp hair, fingers grazing over your cheek, he kisses your forehead. The gesture makes your heart swell.

“Mi preciosa, eso fue increíble, fuiste increíble.”

His words were said heavily as if he was barely keeping himself from falling asleep. You smile, burrowing yourself into his neck, you focus on the sweetness of the fleeting moment and not the come dripping out from between your legs.

“You were the one that was incredible,” you sigh happily. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good in my life.”

“Let’s just say it was a team effort then,” he grins but his smile quickly falters. “How the hell am I supposed to drive now, I need a nap.”

“We could. . .”

He sighs, “Sadly, I have work I need to get to.”

“You never did tell me what you did for a living,” you muse. “Care to share?”

His grin is back, lips curling mischievously, he looks you up and down. Your body shudders at the heat of his gaze.

“We were busy doing other things,” he quickly gives you a peck on the cheek and reaches for your dress. “I’ll tell you later.”

You pout a bit but shrug it off quickly as you take your dress. To each his own. If he wants to keep his job a secret, that’s fine. You just met him after all. And you’ll probably never see him again after you reach Medellín.

The thought sours your mood. Turns your stomach. You don’t want to think about that. You don’t want to think about the end. You always did get attached too easily.

With a sigh, you put on your dress and watch as Javier slides back to the front. You still have a couple more hours with him, you might as well make the best of it.

The ride had been a pleasant one. You’re pretty sure you talked the poor man’s ear off but he talked a bunch too, telling you about his father, his hobbies—which weren’t a lot—and his dislikes about the city. You had listened with rapt attention, eating up every last detail. But still, you had no idea what he did for a living and refused to ask, not wanting to pry.

Almost at Medellín, you notice a checkpoint ahead. Your eyes narrow for a better look and groan, these guys meant business, especially when cartels were on the rise. No matter how many times you batted your eyes, you know your bag is going to get checked along with Javier’s belongings.

“Oh no,” you mutter, prompting Javier’s eyes to shift from the highway to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“I still have a couple of joints in my bag. If they search it I’m toast. They won’t let me go back.”

You’re not sure why but he smiles, did he know the checkpoint would be here? Your heart drops and stomach lurches.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, then he winks for good measure. “Trust me, querida. You won’t get into trouble.”

You have your doubts but nod and lean back anyway. The car slows down as you approach the checkpoint, and you can feel the tension building up inside you. Javier pulls the car to a stop, and a stern-looking man walks up to Javier. The officer’s gaze lingers on you before turning to Javier.

“Documentos e identificación.”

“Hola,” he greets along with a short nod. “Soy Javier Peña, de la DEA. Estamos de paso.”

Your eyes grow wide when Javier shows his badge to the officer, your jaw nearly drops, blood rushing to your ears. You desperately have the urge to shake your head and yank the badge out of the officer’s hands to inspect it yourself. To feel it under your fingers.

The officer nods and motions to the others to let you through, “Adelante, buen viaje.”

The car starts to move again and finally—finally, you allow your jaw to drop.

“You’re DEA?” you ask, upper body rising up from your seat, your tone shrill. Javier doesn’t say anything but he does nod, eyes never leaving the road. “Oh my god,” you say. “Oh my god—why. . why didn’t you tell me? I—I smoked weed in your car! You could’ve arrested me at any given point—I. . . I—” I fucked a DEA agent.

You drop back down, defeated.

“You don’t need to worry about me arresting you,” he answers, smiling. “I would’ve if you were a threat but. . . I think we established that you aren’t.”

“A bunch of criminals fuck with agents you know,” you snap, weirdly offended. “Just because we did it doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous.”

“Do you want me to arrest you, hermosa?”

Cuffs do sound tempting but you aren’t playing that game right now, “No. . .”

“Good, we’re on the same page then,” he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. “My intention wasn’t to trick you or anything. You already seemed miserable under the rain, waiting for that long. I didn’t want to stress you further. And you can’t really blame me for thinking like that when the second sentence you said was ‘do you want a joint’ you would’ve freaked out. Am I wrong?”

“No,” you say, clearer this time. “I still feel embarrassed though.”

“You’ll live.” Finally entering the city, he turns to you, meeting your gaze. It’s a bit ill-advised since he’s driving but you appreciate having his full attention. “Where should I drop you off?”

Oh.

“I. . actually don’t know. Do you know any good places to stay? A room I can book on short notice?”

“You don’t have a place to stay?”

“I’m a girl who was hitchhiking through a country I don’t know. Do I look like someone with a plan?”

“Fair enough,” he says, eyes turning back to the road. “Well, this is going to sound weird but you can stay with me if you want to.” Before you can answer, he adds. “I have a spare room.”

Saying yes is easier than you thought.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfic #narcos fanfic #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 months ago

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The beast of Mordor

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞

Mordor has monsters, and no one was stupid enough to cross its borders, right?

What can I say, the discord said Beauty and the Beast and it kinda went unhinged from there on.

The woods were unsafe ever since the mountain spewed fire and darkened the sky. Never in your long life had you seen a land so gray.

You knew it to be the middle of the day as you left at first light in your own lands not too far off the reclaimed lands now named Mordor.

The woods were unsafe but you would never travel around its vast area only to fetch products on the other side where your merchant friend had settled.

With sword and dagger you traveled light, on foot as horses were too loud and would alert the monsters hiding in the shadows. Nocturnal beasts, deformed and bloodthirsty. Or, at least that's what the stories said. No one had ever met a beast and lived.

Deep in thought your calculated steps faltered and something snapped under your foot, the sound ringing out throughout the forest.

You froze at the noise, dagger up in defense as you took in your surroundings.

Nothing.

It looked like you were truly alone in the area and took up your pace, moving on to be out of the woods as quick as possible.

You had been walking nonstop ever since you broke the branch, the panic never really leaving causing you to forget to keep track of your directions.

You had no idea where you were.

You were lost in cursed lands with no way of backtracking or seeking out the sun to figure out your location.

Fear rose in your chest, its grasp constricting your airways as a soft faltering gasp left your lips and tears started brimming your eyes. In all your ages you had never felt fear like this.

Until a noise caught your ears.

It was everywhere around you. A low rumbling sound. Gutteral and deep, raising the hairs in your neck as you drew sword and dagger in defense once more.

The sound worsened before it died down, being followed by a voice speaking in an unknown tongue, distorted by evil itself.

Fear crept so far inside you you hadn't even noticed the fog had thickened in these parts of the woods. No matter where you looked, all around you were tones of gray. Ashen lands shrouded in a thick fog that forced itself into your lungs with each breath.

"Intruder."

The voice centered behind you all of a sudden and you ran. Your legs carrying you through the dark lands but to no avail. A heavy weight settled against your back and threw you to the ground and you were forced onto your back.

You waited for the pain that would end it all, eyes shut and body rigid but nothing ever came.

As you ever so slowly dared to open your eyes your surroundings became clearer again, as if the fog had dispersed around you.

You allowed yourself to sit up and try to assess the situation. To find whatever it was that attacked you but again you found yourself alone. In a clearing this time.

No plants grew in this soil beneath you. Only deep clawmarks broke the otherwise even ground. The trees surrounding you bore the same marks, giving the area an even more eery look.

You had to run.

Shifting your weight to get up, you were suddenly back on the ground. The impact had you again shut your eyes in panic and knocked the air from your lungs and none dared to enter as a weight pressed down, denying you of a much needed intake of breath.

"Open."

Something touched your brow and pulled it upward, forcing you to open your eyes and stare at the being now standing over you.

It sat on its haunches towering over you, a blackened arm outstretched to your head.

You now understood why no one dared to venture into Mordor.

"Elleth."

Your brows furrowed at the creature's speech.

"Sindarin?" The word left your lips before your head caught up with it. He just called you an elven woman in your own tongue. What was this thing?

In return the pressure on your chest increased and a huff of warm, rotten breath fanned your face as the beast crowded over you even further.

You wanted to close your eyes again, turn your head away as the beast crushed your chest but instead of doing so it moved its claw off your chest and held your jaw, prying open your mouth and moving your head to its will.

You had no option but to take it all in. From the long black hair that hung in thick strands framing its face, scarred and torn scales adorning its cheeks, up to its temples where the skin blended into thick horns that curled up and forward like a crown. Deep black eyes held cold blue irises, dark circles under it contrasting its otherwise pale skin.

The beast felt your breaths evening out and let out a noise akin to a breathy laugh, showing a maw full of sharp teeth, its tongue darting out to graze past its fangs.

Its jaws opened then, lunging forward at your head.

Without thinking you blocked, hands grabbing onto the protruding horns and taking its ears along with them earning a rumbling noise as it stopped immediately. You pulled your hands back and laid them flat on the ground beside your head, palms up. The creatures ears swished as its head shook, looking you dead in the eye and letting out a roar inches away from your face.

You watched the pitch black arm raise, claws gleaming and a torn wing twitching at its shoulder.

This was it.

The claw swiped down and tore fabric and flesh, leaving only shallow cuts that earned the beast a whimper.

The cold air came in contact with your skin, your body reacting in the worst way as you laid exposed underneafh the large monstrous being.

Once more its maw opened but instead of lunging at your head its tongue found your chest, curling it around a perked nipple with eager energy.

Your breath hitched as you tried your hardest not to let the beast hear a noise out of you, not a peep as its tongue violated your chest and its clawed hand traveled south, dragging the rough pads of its fingers across your stomach and shredding any fabric left in its way to where it wished to be.

Where your mouth kept quiet your body betrayed you as the beast moved its head south and inhaled once, twice, taking in your scent and letting out a clicking growl before shoving its face between your thighs.

"H..ahh stop it!" Your hands flew out to grab its horns again but instead of stopping like it did before it only let out a vibrating humm against your core, worsening your situation even further.

You pushed at its head with all your might but it easily overpowered you, especially now with your strength leaving your body as you neared a most unwanted orgasm. It did not help that the creature felt the need to shove its entire tongue down your entrance and swirl it in exploration. Its fangs grazed your skin and it continued humming and growling, adding even more sensation to the already overwhelming assault. You begged it to stop, whines now flowing freely from you as you tried to squirm out of its grasp but it only pulled away after your walls clenched as you came.

You couldn't even register your hands still rested on the beast's horns until it moved back up your body, nuzzling at your tears and wiping a combination of drool and your slick across your cheek.

With a claw on your hip to move you around the creature shuffled until it had your legs on each side of its waist.

"N..no. No no please no!" You knew it wouldn't work yet you still tried to pry yourself from its grasp.

"No, Adar." The beast tilted its head, moving closer to your face. With raised brows its ear perked. "Speak." It snarled.

"No, Adar.. Please."

You felt the beast's length twitch at the call of what you assumed to be his name.

"Yes, elleth."

With your hips still held in one massive clawed hand he rose to his upper body to full height, staring you down as if you were his next meal. Cracking sounded as his wings unfurled behind his back and framed his already impressive being.

The scars that ran across Adar's face extended down his chest and along his absomen. Thick raised lines ran in a pattern down his body and along his arms, one of them being much worse for wear with the shoulder slumped and the wing hanging down against the ground. There was no way he could still fly with those things.

Still he looked as threatening as he could be.

It was an impossible task to remove your gaze from him. Your gaze that slowly traveled lower to where your hips laid against his and his large member rested between your folds.

It was as black as his scaled flesh, ridges over its entire impressive length and already leaking for you.

Fear crept back over you after your moment of distraction. He wouldn't. ..would he?

You watched and compared. "Y.. you won't fit. I'll tear!" You were back to squirming and trying to reason with the monster but he took none of it into consideration, yoir fear only adding fuel to his already raging fire.

"Still, Elleth." Even as you willed all your strength to shove your hands between your thighs to cover yourself you failed as you were easily maneuvered back into a position he preffered, now with the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Its girth already stretched your lips past anything you ever had inside and with the addition of each ridge, one, two, tree the pain turned into something else. Fear ebbed away and made place for something far more dangerous.

Thr large, monstrous cock inside of you started to feel.. good.

Adar could feel your change and let go of all restraint, rutting into you with a purpose and pulling the most delicious sounds from you until he pulled you over the edge once more.

You cried out in pleasure, walls squeezing around his cock but his pace did not falter.

"Ahh--Adar slow.." your hand grasped at your stomach where with each thrust you felt him move inside of you through your skin. The sharp bones of his hips slammed against the back of your thighs at a rough pace. You were going to be bruised inside and out once he was finished with you.

Adar's face came back down to mouth at your chest as he fucked into you, soft grunts and growls informing you he felt pleasure as well. His entire being enveloped you, his touch everywhere overhwelming you easily. So much you didn't notice the hand moving between the two if you or stutter in his hips, just the soft roar that acompanied it as he spilled his load deep inside of you without stopping.

You felt warm, safe even with this beast hunched over you. The valar would abandon you for falling into this darkness that this beast led you into. That Adar led you into.

Adar's teeth were at your throat, his claws raking thin lines over your torso as he lost himself in the moment. His noises became more prominent the second your hands found his ears. Rubbing at the very tips of them pulled sweet purrs from his throat.

In return his hand snaked its way down your stomach, resting right above where he entered you and rubbed to find your clit, ever so careful not to nick you with his claws.

At his first touch you cried out his name, giving his ears a harsh tug making him fuck into you even harder, feeling the swell at the base of his cock press firmly against your entrance.

His fingers pressed harder and you tugged, he deepened his thrusts until you felt the thick knot slip past your lips and he stilled suddenly with a choked roar. The stretch of his swollen base pulled another orgasm from you, your body giving up entirely and slumping down barely able to catch your breath.

Adar's arms wrapped around your small frame and he let himself fall onto his back, keeping you on top of him as he waited for his knot to deflate.

"Ow."

Your simple outing of discomfort had Adar chuckle, murmuring an apology as he stroked your back.

Tattered clothes still hung off your limbs as your mind wandered. You had to find new clothes somehow. Were you going to see your friend after all and explain all of this? Would you lie? You trusted her enough to keep your secrets, and even if you came up with an excuse she'd give you nee clothes regardless.

"Loud.." your beaat beneath you spoke, no doubt refering to your racing mind.

Adar let you go, to see your friend and return home after. He assured you safe passage through his lands and marked trees so you'd find your way. He was kind in a way.

Home was less kind.

They interrogated you immediately on arrival. You weapons and gear were gone and you showed up in another region's garments. Besides you reeked of filth and acts unspeakable for an elf of your rank to smell of in public.

You were scolded and sent away but day after day the stares and complaints never left. No matter how much you scrubbed your skin or used every scented item in your possession and that of the merchant the smell would not leave your body.

You isolated yourself after a while. It had to be at least one moon's phase when a sudden realisation came to you in the middle of the night.

Without a second thought you took your most important belongings and left once more for the dark lands of Mordor.

"Adar?" You called out from the path he had carved for you, following it in hopes he would dwell near it.

"Adar? It's me, Elleth." Your name was still unknown to him, so you tried the name he called you before.

"..Elleth?" The name echoed back all around you, but this time it did not strike fear into you.

"Elleth." It echoed once more, now from just one single direction and you stepped towards it with excitement you never thought you had in you.

Before you in the thick greenery your beast sat, clearly just woken up by your calls. "You return." He did not expect you to.

"They care for me no longer. I smell of you no matter how long I scrub myself clean." Your tone was sad and your arms curled around yourself in what almost looked like shame.

"It's like the smell comes from inside of me." You let yourself slump to the ground at his side, legs crossed under you and fave hidden from his view. "I didn't even realize until tonight.."

Adar kept his gaze on you, letting you speak your needed words before he'd act.

"I haven't bled since then."

In a sudden flurry of moves you were once more on your back pinned to the forest floor. Only now you were being aggressively sniffed at, Adar's purrs almost being drowned out by it.

Once he was done he sat back on his haunches in front of you, his eyes closed i concentration. You watched him with curious eyes as you sat up as well, taking in his form that changed right before your eyes.

The sound of cracking bones accompanied the grimace on his face as his wings disappeared from behind him and his whole self took a more approachable form.

His animalistic legs kept their shape and scales, as did patches on his shoulders and temples. His claws were no longer the size of your entire fingers and his eyes now resembled those of a normal being. The horned crown stayed in place, albeit now smaller along with his ears too.

"I assume you'd prefer this form, as a fair elven lady." His voice caught you off guard with how gorgeous it sounded, deep and inviting.

"For now this is fine." You smiled up at his now less beastly form. "It's nice to be able to talk to you like this, it's difficult for you when you're big."

With a nod to agree Adar stood and offered you a hand, using his other to take the bag from you and sling it over his shoulder. As he turned you could see the scarring on his back, the black scaled skin running along just his shoulderblades where scarred stumps sat with thin red lines going down to his waist.

"Come." He called from a few steps away. "We have a village. My children would love to meet their new mother."

"And their new sibling as well, soon."

#sometimes I write #rings of power #adar #stepdadar #adar rop #trop adar #joseph mawle #sam hazeldine #i gotta make a masterlist for this guy #adar x reader #adar x you

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fangsandfeels · 7 days ago

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Rewriting Veilguard factions because I can:

Some things I'd have changed for each faction:

First of all, I'd introduce particular race restrictions for every faction because stop pretending they don't matter. The latter only destroys the unique specifics behind every race and its history in the world of Thedas.

Add extra background options for Rook related to their fraction for more roleplay and dialogue options. For instance, "noble" and "foundling" for the Mourn Watch, "new blood" and "veteran" for Grey Wardens, etc.

Remove the "Rook had to temporarily leave their faction because they did the thing and made the upper management mad" thing. Make their decisive action part of their bio, but not the reason for their participation in the main quest. Instead, let Rook to be actually entrusted by their group to get out there and find out what's going on - and end up cooperating with the Solas search group. Let whatever Solas is doing affect every fraction: spirits going stir-crazy in the Grand Necropolis, Lords of Fortune having to deal with Qunari and magical anomalies at the sea, not to mention increased dragon activity, weird elf disappearances in Treviso, Tevinter authorities growing more and more paranoid due to spike in elven slave rebellions (that Shadow Dragons had nothing to do with) and their rare magical artifacts going missing, Dalish elves hearing whispers and voices calling to them, Grey Wardens cooperating with the Inquisitor's initiative to find Solas and sending their volunteer (Rook) to assist. That would add more competence to their character.

Antivan Crows

I'll be frank: it should be Zevran's group, whatever he would call it. While Zevran is definitely not a good boy, he wouldn't make his trainees undergo the same torture he did.

Also, he'd hate the conditioning and brainwashing done by the Crows. So, Rook could have been one of the Treviso orphans already traumatized by the Antivan Crow training - until Zevran came into picture and, after killing the Crows, ended up with a bunch of fledglings on his hands. You can't exactly tell the younglings to go and be free, you have to teach them - while do something about them believing they're only good for killing. Due to this, Zevran ended up training them and getting that self-degrading bullcrap out of their heads. He didn't expect to have a guild of his own, but joke's on him, he is a leader now and now he is going to make Antiva a better place for his underlings.

Once again, it doesn't mean playing for the "good assassin guys", but if you want your morally gray faction, it will do nicely. Zevran isn't exactly a hero, but he is also not a total scumbag who buys people and makes child soldiers.

I can believe that he and his associates would actually be interested in organizing partisan movements around Treviso and killing occupants. After all, Zevran knows Quanri and their views better due to him traveling with Sten (from their interactions, I didn't get the idea that he was super into the Qun or comfortable with Sten's ideas), so he knows what exactly is going to happen to the Treviso denizens. Moreover, he is done with ANY attempts at brainwashing, will breaking, and reconditioning so he wouldn't stand for Qunari doing it, no matter their reasoning.

Available races: human, elf

Lords of Fortune

Just let them be pirates led by Isabela. Yes, the kind that doesn't care if the stuff they take belongs to another culture - because money. But also the kind that takes in runaway slaves and anyone else as long as they can keep up.

The kind that takes on merc jobs and also assists in defending Rivain because it's their territory - and for many, it's their home.

Rook starting out as a former escaped slave from Tevinter is a great template for both a merc with a heart and standards and an absolutely ruthless pirate who sees the world as the dog eat dog place.

Available races: all of them, Lords don't discriminate.

Veil Jumpers

I'd even change the name because it sounds so...not serious. Even Fade Stalkers sounds better (come on, writers, I see what you did with the Arlathan forest, you clearly wanted a fantasy version of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., so just embrace it).

Let this faction be created by one of the ancient elves who used to be stuck in the Fade, then got out - but were NOT happy with Solas, don't want to follow him and don't trust him to fix things. The Evanuris once led them and they ended up enslaved, why should they trust Solas and his good intentions, especially if he claims to be the one to fix and restore the world? So they don't.

They don't see the point in "burn it down and rebuild again" because they already have the bitter experience: so they would rather try their chances with what they have right now, by equipping their people with information and truth.

So, they manage to gather the Dalish people willing to believe and follow them, seeking to educate them and teach them on using magic and tools long forgotten and salvage whatever is left of their heritage, only now with the knowledge of using it.

The most difficult faction to gain approval for if you're not an elf: because some leaders are willing to cautiously cooperate, while others think that Felassan was right and that this world was so much better without humans, dwarves, or Qunari.

Available races: the elf only club.

Shadow Dragons

The in-game faction is mostly fine, aside from the game trying to make it look like Venatori are the only ones who want them dead. No, Shadow Dragons are beefing with the entire Magisterium (aside from Dorian and Maevaris' party) and are depicted as an extremely violent terrorist group both within and outside Tevinter, with only slaves and low-class citizens actually believing in their cause and hoping for their assistance.

Because this is what a corrupt government does - invest in smear campaigns so vile and vicious that you have to be prepared to debunk numerous myths about your group and cause before engaging with people.

This should be particularly painful if you, as a Shadow Dragon, interact with people outside Tevinter because given the real life experience with westerners, people living in safe and privileged first-world countries would rather gobble up the comfortable and refined lies spread by your enemies than listen to you, someone who was oppressed and hurt by your enemy.

Realistically, a Shadow Dragon Rook would have to facepalm their way through the ridiculous shit like "Don't you guys kidnap slaves from their cozy kennels only to forcefully conscript them to your army?" or "Aren't you guys just a bunch of mercenaries sponsored by one of the Senate parties to undermine its political opponents?" or "You're just part of the Par Vollen and Tevinter war. Do you think I'm stupid and don't know you're on the Qunari payroll?" or "All you want to do is to escalate and spread chaos, don't even try to do it here".

Another realistic issue for Shadow Dragons should be dodging Qunari spies. Because, lets be honest: Par Vollen would want to exploit that vulnerability in their continuous war with Tevinter. They would try to offer assistance to Shadow Dragons in order to find a way to weaken and conquer Tevinter or get their hands on secret information.

But since Shadow Dragons want to change their government, abolish slavery and the horrible political system, they don't want to do it at the cost of getting subjugated by the Qunari. So, they have to be extremely careful when picking their agents, making sure they aren't just conveniently placed Ben-Hassrath.

Available races: human, elf, dwarf, Kossith

Grey Wardens

Generally the most involved faction ever since the events of the Inquisition. First of all, where is one taint-corrupted ancient magister, there is two or even three of them. After the Adamant Fortress, they can't allow themselves to be inactive - if exiled from Orlais, they need to make up for this disaster and prevent any further manipulations, if allowed to stay and rebuild, they work closely with the Inquisitor and provide assistance with the search for Solas. Probably, not all of them are aware of the Solas' true nature - they're only given information that he is a much more powerful mage than anyone imagined and that he was the one who released Corypheus and plans for another disaster.

The First Warden is aware of the full story, but pretends to be skeptical for the sake of not arising suspicions (in case Solas' spies are around).

They should also experience issues with some of their elven Wardens suddenly leaving (you can't tell me that elf Wardens won't be tempted with a promise of never succumbing to the Calling) and detect suspicious darkspawn activity.

Available races: all, with Kossith and elves getting extra race interactivity bonuses.

Mourn Watch

The faction and its representatives are generally fine in the game, I just wish there was Cassandra to make disgusted noises at the Mourn Watcher Rook.

Imagine dodging interactions with Nevarran Mortalitasi to the point of appointing a random apostate bum as your Fade expert, only to work with a fucking Mourn Watcher because that bum you hired to be your Fade expert turned out to be a freaking elven god who started all that shit.

The irony is fucking delicious.

Aside from that, I think that Mourn Watch should be the mage-only faction because a) the order is founded by Mortalitasi, who are mages, b) what are the non-mage Watchers even supposed to do when working with spirits and the undead?

They have no tools or means of interacting with them, which means they can end up dead. It's not logical for Watchers to allow a non-mage in their ranks for the inclusivity sake, exposing them to a constant risk and knowing that the mages will be held responsible for the imminent tragedy. I imagine there is non-mage personnel at the Grand Necropolis, but I don't think they're entrusted with the same secrets and duties.

Also, there should be an option to choose between "foundling" and "noble". The foundling!Rook can have a particularly close connection to the spirits, which allows them to single-handedly calm the undead during the War of the Banners, while the noble!Rook has an established family, much more political connections and is well-versed in diplomacy and negotiations, which allowed them to trick the undead barons and put them down when they least expected it

Available races: human, elf

Bonus: new faction idea

Kal-Sharok

Give more exposure to the Titans and the dwarven connection to Stone through the perspective of the Kal-Sharok dwarves. In DAI, they were already shown carrying out their own operations and cooperated with the Inquisition on their own conditions. So, I can't imagine them not being active, especially if they are at least partially aware of the history of Titans and the Evanuris.

Rook can start as one of the Kal-Sharok agents (probably acting undercover at first), and to them stopping or even meeting Solas is of a particular priority because he holds the key to the history of the dwarves, their connection to lyrium, and many other things. This Rook is looking for the truth - and ultimately can decide, whether they should use their knowledge for advancing Kal-Sharok exclusively or should they reconnect Kal-Sharok, surface dwarves and Orzammar because they share the same past and the same trauma.

Also, a Kal-Sharok Rook can have unique mage classes if they're the one with connection to the Stone.

Available races: only dwarves

#dragon age #dragon age: veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #dav #datv #da:tv #veilguard critical #zevran arainai #da zevran #dragon age zevran #cassandra pentaghast #dragon age cassandra

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gugudalala · 7 months ago

Text

pairing: Toji x reader / TojiMMA

synopsis: Toji MMA with an upcoming match with Sakuna. Y/N a new reporter with a last chance on the job she need Toji help where he offer his help in exchange for sex.

warning: pet names, smut with plot, overtim, squirting, dumbification, size kink, unprotected, praise, ect+++

words: 1964

A/N. English is not my first language if there any mistake plz forgive me. I do not own any of the character or picture (credit to the rightful owner) only the plots are mine.

Enjoy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

CH: (1) | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Toji Zenin, a heavyweight MMA fighter. He is not only known for his amazing winning record but also for his sexy, dangerous body and looks that could put down anybody who passes his way. With all the body muscle and his good look no wonder he is so popular. Nobody knows where the scar on his face comes from but that does not stop the increasing number of his fangirls and boys yet, he hates the attention that he receives.

“Fuck off” he shouted out to the reporter who had crowed him after his match, which of crouse he had won

“Stop scaring them off” said his manger, as he quickly followed him into the break room leaving the press behind with the help of their bodyguard “They just doing their job, why don’t you enjoy their attention a little more”

Toji ignores him sitting into the chair relaxing his muscles provided for him by his physical therapist, as they help him cool down his body

“You know, they’re just excited for your upcoming match. With you fighting one of the MMA legend, how would they ever stay calm”

“Sukuna, a MMA legend? Funny”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Y/N POV

"Listen here and listen well, this is your last chance. You will do an interview with Toji about the upcoming MMA match of Toji Zenin VS Sakuna. Do you understand?!" scream your boss

‘Fuck Toji, fuck the MMA’ you mentaly curse as you drink down another glass of whiskey. Becoming a reporter had always been your dream, however the only kinds of news that had your interest were about crimes. Mystery and thriller which was your favorite, not some celebrity life. Yet, the crimes had been decreasing and there was nothing for you to make a living off

‘Not sure if I should be happy or sad about it’ you thought as you asked for another glass. Looking over you just happen to notice that there was a man sitting 3 seats away from you. You can’t recall when the man came by. However, that does not matter now when all you want to do is to forget your boss

Looking over to that man all you can tell is that he might be loaded as he dresses so comfortably for these luxury bars. With a tight black shirt and gray sweatpants. With all of his muscles that are hugging his shirt. You could not tell if the shirt is too small or his muscles too big. ‘Must be the latter’ you taught to yourself

“Like what you see?” said the man as you realize that you’re caught from staring at him

“Not much to see” you lied as you look away blushing from the embarrassment from getting caught

A light laugh leaves his mouth as move toward the seat beside you and leans on his palm facing you. Seeing his face close up all you can say is that he is handsome- too handsome for your little heart. With a scar on his mouth you can't help but to let that little thriller heart of your run free

“Your face is red” he smirk

“I drank a lot tonight” you replied holding onto your glass tighter looking forward not wanting to face him

“Hmm” he slowing reach his hand out to you with one of his finger touching your ear dragging down to your neck pass your shoulder to the collar of your shirt “it all red” his eyes never leaving you

“Oh” is all that you can reply hoping that he would not hear how hard your heart is pounding

“Where does it end?” he asked with a smug. As his finger traces upward back to your ear. You knowing full well of what will happen next based on your answer

‘A night won’t hurt’ you thought, losing your mind into the alcohol. “Want to see it out yourself?” You asked him now facing him and by the time you know it you were already in one of the hotel rooms. Him being all over you, kissing harshly as you were pushed against the wall

You felt dizzy, as he hungrily kissed you as he bit into your bottom lip. You parted your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper with his hand onto the back of your neck holding your face upward toward him as he pressed himself between your legs. Never in your life had been kissed like this before and as he pull away leaving small kiss around your face to your ear as he whisper ‘get on the bed’

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You both move toward the bed, walking backward following his lead with his mouth never leaving you. Once on the bed with his body on top of you leaving a small kiss along the side of your neck down to your breast. He unbuttons your shirt, pants, and undergarment, throwing them away leaving you naked. He sat up while scanning your body from top to bottom with only the bedside lamp as your light source. A small smile formed on his mouth “it's all red” he smirked as his strong hand held onto one of your breasts playing with your nipple as he blended down to suck on another. He smiles as he hears you whimper, his hand reaching down playing with your clit. A moan escaped your mouth as his finger entered you. Lewd squelching sound filled up the room as he hit all the right spots in you. Your moan became louder as your stomach tighten almost reaching your climax

“Gonna cum on my finger? Show me how you cum, little one” with him fingering you faster helping you reach your climax. He help you ride it down your hand reaching out grabbing his shirt

“Take it off” you plead. So he did, finger leaving you hanging wanting for more and within a second his shirt was off thrown away leaving him only in his sweatpant. Him standing on his knee above you, the little light helps define all his muscles and you take your time scanning him from the top only to stop at the bulging on his sweatpant. You hand reach out to touch it as you sit right up and you can’t help but to pull down his pants freeing his dick only for it to hit your face. You were stunned at how huge he was, worrying if you could even handle it. Before you could say a word he pushed you onto your back with one leg in his arm over his shoulder. Feeling his tip rubbing your fold “Such a sweet little thing for me” he teased

“Are you on pill” he asked “yes” and with that he slowly sank in stretching you out. You moan out as you feel every inch of him entering you. “Fuck, so tight” he moan as he pull out just to push right back in. You suck in a shaky breath never once you had anything that big in you. “Too big” you murmur, lip trembling. He picks up his speed and pounds right into you. Burying it so deep and thrusting fast and rough. “I’m go-gonna” You whine as you climax for the second time of the night. Drunk on pleasure, you didn’t notice that he slowly positioned you into the matting press with your two legs up on both of his arms.

“Think you can handle me more” he ask. Looking to where you both connected only to find out that he is only half way in- all this time. “W-wait” before you could reply he already sank himself deeper into you hitting your cervix. Your mouth pops open with a gasp taking him in more and more. “You feel that, taking me so-so well” he praised as he was pounding harder and deeper than before. With every thrust he hits your cervix you can’t help but to cry out of pleasure. “I can’t- no more-“ you cried. “Shhh, you can and you well” he shushes you, as he bent down kissing you. You never had sex this intense in your life before, the amount of pleasure you felt scare you. “W-wait some-something coming, I feel strange” you cried as you tried to move away from him yet with his strong arm he was able to hold you down. Now you're back facing him with you in all four. His arm is holding onto your side forcing you down onto him as he continues trust into you.

“Go on then, make a mess” one of his hands reaching down, playing with your swollen clit. Your core tightens as you reach your high, leaking all over the sheet beneath you. Screaming with your eyes roll back from the intense pleasure. “Fuck” he groans seeing you squirt all over. “Good girl” trusting faster, reaching his own climax coming inside you. Before you can even catch your breath he flips you over, now facing him with him in between your legs. Looking at his face, his eyes dazed in pleasure with a smug expression and his hand stroked his once again hard on “Again” he demanded while looking at you “cum like that for me again” he positioned himself right at your entrance. “Hmmm” you moan back too tired to form a word, feeling him going in-

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

*buzz-buzz buzz-buzz*

You woke up to your phone ringing. Reaching out you receive the call "Y/N! Finally the phone went through, I just received mail from the team that you are allowed to go in for a quick photo of the gym today. Meet them at their gym at 2 and take this as your chance and meet up with the coach to get closer to Toji-san. I will send the location of the gym to your mail. Don't forget this is your last chance" your boss ended the call

'Fuck' you mentally curse sitting up you look around to see the other side of the bed empty- no note, no men cloths, nothing. You recall the night before which was the most intense sex you ever had and which you had enjoyed thoroughly. Hell, you never knew that sex can be that extreme and with the guy whom you never get the chance to know his name

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Looking in front of you is the so-called gym that your boss forces you to come to. You had gone home, got dressed and gathered your stuff even with the difficulty of your sore leg and muscle you finally made it to the gym. One of the men came out and greet you

"Hi, you're the reporter right? I'm the coach assistant that will be helping you around today" he introduced himself. He brought you into the gym which can only be accessed by the members of the team. Which he introduces you around through the building, rooms, and the equipment along with some new addition members of the team. Everyone is friendly as they help you along the gym yet you can't help but feel the soreness from last night is getting back through you from walking around.

"-and so this is Toji-san's personal break room" he guides you to the front door "Can't we go in?" you asked. During the tour you were able to access into other member's personal room, so you questioned him. "Sorry, unlike other members Toji-san rooms are off limits. He hated when people come into his room without permission" he answer you with a small awkward smile "Oh, what a jerk"

"That is not what you called me last night" a familiar voice calls you out. A shadow looms over you from behind, turning around looking up you recognize the face- the exact same one that makes you cum over and over oh god how could you ever forget

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #fushiguro #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen

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thealbatrovss · 11 days ago

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wind song // logan(2017) x fem mutant reader

(mini series)

synopsis : you dream of a life without your powers. logan needs them to help locate some dead guys cash. a roadtrip to the Nevada desert with your ex was always bound to be a mistake. but, maybe it wasn’t.

Chapter 1 - blood money

chapter summary: after breaking up over a year ago, you reunite with logan at a diner in Texas. he needs a favor.

warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI - suggestive content, mature themes/subject matters, death, swearing, eventual violence and smut.

word count: 2k+

wind song masterlist // my other masterlist

The coffee was burnt. You pretended to like it that way.

The white mug was too hot to hold with your hands, so you opted for a straw instead. You found it in the corner of the booth. That earned some stares from the old couple eating lunch a few tables over and your waitress.

“That’s gonna melt the plastic right into your drink, you know?” Her Texan accent wasn’t as thick as the other waiters. There was red lipstick on her teeth. “Just wait for it to cool down.”

You picked the plastic tube from the liquid, inspecting it. It was still intact. “Looks fine to me.” And you popped it back in. There were sugar packets on the table. They reminded you of pixie sticks. You started to feel nauseous.

The lady shook her head, putting her notepad with your orders away. “Whatever gets you through the day.” And she left to go get your food. Or complain to her coworkers about the woman melting plastic instead of sugar into her coffee.

You wanted to drink it like normal. But you’d used a similar cup like this before to solve a case a few months back. It just didn’t feel right. Objects never did after they helped you locate the missing person. Another strange aspect of your powers. It’s like the people lived on through their things.

You could see his car pulling in through the driveway. He was right on time. Like always.

All kinds of emotions were running through you. You’d just arrived here out of state for a funeral. You were still wearing the black dress from attending this morning. Logan had called as you debated in your car whether to attend the after-services or not. Guess you got your answer. But it was still a surprising one.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a year. Not since the incident.

The front doors opened, and the bell rang to let everyone know. You sat up a little straighter, nervous fingers folded in your lap.

Logan seemed to bring down the entire room as soon as he walked in. He wore a white tank top, with a white button-up over it. His black suit jacket was covered in specks of dirt and dust. His beard was a lot fuller now, his hair a bit shorter. Both growing gray. It glistened with the beads of something that smelled like moonshine.

For the first time in your life, you could see his age catching up to him. And the exhaustion. It was written on the bags underneath his eyes. In the way he held his aching knuckles to his chest, staring at where his claws hid.

He took a quick swig from his flask, ignoring the waiter's glare from behind the main counter. He was looking for you, drink still in hand.

You let him find you.

“Nice dress.” He started with. Your heart rate increased. You bit the inside of your lip. He still had that gravitational pull that made people want to either run and hide or get closer to him. He slid into the booth across from you. The sugar packets made shaking noises. He left his flask out on the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Your hands played with the black fabric ending at your knees. “Funeral.”

Logan nodded his head in understanding. He took out his glasses, looking at one of the menus.

“Oh, I’ve ordered already.”

“And I’m hungry as shit.”

“I ordered for you.” You emphasized.

Logan paused, staring at a picture of a salad. His eyes peeked out over the menu. “The usual?”

You nodded, swirling the straw around in the cooling cup of coffee. “Most places have what you like.”

He removed his glasses, rubbing at the irritated spot on his nose. “Next time, let me get my own tab.”

When she returned with the food, you ate in silence.

Logan stuffed a plate of sausages in his mouth before finishing attacking the eggs. He occasionally reached for his flask, like it was something he had ordered.

You didn’t feel like eating. The sugar was grinding in your ears. You’d have to take this sandwich to go. The coffee was going cold now.

“So,” you started. You were suddenly aware of how sticky the seat was beneath you. “Why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?” He kept eating. His fork made noises when it hit the plate.

You thought about the weeping mother and the small casket. “Well, it was either this or dwell on my last case. And I’d rather talk with an old friend than think about any of that.”

He stopped chewing, swallowing hard. “Well, then you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Your brows knitted. You leaned back against the headboard. “I’m listening.”

Your ex took another shot of the hard alcohol. It was still the afternoon. But alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on other people. His abilities wouldn’t allow it. But it was still a problem.

He stuffed the flask back in his shirt pocket, only after it was empty. “I’ll make it short. A client of mine owes me a lot of fucking money.”

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

He put up five fingers. You remembered how they used to squeeze your hand in comfort. Sometimes they’d wipe away your tears. Other times they gripped your thighs and pulled you closer.

It was bittersweet. Those sweet and intimate memories. Even as the world continued to go to shit and mutants became less and less, you still had each other. Until something took that all away. You could recall the whistle ringing from your lips. Your cheeks were cold during the early days of fall. Logan was yelling about how you should’ve seen this coming. But he knew how your abilities worked. They didn’t work on the living.

“5,000?” You guessed.

“50,000.” He corrected.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus. Were you his chauffeur or were you sleeping with him?”

He smiled. It was a weak one but it was still there. If you weren’t so used to it you would’ve missed it. “Look, he was a rich asshole who promised me a big tip. That's all.”

“That’s not a tip. That’s my salary.”

Logan set his utensils down after taking one last bite. “Then you need a fucking raise.”

“Or a new profession.” You joked. But it came out flat.

Being a private detective could’ve been a more fulfilling job. If it wasn’t for the fact that your mutant gene gave you the ability to track any person or creature. But only if they were dead.

You’ve worn this dress too many times to too many funerals.

Logan seemed like he was fighting with himself, whether to respond to that confession or not. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled out a fancy fountain pen from his jacket. “This is all I have of his.” He placed it on the table in front of you. “Will this be enough?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. “I haven’t even agreed to anything yet. What makes you think he’s dead in the first place?”

“Because, when he called saying he had the money, I heard gunshots. Then the phone went out. It’s been three weeks.”

“And no one’s reported him missing?” That was odd.

“Nope.” He looked from your eyes to your lips. “He never even told me where he was. I think he was out of state. And before you ask, yes, I already tried to trace the call. Nothing.”

The waitress came by, handing you a to-go box and whisked away his empty plates. Her eyes lingered noticeably longer on Logan as she walked back into the kitchen.

You continued your questioning. “Does he have any family? Maybe they know where he is.”

“No. He told me he was an only child. Parents died by the time he was 40. No other living relatives. People say a lot of shit when they’re drunk in the back of a car. Or just damn lonely.” His hand instinctively went to rest on the flask in his pocket. He motioned towards the pen. “If you need more than this, I can get it.”

You hesitated to pick it up. “You know how much I hate doing this.”

“I know.” He licked his lips, leaning towards you. “Yet, you’re still looking for people.”

It was true.

As much as you hated your powers, as much as they hurt; they could be used to help. Even if that meant only ever bringing people back to their families dead instead of alive.

A quote from your old Professor echoed in your mind. From a time long lost in the unforgiving hands of time and a powerful mind.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing can hurt you. But, it can give peace to the ones that you’re helping. What you give up, you give away. For good or for evil, now that’s up to you.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An old friend was asking for your help. But would he do the same for you? There was a time when you would’ve never doubted it. You hated yourself for that.

The pen felt icy in your hands. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe he was dead. You could already feel something beating through the object. It didn’t feel alive. “When do we start?”

A glimmer of light radiated off of Logan’s rugged face. For a moment there, it was like he was his old self again. The light flickered out just as quickly as it came. “Tomorrow morning. 8 am. I’ll pick you up.” He placed a 20-dollar bill next to your half-empty coffee cup.

You stared at the dead man on the paper. “I’ve already paid.”

“This is for the tip.” He stood, a slight uneasiness in his steps. He seemed so tired.

Were his regenerative powers still getting worse?

He paused before heading out, messing with the cuff of his sleeves. “Don't worry. I’ll make sure you get paid for this.”

I don’t want your damn money. I want to be rid of this haunting.

You let him think you were deep in thought. You tapped your chin. “I’ll take 60%.”

Logan put a hand on his hip. He sighed. “Now don’t piss me off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Would never dream of doing that.” You packed your untouched sandwich away in the box.

Logan cursed under his breath. It sounded like he was muttering between fuck it and fines. When he left the small diner the room felt lighter again.

You watched him drop his keys in the parking lot and stomped them further into the Texas dirt.

“See, I told you!” You turned to your waitress who was pointing at your cup. The plastic was starting to crinkle and melt. You could see it poking out from the brim of the liquid. “Next time, just drink the damn thing normally.”

I would if I could.

Logan was already gone by the time you looked back out the window. The sugar packets shook as you stood to leave. The cup rattled. The pen pulsed in your hands. Like it was trying to mimic a heartbeat it no longer had. You could feel your powers radiating through the objects.

That night you played with the lamentation on the corner of a photo.

Your motel room was small but surprisingly homely. There was a TV playing at full volume in the room next door. It kept you awake. Sounded like an action movie. It seemed to go on forever.

The photo was of you and Logan. You still kept it in your wallet. It was hidden behind old coupons and a stick of gum. Sometimes you forget it was even there. Most of the time you self soothed by peeling off the lamentation from the corners. The sides looked like the melting straw in your cup of coffee.

It was 9 pm. You ate most of your sandwich. A corner piece sat in the to-go box on your bed. Someone finally shut the TV off. A dog was barking in the parking lot. Cigarette smoke hugged the air. You put the photo back into your wallet, this time behind your credit card.

“Logan’s phone.” You heard Caliban's voice sing through the line. “Sometimes mine if he lets me use it.”

It was nice to hear from him again. A tracker similar to you but only with mutants. He was always mesmerized by how your powers worked. He used to show you the sketches of the figures you blew into the wind when you whistled. You wondered if he still kept those drawings.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“I know. He’s still got your contact name in his phone.”

You smiled a little. “Is he there?”

“He’s working. Some bachelor party, I think. He’s probably pissed he left his phone here.”

You looked at the fountain pen sitting on the nightstand. “When he gets back, could you tell him we’re headed to Nevada.”

“Nevada? What the hell are you two going to do up there?” He paused for a brief moment as if he just remembered. “Oh yeah. The blood money.”

“Did he promise you a cut too?”

He let out a laugh. “Logan can hardly part with a 5-dollar bill these days. I’ll probably get paid shit for watching Charles while you two go off getting married in some shitty casino or something.”

“It’s just a business trip. Nothing more.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, my friend.”

There was a storm happening outside. The wind howled like a river of ghosts against the motel walls. You thought you heard old teammates and friends whispering in it.

A cough came from the other line. “By the way, if you come across a Vegas snow globe, I’d very much like to add it to my collection.”

“Sure.” The howling outside continued. “Take care, Caliban.”

“You don’t want to ask how Charles is doing?”

You took a sharp inhale. You didn’t need to ask. You knew exactly how he was doing. And you didn’t want to talk about him right now. Maybe some other time. You kept putting it off. You’d deal with that guilt another time.

“I’ll get you that snow globe.” And you hung up.

You fell asleep, still wearing that black dress.

#the wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #the wolverine #the x men #ravens masterlist #wolverine x reader #wind song masterlist #logan

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bohemian-nights · 7 months ago

Text

An Offer From A Rogue

Word Count: ~9,448

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Warnings⚠️: 18+; incest, smut, choking, a little bit of soft dom!Daemon; p in v penetration; a tiny dash of degradation; fingering against a wall

Description: Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not in that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame.

AN: Based on this request by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored. So sorry it’s late🙏🏽

The sound of dancing and a lively tune could be heard streaming in from just beyond the wrought iron door, but that had long been put out from her mind.

Another tune entirely played reached her. It took her a great deal more effort than it perhaps should have to realize that the sound came from her.

A whine which she felt clawing its way out from the back of her throat and breaking out into the quiet of her chambers. Desperate and greedy thing it was. Not in the least bit ladylike, but she supposed this was most assuredly unladylike and he was encouraging her with his murmurs of let me hear you sweet one and let go for me sweetling I have you.

He did have her. Brown legs wrapped around his middle. She clung to him like a vine, splayed against the backdrop of her chamber, though she was mostly being held up by his strength. Hers having long since departed from her already spent form.

The rest of her senses fared little better. Her ears felt like they had been stuffed with cotton, all she could taste was the salt of his skin mixed with an unearthly of smoke and dragon at his nape, and her voice had gone a while ago, but she had gathered that it hadn’t really mattered. Who needed oxygen when they had this? His breath breathed life into her better than undiluted air ever could.

Who needed to speak when one could moan out her pleasure no. It did not matter.

Words could never convey quite what she felt. Not at that moment. Not when there was this fire she felt spreading throughout her. Engulfing her. Turning her to flame. To pure heat and want. She could never describe that. What she felt. What was before. What was after. If there even was an after.

What was apart from this chamber, it truly did not matter.

That world that she had ventured from so distant. So foreign. So immaterial. It was no more real than the creatures in old fisher wives tales told to scare naughty children who crept from their beds in the dead of night.

Everything else had faded and turned to gray. There was just him and her in vibrant color and even then she had a hard time distinguishing between the shades that made up him and the ones that made her.

The guests feasting below let out another round of shouts and cheers. Their stomping faintly registered in the back of her mind overcoming the haze for a brief moment.

They were getting quite loud. Quite merry. Quite drunk.

Twas probably for the best. She was being quite loud herself. With each mewl and breathless moan that broke free of her body increasing in duration and volume. Unrestrained as they serenaded a most captive audience.

An audience that drew out a whine lodged in the back of her throat to pass through kiss swollen lips. The cause of which was no more than a mere swipe of ardent tongue upon her décolleté and the deft brush of fingers upon her all too sensitive nub sat atop her womanhood. Over and over again as she yielded to her pleasure.

“That’s it sweet one,” he hummed. Voice thick and with something she could not quite name, but it was something which she felt too. Something that sparked another gasp for the air which he had taken from with another murmur and lap of the wet muscle at her neck. “That’s it.”

She would have tried to stifle that moan if she had her bearings, if she had any sense or care for her name, but all manner of proprietary and good breeding had flown from her and floated down into the world of gray. Thankfully forgotten for if that gray had collided with her world of color, staining them with the red welts, yelps, and slick of their passion to which she would never forget the shame of it.

She should have shame. She would have had shame at her own visage if she had any left. If she could gaze down at herself or look into the mirror she kept on the opposite wall of her chamber near her vanity and behind the changing screen which hid her bath, not that she needed to.

Slacked-jawed, flushed, and incapable of any intelligible speech. She made a lovely sight. By the way in which the brute of a man before stood leering over her, the way his tongue lapped at her, tasting her, marking her as his, she knew she made a lovely sight, but she could not be more indecent.

Body given away to the haze of euphoria that enwrapped her courtesy of a pair of strong arms that kept her firmly pressed against a most willing figure complete with calloused fingers embedded deeply inside her reaching her in places where she had not know existed, but where nonetheless needed him most, and a set of thin, but determined lips upon every bit of exposed brown skin they could reach.

She could hear the squelching sound that his fingers made as they rocked them in and out of her warmth. Clenching around them whenever he grazed over that place within her that had her seeing the stars of the night sky reflected on the back of her eyelids. Good girl he chanted when she gave into him. Gushing down on his arm with her slick.

She could feel her curls glued to the wall by his exertions. See the wet trail she had left upon his robes and the deep purple bruises forming over skin on the tops of her ample breasts. Bruises that she’d have to explain away to one of her maids when they came to attend to her in the morn.

I tripped over my skirts and only managed to catch myself upon the railing would do or mayhaps a simple my stays were too tight would suffice. Would they believe her? Mayhaps they would.

She would have to throw away the horrid garment on the second account. It would be replaced by some other God's awful contraption of death before she could forget the feel of it constricting her, and on the first—well she was a rather clumsy adventurer it had always been easy enough for her to bruise.

A fall upon her knees would leave her looking as if she were a peasant girl who had been milking cows upon her knees and climbing up trees or traversing through the thistle field where Vermiothor liked to roam would leave her arms raw and red with her own lifeblood.

But the days of childhood clumsiness had long since passed her and while she might fool a pack of serving girls who were scarcely older than she, she would most certainly not fool her Septa.

No she wouldn't be so naive.

She would see what had happened. What he had done to her. What she in truth had let him do to her even if she could not believe it so.

Her septa, a woman not quite old enough to be her grandmother, but a fair deal older than her mother had been, would have been alert that oher whines and whimpers. She was good natured, if not a little strict. She was a sweet woman above all. Wise. Dependable.

Though unmarried at two and twenty she was getting rather old to need her septa as she did, but truthfully, she did not know what she would do without her. She was all she had known. The only maternal figure which she had and her septa seemed to love he in all the ways that she had seen a mother love their daughter

She could not recall her mothers laugh, the feel of her hands stroking her hair as she brushed and braided her riot of coils, and most importantly, well important to her, her face which she had been told more times than she had inherited.

She supposed she must have inherited it. She knew she had not inherited much of her fathers Valyrian countenance, the details of which she could not quite recall either.

Though in that moment she supposed she could not quite recall anyone’s face apart from the man who had buried his head silver into her neck among other things laying heavy kisses into her flushed skin as she absentmindedly stroked down the planes and contours of his person that she knew better than her own image. better than she should have known.

She was not the first to do so. The first to touch him as he had her, but she knew a part of him. Knew what he sounded like when he tried to contain his own grunts of pleasure, murmuring into her skin with pet names which she would not go without.

“My sweet one,” he whispered as she drank up the praise. She knew what those saccharine groans tasted like upon her tongue. The sweetness.

Knew what it felt like to feel his length pressing against her. rubbing upon her thighs, her womanhood. hard and wanting. She knew him like this and she enjoyed the knowledge more than she should. Letting it wash over her. Engulfing her with every grunt and groan intended or not that slipped from his lips.

Daemon had been rough with his affections and she had not minded it. She liked it. She had not known she would, not knowing what had lied dormant within her, waiting to be awakened, but no that it had, she was wanton. She was utterly wanton. Every bit debauched. A creature which needed to be fed lest she wilt away to nothing.

She had heard about girls like this. Her septa had warned her about girls like her.

Wayward. Fallen. Ruined whatever one wanted to call it, innocence had been corrupted.

Tainted with sin and damned for it. Their great shame and what a shame it was.

She would have died from the shame of it if the older woman were to somehow apparate configured from her rapture before her very eyes.

Or would she?

She was desperate. Starved. Not caring on but propriety or for the gentle breeding of a lady which had been drilled into her skull since before she could even write her own name.

But now—now the only name which she knew was his. What a name it was. What it stirred within her. Who could have known that a single word could leave her so wanting.

“Daemon,” she moaned when he had nuzzled at a particularly sensitive patch of skin underneath her ear. Trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. It was not as pleasant as what his fingers could stir from a few fervid rolls of the little pearl he had found at the apex of her mound when he he tweaked her to stiff , or the push of those digits in and out of her heat at the languid pace which he had set, but it was bliss nonetheless. A bliss she was happy to chase.

Pulling the man as close as their still clothed bodies would allow her to as she wound her fingers through silver strands slicked by lust. Feeding her hunger.

This, this is why they kept girls away from the truth of what went on between men and women in prowling hours of the wolf in the comfort of their chambers with fears of proprietary and damnation.

Shrouding it with mystery and hushed chastisements that it was for the marriage bed and if that should be broken it one would risk body and soul as well as social ostracism to silence the more curious sort for if they knew the truth of what pleasure lied, of what lay within them, they should not forgo it. They should grow to want as she had grown to want and wanted and wanted. He had made her want.

A gale, no, a raging thunderstorm had been awakened within her that she could not put out by her own hands. No matter what she had tried and tried and tried to her great frustration.

Repeating those same ministrations that he had, the tips of drumming circles into her bundle of nerves, his rhythm steady. Long fingers pistoled in and out of her heat trying to reach that spongy spot he had found within her that had her mewling like one of the feral cats that roamed around the castle, but it was no good.

Everything was wrong. So very wrong. The pads of her fingers had been too delicate in their movements. Her slender digits had not filled her in the way he had. Had not quite stretched her to find that spot and what they could reach had certainly not elicit that same intensity he had ignited. They had not the callouses which did not catch upon her clit no matter what way she had positioned them. And yet she tried.

Tried chasing her high that he had taken from her for the better part of the hours between dusk and dawn.

She was in a frenzy of want. Of heat. Of fire, trying to stoke that burning fire until it burst before her into molten magma and still it eluded her. He eluded her and with him that delightful bliss he had set into motion by his strong hand.

She was made to give up the feverish coxcomb of self pleasure all too soon. Forced herself to for she was gaining nothing from it except anguish.

Laying there in a empty bed, in the dead of night with soaked fingers, a sore cunny overflowing with her slick, a brown face marred with tears, and pride in her throat caught with a scream upon her tongue that she did not dare let it out lest her Septa find her in her ruin or that insufferable man howl with his own pride at having left her in such a state of unabashed avarice.

Her mother had been in this exact position. Or something similar to it.

It was how she came about. What bastards grew up with the knowledge of. Still while she may be a bastard she was the bastard sister to a king. Had grown up with his children, under his eye, and that acknowledge meant things were expected of her.

If her Septa happened to walk in this moment, if anyone happened to walk in, and see that she was no better than a common whore, no better than her mother she’d be ruined. Absolutely ruined

the blood of the dragon gone to waste. Common blood won out, unless the man who was doing his best to ruin her for all other men saved her. Unless Daemon asked for her hand and restored her honor.

Would he do so? Would he save her or at least her virtue? Ask her to be his wife. Be the mother of his children? Would give up his life for her? Would he forsake all others, have her pass through his life at his side, and sully his blood with hers . Would he do that for her?

She was not quite sure what he would do. After All he had pulled her into his depths and converted her to this nymph. Drawn her away from her, but did she care?

Marriage certainly did not have any bearing in this. Seven help her, thinking in its entirety had lost its place here with him.

There was only divinity itself. She felt divine. Absolutely divine there with him. As if she had tasted the heavens and had touched the face of the Maiden herself. Gods oh Gods.

Did he find another? Had he been with her or was his hand enough? Was a rough hand scared by battle adequate replacement to her tight warmth or had he taken his pleasure in a whores cunt instead?

Was that why he left her or had he like her gone without satisfaction in its entirety? It seemed now when she had him worshiping her when his mouth was and nipping at her commanding her to let go to give into him and he’d be there to catch her as she tumbled into her ecstasy so silly to wonder where he had been, but now was not then.

Then he had left her to want. Left her to cry like a child and beg for him to return to her and make him put out that fire which he had so brought her to life. Make her feel alive for the first time in her short muted life. She’d never live down the shame of it.

She had hardly gotten more than a few dreary hours of sleep because of him. Plagued by dreams of him and those fingers that held magic in their tips. In his tongue that left In the length of him.

Him. All him. He consumed her. Burned her.

It was all the cause of that man who was trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck rough yet surprisingly nimble fingers caressing her in a place in a way that she was left in this sorrowful state, but nonetheless, only he seemed to know that she had been driven mad with passion and lorded it over her. She had found utter bliss and lost it in a few hours and had been left wanting in its absence. In his absence.

Oh he had known what he was doing. What he had been doing for a good fortnight.

He had rarely let her side since he had arrived back from his latest excursion away to some distant land he would take her to. You ought to see more of the world than this place. He had told her. Arms linked and his head bent to hers as they took a turn about the Red Keeps gardens. Taking great pains to detail the full exoticism that his travels afforded him. Which could be afforded to her.

Her septa had not liked that. Muttering to herself with discontent when they had arrived back to her chambers, but there was not much she could do. For Daemon commanded her company to make up for his absence in that time between and who was she to deny a prince?

How could she deny him when she insisted that she be seated besides him at each feast. Asking for her favor at every tourney. Every dance was reserved for him lest she find the lord who dared to take her away from him for a mere round needing to be carried off his mount at said tourneys the next mourn.

Daemon drew her in with whispers into her lips curl into a smile and a heavy hand upon her covered knee that sent a shiver through her for want of more than mere warmth.

“Let them stare sweet one,” he had told her with a grin she did not wish to escape from. Wandering fingers inching up the silk which she had painfully stitched together by her own hand. It had taken her the better part of a moon to make the gown, but when she had shown it to her septa she could not have been prouder.

It was a ruin now much the same as her.

The bodice ripped in two courtesy of the man in her grasps lust ridden possession to free her breasts from their restraints.

He had been restrained up until that point, but that restraint had severed when she had begun to quake and drool around him. Needing to suckle upon her breast seemingly as much as she needed him within her. Taking the erect bud between his lips and to lavish them with his tongue as he had done so with her neck. Not caring that he had soiled the garment with his salvations and his essence.

She did not know entirely how the latter had even over, perhaps he had taken himself in hand while she was preoccupied with the feel of him inside her, any part of him inside her, surrounding her, but whatever may be the case it smelled of his musk. Almost overpowering her smell with that smoky scent of warm salt air, dornish red, dragonhide, and open sky.

She had hid it as best as tucked away under a loose bit of stone under her bed. She hadn't a choice on that matter.

How was she to explain away that when they saw the state of it? What would they ask her? What would she say? She could feel the words catching in her throat beneath her high. Would anyone say anything?

No one had said a thing when he had first laid eyes upon it. When he kept his gaze, his hands, his attentions a laugh at their guests upon her. He kept her person firmly affixed to his side. Eyes darkened under his adore and the dim glow of the candlelight. It was quite hard to tell if his eyes had darkened, but they had lost their violet hue.

They had gawked at them of course, received a few raised brows, but a brother, even a Targaryen brother, paying compliments to his dearest sister, his only sister, was not so very wrong. And from their eyes such affection did not resemble those of lovers.

Her brown skin covered her blushes and the table covered his hand inching up her leg hiking up her skirts or how her foot just so happened to be grazing whenever the wandering limb got particularly close to her cunt underneath such frills. Her own hand wished to touch him in the same way as she did.

She was not completely naive. She had seen the hounds at it once. Twas a vicious affair consisting of a stubby appendage making rapid pumps in and out of a puckered hole that made her stomach churn and wish to expel her breakfast. It could hardly be comforting for his mate.

One of the serving girls between fits of raucous laughter when her mistress had finally found the stomach and courage to do so told her it was how pups were made, but people were not dogs.

Still the question and the answer to that circled back around her this sweltering fortnight.

How would it be with him? Would he be quick? Would he be gentle? Would he take her from behind like a dog? He already had her pressed up against the wall twice now the ravenous mad dog he was. She knew that humans were different, but he had not even taken her to the bed as befitting her status.

What would it be like if he had? What would it be like to have him hovering over her? How would his flesh feel atop hers? How would his length feel like inside her? Would he let her touch him? Love him as he loved her? Hand drifting to where a growing tent was ensconced under his robes?

How would it be?

He certainly had to be bigger than a dog. He felt bigger than what she imagined the hound did deep inside his mate. Would his length bring her pleasure in the way that his hands had? Blind her with it and turn her into some lust ridden beast. She felt like that. Then. Now.

Oh, she was depraved, but he did not seem to mind her need when he had caught her staring at him with what she was sure was her need. Hands drifting.

“What's mine is yours sweet one,” the warmth of his breath fanned her nape as he spoke the words into her ear. Her cheeks warmed as he had taken her hovering hand in his bestowing a light kiss upon the supple brown flesh before he pulled away. His touch lingering where his lips could not.

It looked more like lively banter, albeit laced with the affections from the depths of their kinship, than the makings of a passionate tryst.

Even still she was not so green as to think that the eyes and ears of the Red Keep would not notice something if they kept on as they had. They were Targaryens after all and Targaryens were not so common as mere men in their desires and wants.

She had not followed him when he had left the Great Hall last night well before dessert was brought in. Their brother huffed and eyed the top of the man’s pale head in the crowd of ravens and browns and gold with some measure of suspicion, but he did not command him to stay.

Letting him leave without saying a word in protest.

Daemon did as he pleased and there was no point in keeping him, especially when his behavior raised brows from their more stodgy guests and the ones connected by law than by blood. The ones who would not understand this. What they meant to each other or how natural it was even beneath the sin.

After a time, which she had deemed appropriate where no one would guess what had been up to under the cover of that table where their hands had wandered and communicated what whispers and gazes could not in an overcrowded hall, she took her leave of the merriment.

Viserys did not seem to mind if she stayed either. Sending her off with a solitary flicks of his hand in the same direction that their brother had left.

She thought he was rather relieved to see her go. She could picture the small as her back turned to him. Feel his stare on the back of neck. He always seemed rather relieved to see her go. As did the rest of the hall save for her cousins. Her very existence raised brows and that was not limited to the ones who were supposed to love her best, the king included among them.

True enough he cared for her. Their father had seen to that as had Daemon, but he was not brotherly, barely familial and though he was old enough to be her father he had never taken upon that role after Baelon had met his abrupt end.

Too much like her mother she suspected. He had never been fond of the Naathni whore who had captured their fathers gaze.

Then again Viserys did not seem very fond of anything apart from his daughter and the little prince she had birthed who looked no more Valyrian than she. His indifference to her was really less to do with her blood and more to do with his general indifference to all things Viserys was not so concerned with the purity of their family and her lack of it, but Daemon, Daemon who loved her, Daemon who had defiled her, Daemon he was was another matter.

Daemon had not been particularly brotherly either with his comings and goings, but his indifference was a foreign concept to her. Her youngest brother had never hid his affections; his care for her even if those affections had turned into something more than it ought to be. Or something as it in truth should be.

“You’re a Targaryen sweet girl as much as I am.” He would always say when she questioned why he was so affectionate with her without a breath spared. Whispering in her ear and sealing his words with a kiss to her temple or peppering her face with sloppy kisses. Never mind the frowns and deep furrows they’d received for said affection. They wouldn’t understand.

Half was still a Targaryen. She was still a Targaryen no matter who her mother had been. That was the beginning and end of it or just the beginning.

It was why they were here and why she was presently in a half state of undress stuffed with her brother's fingers, soaking his hand with her slick and his mouth upon her breasts. They were Targaryens and Targaryens did what they liked. Would have what they liked. Take what they like. Conqueror.

As he had done with her. Twas in their blood. Her blood that was a siren call and he had answered. Like calling to like. Blood to blood. He had answered with his own call.

Silly and naive as it was, she had thought he had actually gone to bed. That he had gotten bored of her of the game they played, but he most decidedly had not.

She had only managed to make it a quarter of the way to her chambers before a pale hand shot out from the dark and pulled her back into it. Pulling her into a hard chest while his mouth caught the scream she was sure to have let out if not for his tongue tangling with hers in the most lovely dance swiping across her lips to gain entrance circling the roof of her mouth upon hers she had given into him without much fight.

And now what little fight she had had vanquished along with the rate of rapidly deteriorating care for anything apart from the feel of him upon her. In her. around her. Him. She had not cared for anything else since last night. Just him.

“Don't turn away from me, little one.” his hand had quickly enough found its way to up her skirts once more when his fingers finally pulled away from her lips.

The pale Targaryen man wasting no time venturing them up her leg. Grazing the smooth embellished bronze skin of her thighs until he found her warmth waiting for him. Placing a toned thigh between her legs and spreading them apart. Finding no resistance to stop him. To keep him from her. To keep this pleasure he wished to give her and she would take it all and thank him for it like a dog dying from thirst.

He could've commanded her to streak across that very dark, very quiet hall naked as the day she was and she would've gladly done so. She would've done anything with those digits working her through. A finger gliding across her glistening slit to collect her slick before bringing it up to tease her little button. Drawing crescents into the engorged nub as he grew moans and whimpers from her lips. Getting drunk off the noises. His breath upon her.

She had been shamefully wet. She still had some shame in that regard when she had heard the sound of her wetness filling in that tiny enclave. The pool of slick he made which stained them both and reached something in her that had her tightening around him and arching back on to him.

He found the places in herself she had never known and had never dreamed of knowing.

She had touched herself on occasion before. Feeble thing it was. Timid and unsure movements made when the castle had gone quiet and the only company she had were the moon's light, her slender hand, and her labored breaths. Each time no different than the last and neither was this attempt at self gratification. Not unpleasant, but it was not particularly eventful, nothing remarkable, nothing euphoric in it.

She did not have those flutterings spreading from the pit of her core. Had never spasmed around her fingers. Wet them with her arousal.

Only once had she ever attempted entering them within her channel and she had never tasted herself. She certainly had never lost herself in her fumblings. Not in this way. Never gone and she had been gone. She was gone.

Every thought left from her body besides that cresting feeling overtaking her like a wave in the harbor and she a ship soaked through with love embrace.

Gone enough to let him debase her there upon that wall where anyone might see them, see her like a common whore. Chanting his name like a possessed woman.

Daemon. Daemon. Daemon.

Gone enough to let him kiss away her moans. To whisper sweet things into her dampened flesh. Things that made her cheeks flush with warmth and her stomach clench in pleasure. Bearing down upon his fingers as she clung to him.

She was gone, gone, gone. And then he was gone.

“Patience is a virtue dear sister,” he had whispered onto her lips.

Gifting her one last kiss upon the hot skin beneath the shell of her ear just as she felt herself cresting over that little hill of fire which he had built, halting her as he pulled the ground from out under her.

He did not catch the gasp when he had pulled his fingers from her. A gush of her wetness went with him as he brought those digits to his lips to sample her excitement and left the rest to run down her thighs and stain that ruined silk that of course was then. A wink, and the inaudible groan he let out as he tasted were the last trendles of bliss he had afforded her, before he left her in that scorching void of need and agony, but that memory had been painted over with the vibrancy of desire.

Now whatever had made him leave her, whatever lesson he had tried to impart upon her, whatever, whatever he had seared into her mind with his, he had returned to her with great fury.

Passion reignited as he had thrown open the doors to her chambers after she had tried to slip through them in search of him. His lips were upon hers with not a word spoken between them as he removed all traces of what he was to say to him. The only thing cushioning her head from hitting the wall which he had backed them into was his hands placed behind her that softened the blow. Then it did not matter. What her septa thought, what did not matter. There had only been now.

Now she was not willing to let it slip through her fingers that were presently holding onto the pale man until she had her fill and more then.

“Don't leave me,” she rasped with a whimper out into the shell of his ear. The last bit of consciousness before the fall. The words choked out with a gasp for breath over the sound of the squelches growing in their obscenity and his panting into her skin.

it was pathetic it sounded childish to her own ears, but she was determined to let him know. To not have what had happened repeat to be left as she didn't think she could bear that. She would collapse into herself and never leave from this place he had set her atop above all the rest.

Passion faded. Flesh rotted. Bones turned to dust. Withering away until whatever had been her, the old her and the new was gone too.

She could not bear that.

“I never left you. I will never leave you sweet one.” She believed him.

Believed him as she could feel him at her fingers. The resolute beating of his pulse. Thump, thump, thump. The heat of his skin she managed to pull. His blood strumming through him.

Believed him as he lifted his head at last from where he had trailed his kisses down from her neck to her décolletage. The warmth of his breath fanning her exposed skin dampened by his hearty ministrations.

Daemon had come back, that is what mattered. He had never strayed. Not truly. Not in any way that mattered. He had come for her. He had found her and taken her for his own, giving her this gift of pleasure. This new her.

“Is this all for me sweet one?” He crooned out the question. Goosebumps erupted across her body as those long digits of his hit the back of her cervix, his pace unrelenting. “Is this why you

She wouldn’t have been able to contain her moan then even if she wanted to. Nor the shudder that wracked through her body as she folded into him. Nor answer him. Clawing at him. Pulling him tighter to her practically suffocating the man with her bare breasts having pulled down her flimsy gown as if he would flit away as he had before, but he did not. She would not. Not with the way he groaned into her skin. The way he lapped at whatever he could find as he sped up the pumps of his fingers within her heat.

There was something comforting in knowing that she had ruined him the same as he had ruined her.

Help her mother. If she had found the Gods on the rough pads of his fingers stroking her, loving her, what would she find on the end of his cock? What would that cock make her see, stroking her, loving her, how would she feel?

A moan interrupted her thoughts once more.

“That’s it sweet girl.” He teased with a nip at the back of her ear. Taking her lobe between his teeth to suckle upon as his fingers worked her through. In and out over that spongy spot he had. Striking a delicate balance as he kept her on the edge. The balance that she had missed. Come to crave.

A little heaven right under her nose which she had been kept from. Not that she was complaining, who would complain about heaven when they had reached it, but then she was in fact complaining. Whining again when he pulled his hand from her and with it that heaven.

The sound of her wetness around his fingers filling the still. Twitching around nothing after being filled for so long.

She felt empty. Cold somehow and empty. The air leaving out from her lungs. Left starving once more as she clawed at him. Her grip unrelenting.

She had forgotten what it felt like to feel so empty. It was somehow worse than when he left her crying in the hall. She detested it with every fiber of her being.

She whined and that whine turned into another moan when he brought those soaked digits to his lips to taste her. His eyes remained locked on her. Watching her as she squirmed around him.

He was a cruel man and he had chosen her to be on the receiving end of this cruelty.

Cruelty seemed to beget more cruelty. With a pop those fingers were and had voyaged to swipe them through her sticky folds. Torturing her, but she did not have to wait long. He plunged them back into her depths in the next breath. Reaching her cervix as he curled them. Leaving her shaking in his arms.

“Do you feel how wet you are for me sweetling,” he growled out eyes scanning her face for acknowledgement and when he received no such thing besides her quaking in his hold silent by the pleasure, he emphasized the point. Pressing his fingers deep into that spongy spot atop her walls, she answered his growl at last with a whimper.

She could do no more than whimper at the truth of it. The squelches of her heat playing on a loop. In and in and in. Not stopping. Never stopping as he worked her up the little hill he had molded. Her descent into the abyss threatening to undo came thundering down upon her like a clap of thunder. “Come for me sweetling.” And she did.

Giving into that magma that had been boiling over. Seeping into the hot puddle of her own bliss. Her vision swirling with life and her body trembling with wave after wave until all that was left was her soul.

Climax overtaking her until she felt nothing but those hands on her. arching into his fingers to draw out that fluttering feeling. Her stomach tightening with it. Body loosening into it until she was but a puddle of molten passion.

Oh Gods. Nothing more for what else was there, but this bliss. What else was there but this? What else could there be?

Strange and unearthly as it sounded she had left this mortal plane for that brief duration of her orgasm which seemed to stretch endlessly. That puddle of bliss an overflowing fountain which kept replenishing with the sweetest liquid ambrosia.

She hadn’t realized he had moved them to her bed until she felt the heaviness of his weight and the heat of his skin on top of her. Warming her now cool form contrasting with the feel of the soft linens and the fluff of her pillow at her back cushioning her.

He wore a smile and greeted her with a tone as if he were frightened that she might float away from him, but how could she after this.

“Hello.” The corners of his violet eyes which had regained some of their hue crickling with mirth as he petted her cheek with the back of his hand. Softer than she imagined it would be. It was the hand that had been inside with the way it glistened in the moon's light.

“I think you’ve broken me,” she returned barely above a whisper and more breathy than she would like, but not knowing what else to say. She felt broken. Like a ragdoll. Breathless and listless with what remained of her orgasm.

He laughed at her ragged state, but it was not the jeering sort. It was as airy as her own voice. Breathless happy if she would be so bold. Not just gloating he was truly happy. Pleased. Pleased with her. Pleased with pleasing her and he was far from being done doing so.

“I shall endeavor to do that more often than.” He brought his hand up to her cheek. Caressing the flushed skin from brow down to her nape with the back of his knuckles.

If she hadn't had the good sense to allow her maid to braid up her hair for the night as she had last night too restless with yearning for a relief that had never come till now to allow them to do such, He might’ve encountered loose coils which he could grip. Instead her mop of raven coils were braided neatly into two plaits resting upon her shoulders.

Though she imagined he might have liked the sight of her mane unbound considering he could not keep his hands from brushing the back of those coils, for he knew better now than to try to attempt to comb through the delicate strands, last night when they had been as such during the feast. Only adorned with a band of rubies atop her head to restrain them.

Her hair would have been a mess to comb in the morrow, resembling more a brittle bird's nest than hair and taking the better part of that very mourn to undo the damage which had been done, but she’d let him play.

She’d let him play with her whenever he’d like.

“Perhaps I can fuck the church mouse from you,” he mused. His thumb swiping across the expanse of freckles resembling a consolation across her nose. If he meant to raise offense to virgins sensibilities which had been bred into her that would have her hiding her embarrassment from his vulgarity he was surely to be disappointed at her reply for she met him in kind.

“Mayhaps I shall fuck the cruelty from you dearest brother.”

Wideyed staring up at him she expected a sharp quip for her cheek, perhaps another lewd castigation, but he was to disappoint her as much as she so joyously disappointed him.

“You’re so beautiful,” his hand had ventured to her lips, eyes darting between them and her brown gaze with not so much as a hint of mischief. “So beautiful.” She should have felt subconscious, full of virgins blush at the intensity in which he watched her, but the flush of lust was still coursing through her waiting to be attended to. Waiting in this hellish limbo that kept her from celestial rapture.

Bare before her, his robes discarded into a pile with her gown just outside the peripheral of her vision. Covering every inch of her person with his pale flesh and staring down at her. Staring straight through her and right down to her soul. The violet of his irises blown out, replaced with the black of his pupils, he looked the picture of it. Valyrian god come to life to lead her into wickedness.

Through her haze, she saw he was motioning towards her slightly parted lips swollen from his kisses he commanded her with a solitary word. “Suck.”

It was less vulgar and more reverent than one would expect from the meaning of the words. Less a command too, more like he had called her beautiful once more with that starry look in his eyes that suited him odd as it was though she did not need to be flattered and she certainly did not need to be told twice.

The taste was not unpleasant. Salty mainly, she did not taste of berries and honey, but there was a sweetness there. A sweetness which she could understand why men seemed to go wild from it, why Daemon seemed so eager to have her taste herself.

If she were to admit to it, and she hardly thought she could even at his command,it satisfied some dark perverse part of her crawling that crawled out with a tiny moan stiffened by his fingers, but that darkness still hungered. Wondering how Daemon would taste on her tongue.

To see him reduced to a mere husk of man that would see him beg her with that solitary word and throaty pants.

Her hand had crawled between their bodies blindly with want. Instinct drove her around this new bend as she took him in hand.

He was hot to the touch. His skin felt soft like velvet yet rigid with his arousal. Throbbing in her hand and far larger than that hound imprinted in her memory.

He allowed her to go on like that. encouraging her in her explorations as his hand joined hers between their bodies. Guiding her little tugs upon his length, but halted her movements when she had felt him begin to coat her hands with his spunk.

The haze of lust she found herself in abated somewhat with a slap placed onto the meat of her thigh which had her yelping at the sting of it.

Another was placed in that same spot rubbing the brown skin tender for good measure when she had tried to bring her hand to her mouth to taste him as he had tasted her. She could not meet his eye when he sneered down at her.

“I did not did not give you permission to do that sweet sister.”

Taking her hand in his as Daemon brought her fingers to his lips. Enveloping the digits into to suckle upon before releasing them not a half minute after with a pop that had her wetting her thighs that she tried clamping together for some relief, but was stopped by the hard body atop. Gods, did he have to keep her from this too?

“Greedy little thing whatever am I to do with you?” His eye sparkled with mirth at her whines and squirms beneath his person, but he took some mercy on her.

“Next time sweet one,” her brother promised. The tips of his pointer finger on the other hand that had not been in her tracing her lips as his bent head smirked down at her. She desperately wanted to meet the small admonition with a protest of her own making. Why could she not love him as he loved him, but he supplanted the words with a moan by way of his lips returning to its rightful place upon hers.

“Next time I’ll teach you how to use that pretty mouth.” He breathed into her his want.

Next time his promise swimmed in her head as her tongue wet and wild battled with his. Giving in as was becoming a habit when he swiped it across the nerves atop the roof of her mouth. She did not mind waiting for the next time if it would lead to this. She could wait for next time. Next time. Next time.

He wanted there to be a next time. He wanted a next time with her. Mayhaps even more than that if he made good on his promise. If he took her away from this half-life of dictums, indifference, and daggers hidden behind tight smiles. Mayhaps there will be a thousand next times. She could almost picture it beneath the clouds. Almost feel it if she just reached for it. If she just—

“Shh sweetling,” he panted out. Pulling away from the kiss, but only just for his lips still ghosted hers. the warmth of his breath fanning her fevered cheeks as he moved his hands to back up to cup her face as he murmured plaintives. “I’m right here.”

She did not know why, but she had begun to cry. She had not even aware she had, hadn’t even felt the telltale sting upon her cheeks nor tasted the salt of her tears, the thought of next time and its pleasures gripping hold of her til Daemon leaned down to kiss them away. Peppered her face with kisses as he shushed her.

Trying to calm her overtaxed state with his own branding. Bringing her back down from the skies which he had ascended her into with the gentleness of his touch. And yet he was far from sending her into that bliss. Next time could wait. There was a now to see too

She whimpered as he spread her legs, this time with his bare thigh which felt like a balm to that heat that was regrowing in the pit of her belly. Feeling the stretch and her own stickiness but mostly how sore she had become. Dear god he really was trying to send her to heaven or to whatever land of milk and honey he had come from or perhaps the land of fire and blood was a more apt description for it.

“Daemon please,” she begged, but he had only answered with a laugh and the tilt of her

“You’ve been neglected for far too long,” He was toying with her, teasing her. Controlling her movements as he grinded her heat down upon his thigh.

It was too much. It was not enough.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” That hand which had been guiding the erratic dilutions of her hips had shifted to the apex of her womanhood cupping her curls before pulling her labia apart to renew their efforts upon her pulsing button; it did not take much to send her spiraling delirious with want as she was.

“I don’t care,” and she didn’t. Feeling her orgasm crescendo once more with each circle he drew into her engorged clit. That hill so intoxicating a climb. Her sopping cunt pulsing around nothing as her clit thrummed, but so desperately needing to be filled as she once had. “I don't please.”

She wasn’t above begging now. Not when she had a taste. “I need you please I need you—- Daemon,” she choked on her moan as he answered her call. her nails digging into his back as he breached her pulsing walls. She could tell that she was drawing blood, but she had bled for him and the man atop her had choked out a groan of his own as he sheathed himself within her to the hilt.

He had been right there was pain but it was but a prick swiftly overtaken by that wave of pleasure which he brought the heady concoction that he made for her.

In out.

Not stopping.

Never stopping for she was a finely tuned instrument he knew only how to play.

Ever the master of his craft his mouth hot on hers as his tongue soaked up every song she gifted him. The long digits of his right hand remained on her clit. The pads of his fingers rubbing circle while his length bullied that spongy spot within her heat which once pulsed around his fingers while the fingers belonging to his left hand wrapped themselves around her throat. Squeezing as her walls squeezed his length. Milking him for all that he would give her.

She arched her hips up onto him when he tried to leave from her walls just to thrust himself deeper within them, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her need taking over as she let the man use her for their pleasure.

His thumb had never abandoned her clit as he kept himself seated deep within her quivering walls as she watched black dots blanketing her vision. A little death of the color he had painted over her world of gray, blind as she was, but there was so much more to feel.

This, this was the thing which she had needed. This was what she was meant for.

His skin upon hers. Sweat, spit, and spunk gluing their bodies together. The squelches from their lovemaking her spend and his combining with each tilt drowning out whatever remained of the world outside or even within the walls of these sultry chambers.

The push and pull of him stretching her. His rigid length dragged across her walls, filling her better than his fingers. She felt whole.

Each thrust somehow deeper and deeper. Carving out a space that had not existed before this, but was always to be. that want and longing that had tormented her so quelled like a babe at his mothers breasts.

She came around him, soaking him, squeezing him, without so much as a release of breath, but he was there to breathe for her. There to speak for her. There to be her anchor.

That's a good girl. That's my good girl. Gods, you're so tight, so tight. Naughty little thing you squeeze me so perfectly. That's it, he crooned, adores position by his low rasps of breath. Voice strained in the back of his throat as he commanded her, Let go for me.

It was not his words that undid her. Nor his grunts of pleasure he did not refrain from gifting her.

It was in his eyes that bore into her. Violet turned midnight eyes that mirrored her own which said You'll be my death you sweet thing, but I will not leave you. In. I belong here. In. In you. In. With you. In. You are mine. In. As I am yours.

In. In. In. In.

She shook beneath him and he groaned into the hollow space between her breasts. Eyelids fluttering shut as he bent into her. Squirting around his hot member as he spilled into her.

He was everywhere. Had taken everything from her body from the depths of her being and she did not care.

This was the beginning, the after, everything. Her body curled into itself. Curling around him. He did not stop and she did not want him to stop going further and further up a cliff which she did not know only that it was more than last time. Stronger too as she tumbled over into the welcoming arms of elation.

Time had lost all its meaning as her orgasm wrecked through body. White and silver the color of moonlight flashing across her. The salt of his skin the only taste on her tongue. The little grunts and moans they let out to the other as effortless as one's heartbeat. Where he ended and she began extended past where their bodies were joined for there was no him, no her, just this. Just them.

It was his hand that she came to the world of color. Petting her cheek as he had before when she had returned back to him from that mountain of bliss. Hand upon her bare hip a comforting weight, but he made no move to exert her further.

“I will not touch you, but I need to take care of you sweet one.” Another kiss, this one placed on the tip of her freckled nose as she exhaled, loosening that ball of energy that remained from her worn body.

Cupping her warm face between his palms as he leaned in so that his damped forehead rested upon hers. “Will you let me take care of you?" she nodded, that ragdoll feeling coming about her again, wanting to do but she knew better than to take his words in vain.

She laid there doll like upon a mountain of pillows that as he fetched a cloth and thimble of water from her wash basin. Still as naked as she, backside turned, throwing her a boyish smile every so often over his shoulder as he dampened the rag, but having no shame in her seeing him as such and she was too tired to be embarrassed by the sight of a naked man or to care what any others might think of it. Let them make what they like.

She would not trade this, seeing that lovely gaze with light in every corner of his face which made him look ten years younger for what had been before ruined as she was.

There was no talking as he washed slick and spend from her body. Stilted breaths, trembles when he dragged the cloth against her sour cunny, and little gulps of water from the chalice he handed to her when he had deemed his washing the only tune which played. Even the feast below them had gone well and truly quiet. The moon that hung low in the night sky which would soon glow a bloom of red and orange their only company.

Half bathed in the shadows he stretched out a pale hand towards her as he finally settled himself beside her. Having thrown the soiled rag clear across the room for one of her maids to find in the morning along with her, but that would wait til dawn broke free of the night.

The moon high his fingers glistened in its light with water droplets from the basin as she took that outstretched hand without pause. Daemon pulled her into him with one tug.

A feminine yelp and a contented sigh the brief interlude that cut the still. Nestling her head beneath his chin as he resumed stroking down her body.

Gentle.

It shocked her how he who could be so maddening who could elicit such scorn and want, even from her, yet he was still so gentle with her when it was all said and done. She couldn’t complain that he was so gentle resting there in his arms, but it was a shock albeit the most pleasant kind.

They went on like that. Time continuing to be immaterial. The soothing caresses down her bare back pulling her tenderly to the land of dreams. That contented quiet having quenched the hunger prevailing until he broke it.

Pulling her head slightly away from his shoulder where she had rested to lift her chin up enough to face him but not quite enough to pull her in for another sweet kiss or a searing one to begin their lovemaking anew as she had thought. She was not so very tired and the sun was still aslumber, but then she met his eye.

Brown met Violet as their gazes aligned.

“Come away with me.” He whispered. His voice sounded just as boyish as he looked then. A slight bit of apprehension beyond the brilliance of his gaze, but so full of hope. A hope she would not leave unanswered.

Meeting him the rest of the way she leaned into his touch. Her lips grazed his as she breathed her reply into him.

“Okay.” She’d follow him anywhere. Into bliss and beyond.

Ao3 Link:

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x sister!reader #daemon targaryen #hotd fic #daemon targaryen x black!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #bnhotdfic #see what I did with the title 👀#I might be making this spicer than it is but an attempt was made 🔥

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