#her car smelled of something familiar that i could not put my finger on

[mysecret-hideout]

.

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Orange Juice Pairing - Tyler Owens x Female!Reader Summary - When it's time to interview a group of storm chasers for your new book, you get sent back to your hometown. You never would have guessed one of the people you'd be interviewing would be your ex boyfriend. And you might still be a little in love with him. Word Count - 13k my god I'm sorry Playlist Warnings - 18+ ONLY. Tyler Smut. Language

Everything looked the same, but somehow different. 

You hadn’t stepped foot in this town in ten years, and you were nervous as hell to be here now. This town held a lot of memories and people that you hadn’t visited in a long time. If your agent had told you where you had been going before putting you on the plane, you probably would have asked if there was somewhere else, some other storm chaser group that wasn’t based in Arkansas you could interview. She believed that she was doing a nice thing, surprising you with a trip to your hometown. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it may be your hometown, but it also was home to your worst memory. 

A sigh left your lips as you pulled up to a familiar gas station, and pushing the memories out of your mind, you put the car in park. 

The Tornado Wranglers. That was the group of chasers you would be talking to. Your agent had insisted that they were the best of the best. Apparently they had a very large YouTube following, and their leader was, “charismatic and oozed charm”, according to your agent. He was also the hottest cowboy she’d ever seen. 

Those words brought a faint smile to your face, and you pulled out your phone to text her. 

Landed, and am currently waiting at the gas station. 

A few moments later, a response came through. Any sign of hot cowboys yet? 

You let out a laugh. Not yet, but I’ll keep you informed. 

Your fingers settled on the door handle. There was no reason to put this off anymore. You were here, and you were going to have to face what was out there, for better or worse. You opened the door and climbed out of your car. 

It smelled the same. The gas station had been updated to be more modern, but the faint scent of gasoline and rice from the farms remained. Walking inside, you found little had changed. There was an updated register, a few more products offered, but that was about it. When your eyes caught sight of your favorite candy, a grin spread across your face, and you found yourself reaching for them, even though you hadn’t had them in years. 

You didn’t recognize the cashier, which you were grateful for. A part of you had almost expected everyone you knew to pop out of nowhere as soon as your feet touched the ground. Now you realized how ridiculous that was. In fact, you might go this whole trip without setting eyes on a single person from before. Thanking the cashier, you made your way back outside right on time to see a large red truck turning in followed by a camper that was blaring a Tanner Adell song. You couldn’t see the driver of the truck because of the cowboy hat and sunglasses that partially obscured his face, but the guy in the passenger seat recognized you at once. “Hey! That’s her!” You could hear him say it since his window was open. 

The guy pulled to a stop, and the one in the passenger seat ran around the front of the car. His hair was dark and shoulder length, but covered with a baseball cap, and the bottom half of his face supported some facial hair. He was dressed much like you expected a tornado chaser to dress, shirt and shorts in different shades of dark green with a bandana around his neck. “Hey, I’m Boone.” He said, holding out his hand for you. “I gotta say, I’m a big fan.” He said the last part in an almost whisper, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear him. 

Which, considering you wrote romance books, he probably didn’t. Not the first man to say something similar to you, you nodded with a sincere smile, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. You guys are the Tornado Wranglers I’m assuming?” 

“Yeah, that’s Dexter and Dani.” He said pointing to two people that were exiting the camper behind them. “There’s Lily.” He said, pointing to a girl getting out of another car that you hadn’t even noticed. “And this is our fearless leader, Tyler.” 

At that moment, the world around you slowed down. In fact, you were pretty sure all the air was sucked out of your lungs. It couldn’t be him. Out of every person in the world you could be working with, it couldn’t be the one . . . But he took off his cowboy hat, and even though it had been ten years, he was unmistakable. You would know that face anywhere, after all, you saw it all the time in your dreams. 

For a moment, you thought he might not recognize you. It had been ten years, you’d both changed in that time, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he knew exactly who you were. He said your name, pure disbelief in his tone as he took a step forward. 

You nodded, unsure of how to respond. The two of you hadn’t left on the best of terms, but there were so many years before that. So many beautiful memories that you’d never be able to forget. Half of you wanted to run and hide, the other half (okay maybe more like three fourths) wanted to run into his arms. How could you do that though when you were the one who left? 

Tyler didn’t hesitate though. You watched as a slow grin formed on his face that turned into a bright smile, a smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, and the next moment he was hurrying towards you. Within seconds you were wrapped up in a hug so tight your feet weren’t even on the ground anymore. 

God it felt good. You slid your arms around his neck, hugging him back just as tight, and let out a little laugh as he spun you around. Your eyes closed automatically, and you realized at that moment while you may have written about the way Tyler made you feel, it was nothing compared to the actual emotions. You remembered how his arms always felt like home, and it was no different now. They must have some sort of magic, because no matter how long it had been, they brought your mindset right back to the teenager who was crazy in love with her boyfriend. 

After what was probably too long, Tyler put you back on the ground, slowly and a little too intimately for the strangers his team thought you were. In fact, he didn’t even fully let go of you, keeping his hands on your hips. You found yourself unable to let go of him too though, your hands resting on his forearms as he stared at you in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You said, squeezing his arms. “You’re a storm chaser?” It made perfect sense when you thought about it. Tyler had always had such a good instinct for weather. You couldn’t count the amount of times during school when he told you football games were going to get canceled because it was going to storm. He was never wrong. You just never expected him to quit bull riding. 

“Yeah, got a meteorology degree from U of A and everything.” Tyler said, and your breath caught in your throat. Not just because his thumbs had started stroking your hips, but because of his words too. 

Tyler had done it. He had done what you had always known he was beyond capable of doing. The shy smile on his face, the love, care, and pride you still, and always would have for him rushed to the surface. Overwhelmed with emotions from the past, you felt tears fill up your eyes as you looked at him. “I’m so proud of you, Ty.” You told him, and you meant every word. 

There was no other way to describe it. He was beaming, and god you had forgotten how beautiful that smile was. It was like the sun, almost too bright to look at. 

“I get the feeling you two know each other?” 

You had forgotten that little aspect of being with Tyler. How everything else would disappear the moment he looked into your eyes. You took a step back from him, letting go of his arms even though every part of your body wanted you to keep touching him. His hands lingered on you for a moment, but then he let go as well. “I guess you could say that.” Tyler said, “this is the girl that broke my heart ten years ago.” 

“Wait,” one of the girls, you were pretty sure it was Lily, stepped forward. “I thought that girl’s name was-”

They knew your name. Tyler had talked about you enough that they knew who you were. “That is my name. My writing name is a pseudonym.” You admitted. Heat rushed to your skin, but there was no malice in Tyler’s voice or face. He was just looking at you with a fond smile, as if lost in the same memories you found swirling around in your mind. 

“So, you’re a big time writer now, huh? You always did tell the best stories.” Tyler said. 

“Man, you should read them. In fact, now that I think about it, one of the main guys kinda reminds me of-” Boone started to say, but you cut him off. 

There was no way you were ready for that conversation. “So, um, where did you guys want to talk?” You spoke up, trying to change the subject as subtly as you could. 

The look Tyler gave you said he saw right through your bullshit, but he didn’t comment on it, just grinned mischievously at you. “How about Frankie’s?” 

Of course he would suggest Frankie’s. It was the bar that the two of you used to go to all the time after rodeos. There were a lot of memories of playing pool, laughing with friends and dancing to whatever band was playing there. While you weren’t sure you were ready for all those memories to hit again, the draw of going back there with Tyler was too much. “Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll meet you guys- ”

“No need for that. You can ride with me.” Tyler said, patting the large red truck. 

Being in an enclosed space with your ex boyfriend definitely didn’t seem like a good idea. “Oh, that’s not-”

“It’s really cool. You’ll want to take a peek. He customized it all himself and everything. This baby can drive straight into a tornado.” Boone said while Tyler continued to grin at you. 

“Research is what you’re here for right?” Tyler asked you. 

Yes. That was a good reminder for yourself. You were here to learn about the essentials of storm chasing for your next book, not to spend all your time thinking about how good Tyler looked after ten years. “Right,” you agreed, and then watched as Tyler walked all the way over to the passenger seat and held it open for you. 

“Well, in that case, right this way ma’am.” 

————————

To your slight surprise, Tyler kept everything professional in the truck. He showed you all the features, and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it all. It was impressive, not only what he had thought of, but had attached himself. “Is this normal? I mean do a lot of storm chasers have vehicles they’ve rigged up?” 

“Nothing like this.” He said with pride in his voice as he grinned over at you. “I spent years putting this thing together.” 

“When you do something, you always go big.” You teased, smirking at him. “Remember that time in high school when we just wanted to fill the principal's office with ducks, and instead you said we should fill the whole school?” 

Tyler scoffed. “Of course I do. I got a month of detention for that because Belinda ratted me out.” 

“You did stand her up for a date.” You reminded him. 

“Yeah well,” Tyler glanced over at you again. “You needed me.” 

Your cheeks heated as the memories of that night flooded your mind. It hadn’t been long after your Dad had passed. You had gotten stupid drunk at a party that he hadn’t wanted to go to. You had been walking home, stumbling home really, when a familiar truck pulled up beside you. It turned out that Tyler had been waiting nearby for at least an hour after feeling like something was off. 

He held you in his arms in that truck for hours while you cried, letting out emotions you’d been holding back for months. Then he took you home and snuck into your bedroom to hold you some more. The next morning you told him you didn’t want to be just friends anymore. He told you he hadn’t wanted to be just friends for a long time. 

The two of you were inseparable from that moment until the day you left. Almost as if he could sense where your mind was, a palpable tension filled the truck. 

You weren’t ready to talk about it though. 

Thankfully you were saved from any further discussion as your phone went off with a text. It was from your agent, checking in again. 

“Boyfriend?” Tyler asked. 

You shot him a look, trying to bite back a smile. “That’s not very subtle of you.” 

He sent you a look right back. “Wasn’t trying to be.” 

“Agent.” You answered, choosing to ignore his response. “Who I now have to awkwardly tell that the ‘hottest cowboy she’s ever seen’ is actually my ex-boyfriend.” 

“So you really had no idea?” Tyler asked. 

You shook your head. “Not a clue. I didn’t even know where I was going until I got to the airport and she sent my travel information.” 

“Gotta say . . . I’m surprised. I never thought you’d step foot in the town again.” He said, pulling into the small parking lot. 

Glancing up at the building, you bit your bottom lip. “I wasn’t sure I would either.” 

Frankie’s was exactly what you would picture when you hear the words, “small town bar”, but as soon as you walked in, you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity. It was big for a small town bar, featuring bars on both sides of the room, plenty of tables, as well as a couple of pool tables, and a stage with a small dancing space in front of it. Most of the furniture was wooden and looking a little rough, but they kept the lighting dim enough that it wasn’t very noticeable. There weren’t a whole lot of people, but there was no band playing, and it was a weekday night. It put you a little more at ease. 

“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” You said, looking around. 

Tyler shook his head in agreement. “That’s why I love it so much. Feel like I’m right back into my early twenties when I walk back in here.” 

“That was a long time ago for you.” You teased. 

He clutched his chest, scrunching his eyes at you and giving you a wounded look, but there was a playful edge to it. “Ouch. So you do still have some bite to you.” 

You smirked at him. “You bring it out in me.” 

Tyler’s frown turned to a grin as he placed his hand on the small of your back, sending chills down your spine. “Let’s grab a booth for everybody.” 

The next several hours consisted of you asking the Tornado Wranglers crew every question you wrote down as well as thought of. They not only answered honestly, but never talked down to you like you were stupid for not knowing something either. You loved the relationship that they clearly had with each other. They treated each other like family, with their own strengths and weaknesses that the other members of the team either supported or built upon. You knew immediately it was something you were going to want to include in your book. Not only that, but they were hilarious, and since they knew who you were, they seemed to be ribbing Tyler extra hard. 

“All right, you know damn well that was an accident.” Tyler said, pointing a finger at Dexter who was laughing hysterically along with the rest of the table. 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t sound like an accident to me Tyler.” You said, raising your eyebrows at the man sitting next to you. 

Tyler narrowed his eyes at you and bumped your knee with his under the table. “Now don’t you start.” 

“Hey, don’t be rude to our guest.” Dani said. 

“Too late for that. He hasn’t even gotten her a drink yet.” Lily spoke up, shaking her head at him in disappointment. 

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

Tyler shook his head. “No, they’re right.” He started sliding out of the booth. His hand reached up and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got you.” 

“I notice he didn’t ask you what you wanted to drink.” Dexter said with a little grin after Tyler made his way to the bar. 

You bit your bottom lip. You hoped he remembered. “We’ve known each other a long time.” 

“Okay, now that he’s gone.” Boone leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “One Last Rodeo. Theo. He’s based on Tyler isn’t he?” 

Heat rushed to your face. So Boone definitely had read your books. Looking back on it, it was pretty obvious that your first book had been based on Tyler. You were heartbroken, and trying to find a way to get it out on the page. The book was your way of coping with your breakup and how you wished it would have ended instead of the way that it did. By the time someone wanted to actually publish it, you realized how obvious the similarities were, and it was one of the reasons you wanted to write under a fake name. Since Boone had read your book, and now knew that Tyler was your ex . . . It couldn’t have been hard to put together. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it outloud. “A writer never tells her secrets.” You said. 

They were all grinning at you though. “Oh, look how flushed her face is.” Dani said. 

“It’s definitely about him.” Lily said. 

You opened your mouth to deny it, even though it seemed pointless, but before you could you were interrupted. “Here you go,” he said, sliding back into the booth and putting a glass filled with an orange drink in front of you. 

“What is that?” Boone asked, “some kind of tropical-”

“Orange juice.” You answered, smiling over at Tyler. “You did remember.” 

Tyler gave you a look of disbelief, like he was insulted. “Of course I did.” When he saw the confused looks of his friends he explained, “she doesn’t drink.” 

“Twelve years sober.” You said. “Not something I’m against anyone else doing, it’s just not for me.” Tyler slung his arm over the back side of the booth closest to you, and you had to fight the immediate urge to lean back into his embrace. The rest of the team was smirking at you, and you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. “So I’ve just got one more question for you guys.” You said trying to change the subject. 

“Fire away.” Dani said. 

“Why do you guys do it?” That was what you really wanted to know. “I grew up here. I know how dangerous, how scary these things can be. Why do you guys willingly risk your life for something that seems to have no real reward?” 

There was silence around the table for a moment, and you made sure to avoid Tyler’s face. When you had written these questions, you had no clue he was one of the ones you’d be asking, and this question hit a little too close to the reason for your breakup. You didn’t think you could look at him if he answered. 

“We like to help.” Lily said. “That’s a factor. We sell these shirts, and we use the money to get people stuff like food and water.” 

“Then there’s just the beauty of it. Yes, it’s dangerous and destructive, but there’s also something incredible about it as well. There’s so many factors to tornados we don’t understand. Seeing them come together in person is . . . Indescribable.” Dexter added, while they all nodded their heads in agreement. 

“There’s the adrenaline too.” Boone spoke up with a grin. “I’ve never felt more alive than when we’re chasing.” 

Your body tensed at his words, memories of your last argument with Tyler trying to invade your mind. Once again, you felt sure he could sense what you were thinking as you felt his gaze on the side of your face. 

“It’s hard to put into words without actually seeing it.” Tyler said. “You should come on a chase.” 

That made you look at him, your eyes wide in shock that he would even suggest it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why not?” Tyler leaned towards you. “Scared?” He asked with a smirk. 

“Yes.” You answered honestly. 

“Ah, you’d be perfectly safe with Tyler. He’s got a knack for these things.” Boone said, and you looked over at him to find him grinning at the two of you. “You’d barely be in any danger at all.” 

You didn’t doubt that, but heading straight into something that could be so destructive had never been your thing. Hell, you hadn’t even gotten on a horse until Tyler talked you into it. “Still, any danger is too much danger for me.” 

Tyler shrugged. “The offer is there if you change your mind.” Tyler said, and you knew him well enough to see the flash of disappointment on his face. 

Weirdly, you felt a little disappointed in yourself too. 

————————

For the past hour, you’d been pacing around your motel room. Tyler had driven you back to your car, then followed you to the motel that funnily enough, him and the rest of the Wranglers were staying at as well. It was the only motel in your hometown, but knowing that Tyler was a few doors down from you made you anxious. 

God, seeing him again had been your worst nightmare and best daydream all rolled into one. It was so easy to think that after ten years you were over someone. Then you see them again, and everything comes flooding back. All the beautiful memories and all the mistakes you wish you could take back, and there were a lot of mistakes you wished you could take back with Tyler. You’d never loved anyone the way you loved him, and you didn’t think you ever would. Seeing him again had reminded you of that. 

Letting out a sad sigh, you sat down on your bed. Then there was Tyler’s invitation and disappointment. You hated disappointing him almost as much as you hated disappointing yourself. It had taken several years of therapy and hard work to not be so scared of ending up with the same fate as your father. You had grown though. You had learned about yourself and the things that caused those reactions. While getting close to a tornado was definitely dangerous, you knew that Tyler would take care of you. You also knew that you didn’t want to miss out on any more experiences in your life because you were afraid. 

You stood up, not allowing yourself another moment to try and talk yourself out of it, and left your room, knocking at the one three doors down. 

Tyler answered, clad in his white t-shirt and jeans, and smiled when he realized it was you. “Hey, what’s up?” 

Good lord was there ever a moment when this man didn’t look incredible? You swallowed, then nodded. “I changed my mind.” 

He leaned against the doorway, eyebrows raised in confusion. “About what?” 

You took a deep breath. “I wanna go on a chase.”

Tyler beamed. 

————————

It took three days for a storm to come through that Tyler felt good about. They had done some chasing in that time, but Tyler hadn’t brought you along because he said they hadn’t been the “right one”. The wait made you anxious, but you trusted Tyler’s instincts, and every night they were back at the motel ready to tell you about their day. You thought that they might eventually get bored of all your questions, but they were not only great, but amazing storytellers as well. You could see why their YouTube channel was so popular. 

Not that you spent a whole day watching it while they were gone or anything. 

Finally though, the day arrived and you found yourself standing outside by Tyler’s truck waiting for the team to join you, your heart pumping a little faster than normal. “Morning!” A voice called, pulling your attention away from inspecting Tyler’s truck again, and you saw the man in question heading towards you with a paper sack in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “Haven’t talked yourself out of this yet?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. I’m doing this.” You smiled as Tyler handed you the coffee and bag. “Did you seriously get-?”

“Your breakfast sandwich and coffee? Yes, you need fuel for the road.” Tyler used his now free hands to open the door for you. “Hop on in, and let’s get going.” 

“Wait,” you said, glancing around. “Is everyone else meeting us there?” 

Tyler leaned against the door, and you watched as he looked at the sky behind you, then turned his gaze back to you. “Nah, I gave them the day off. I didn’t want you to have to deal with pressure from them if we get there and you decide not to do this.” 

You bit your lip. He was always so thoughtful. Back when he knew you, he would have had to drag you to this truck kicking and screaming, which he never would, and the fact that he wanted to save you some embarrassment in case you decided not to do this was just like him. Unable to help yourself, you reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” You said sincerely. 

“Well,” you inhaled sharply as Tyler took a little step closer to you. “I’ve got to admit, getting you alone for the day also played a factor.” 

Your eyes widened and a shy smile formed on your face even while your mind was spinning. Over the past few days there had been brief moments where you thought Tyler might have been flirting with you, but you talked yourself out of it. Now though . . . Was there actually a chance this man still wanted you? He couldn’t. Not after how you had treated him. It didn’t make sense. “You might end up regretting that, you know?” You told him. 

Tyler reached up, and your whole body froze as he brushed some hair behind your ear. “I’ve never regretted a moment I’ve been with you.” 

His response took the breath from your lungs. “Ty . . .” You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating so fast it hurt. How could he possibly not regret that night? The night that you broke his heart? 

“I’ve missed you calling me that, you know?” He smiled at you, and then took a step back. “Come on, let’s get going.” 

Once again, you wanted to say something, but what? Nothing sounded right in your mind. So instead you hopped up in the truck and watched as he closed the door behind you. 

————————

“Can I be honest?” You asked him several hours later. 

“I didn’t realize you ever weren’t.” Tyler joked, sending you a smirk. 

You swatted at him playfully. “I didn’t expect all the waiting. What happens if nothing comes?” 

“Oh, something’s gonna happen.” He insisted, looking at some clouds in the distance. “Don’t you have any faith in me?” 

While he was kidding, you didn’t stop the serious words that slipped past your lips. “You know I have all the faith in the world in you.” 

Ty’s smile turned from something joking to something genuine. “Even after all these years?” 

You smiled at him. “It never stopped. I always knew you were destined for great things.” You admitted, and it was the truth. In fact, you’d never been more sure of anything in your life. 

“Just not riding on the back of a bull.” He replied, and though he winked at you, the mention of one of the reasons from your breakup filled the air with tension. 

Then the question that you had been dying to ask since you first saw him burst from your lips. “Why did you quit?” 

Tyler looked at you then, and you knew that look well. He was reading your expression, your eyes, your body language. He’d always been able to tell what you were thinking simply by looking at you, and this time was no different. “It wasn’t because of you.” He said, reaching over to place his hand on top of yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I mean, you were part of the reason, but it was more about me realizing you were right, and I could do more with my life.” 

He knew you had been carrying that guilt of wondering if you were the reason he quit something that he had loved so much. He told you that you weren’t, but you still frowned, looking out at the darkening sky miles away. “I wish I’d said it differently.” 

There was silence for a moment as you two watched the storm, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more reflective, and your thoughts were only confirmed when he spoke up. “Do you ever wonder where we’d be now? If you’d stayed?” 

If only he knew . . . “I guess that depends.” You bumped your shoulder against his. “Would you have proposed by now?” You teased, but a part of you wanted to know the answer. 

Tyler grinned at you, an adoring look on his face. “Oh definitely.” 

A flush heated up your face as a pleased smile fell on your lips. “Then I guess we’d be married and driving each other crazy.” 

“Not to mention being driven crazy by the kids.” Tyler added. 

You let out a laugh. “After ten years, you still want three kids?” 

“Three is a good number.” He defended. 

You rolled your eyes. “You know I have this friend now. She just had her fourth. Going over to her house almost makes me not want any at all.” 

“That’s because she has four. Three, perfect number.” Tyler said, holding up three fingers. “Four?” He added a finger. “Now that’s just asking for trouble.” 

“Especially if they were your kids.” You added, grinning over at him. 

“Ah, we could handle them.” Tyler said with a wink in your direction. 

A vision formed in your mind of what he was describing. Three kids, all of varying ages, but in your mind it was two boys and one girl. The boys would be almost an exact copy of Tyler, blonde hair and blue-green eyes, dimples and charming smiles. Troublemakers, but also sweethearts who cared deeply and loved life to the fullest. Then the little girl. She definitely had a majority of your features but with Tyler’s smile. She would have Tyler so wrapped around her finger it would almost be embarrassing. Then there’d be Tyler and you, watching all the craziness unfold from your back porch with a glass of sweet tea in your hands. You were happy. You were loved, and you were home. 

At that moment, you realized you never wanted anything so badly in your life. You wanted it so badly your chest literally ached with it. Looking over at Tyler made it hurt worse. You thought being away from him would make the love you had fade, but it turned out, the opposite had occurred. In fact, seeing him watch the sky with a content smile and talking about what could have been made you realize you loved him more now. You had loved him in high school, you’d loved him in his early twenties, but this was different. You were different and so was he. 

The question was . . . Would he take you back if you tried? You knew you didn’t deserve it. You were the reason the two of you broke up. If you were in his shoes, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. Tyler had always been a better person than you though. 

Was it worth a shot trying? 

“Hey,” Tyler pulled you out of your thoughts, lifting your hand and pointing it to something in the distance. “Do you see those clouds?” 

You looked out to where he was pointing your hand and frowned. Those definitely looked dark, and they were . . . “Are those spinning?” 

“That’s the updraft, and it’s cycling.” He told you. 

“And that means . . .”

“That means-” Tyler stood up, put his baseball cap back on his head, and held out his hand to help you off the bed of his truck. “We’ve got a winner.” 

————————

You were going to throw up. At least it felt like you were. Not five minutes after you guys reached the storm did a tornado touchdown. Tyler said it was rated for an EF1, so it would be safe to drive into. Well, as safe as driving into a tornado could be. As fast as your heart was pounding, and as sick as you felt you might be, you leaned forward to get a better look out the window. You couldn’t deny the beauty in it. “I’ve never seen something so amazing and scary at the same time.” You admitted. 

“It’s incredible isn’t it?” 

As nervous as you were, the look on Tyler’s face made you smile. God you hadn’t seen him this excited since he had been on the back of a bull. “It is. Especially when it doesn’t look like it’s going to kill me.” 

Tyler laughed, and he pulled to a stop. “Nah, this is just an EF 1. This and the truck are going to keep you completely safe.” Tyler said, reaching to tug at the harness he had secured so tightly to your body that you felt like you couldn’t take a deep breath. 

As you watched the tornado race forward, you felt your heart rate start to kick back up and took a deep breath. “And you too right?” You asked, biting your bottom lip. 

He parked the truck and faced you, a rare serious expression crossing his face. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” 

At that moment, you realized you did. Tyler would never willingly put you in danger. He cared about you too much. If he said it was safe, it was. “I do.” You agreed, taking a deep breath, well, as much as you could in this harness. “Let’s do this.” 

The grin came back to his face full force as he started pressing buttons on his truck, anchoring it down into the ground as the tornado got closer and closer. “You’re gonna love this.” 

”Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Even though you knew you were safe, there was nothing quite like a tornado heading straight towards you while you’re stuck in place. “Tyler . . . This is crazy.” 

It was getting closer and closer. Only yards away, and your heart was pounding harder and harder in your chest. You didn’t even think. Your hand reached for his, gripping it tightly as the tornado hit the truck. 

Tyler gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “look up.” He called over the wind, and you did as he asked, leaning towards your side of the car to see out the window. 

It was the most incredible thing you’d ever seen. You could see all the way up the funnel to the clouds above as the vortex passed over you. You’d never seen anything like it in your life, and a laugh of disbelief left your lips as you watched it pass over you. When it was done you looked over at Tyler, shock all over your face. “Was that real? Did that actually just happen? Did I just see inside a damn tornado?!” 

Letting out a chuckle at your questions, Tyler nodded. “You sure as hell did.” 

You let out another laugh yourself and started unbuckling all of your straps. You needed one last look to convince yourself that you had done it. Once you were free, you hopped out of the truck, running around the back to watch it keep going through the field behind you. You heard the truck door close again, but you didn’t turn around, still mesmerized, until you felt Tyler’s hand on your shoulder. 

“So, how do you feel?” He asked. 

His question was loaded for so many reasons. Years ago, he never would have gotten you close enough to even see a tornado, much less let it speed over you. You were so proud of yourself for doing this, but also sad. How many other life experiences had you missed because of how your father’s life choices had traumatized you? There was no good way to answer his question, so you just did what you wanted to. You jumped up, latching your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist. 

Of course he caught you easily, laughing as he spun you around and held you close. One of his hands rested on your back, while the other cradled your head against his shoulder. After a moment, he let out a content sigh. “I’m so proud of you.” 

You clutched tighter to him. He had no idea how much those words meant coming from him. Tyler had seen you at your absolute worst, when you had no one but him. You had clung to him then, leaning on him more than was healthy until you knew that you couldn’t anymore. It made you want to cry, knowing how far you had come and that Tyler could see it. You pulled back to look at him so he could see your watery smile too. “I’m proud of myself.” 

The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults as he looked at you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you felt his arm muscles tense against your back. There was tension in the air, no doubt about it, and you found your eyes drawn to those familiar soft lips. You wanted to kiss him. A part of you wondered if it would be the same, or even better because you both were older. You weren’t sure, but either way, you wanted to find out. When you saw his eyes glance at your lips too, you knew he was thinking the same thing. Unable to help yourself, you let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling yourself the slightest bit closer to him until your noses were brushing. 

Then his phone rang. 

Whatever spell the two of you had been under broke. Tyler slowly let you down to the ground, but reached for your hand, tangling your fingers with his and keeping you close. “Hey, Boone, what’s up?” 

You glanced down at your hands with a soft smile. Tyler’s hands were big and calloused from work and bulls, but they felt nice. You brushed your thumb on the outside of his palm, and he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“Yeah, we got one. She handled it like a pro.” Tyler told him, grinning over at you. There was a bit of silence for a moment as the phone conversation continued. “Let me ask her, and I’ll let you know? All right, sounds good. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and tugged you a little closer again. “Feel like celebrating seeing inside your first tornado?” Tyler asked. 

————————

Three hours later you found yourself in new clothes, freshly showered, line dancing between Dani and Boone. You were almost crying from laughing so hard, and your face hurt from smiling so much. It blew your mind that two weeks ago you were sitting in your apartment in South Carolina feeling alone and stuck with writer's block. Now you were back in your hometown, having a blast, writing faster than you had in years, and desperate to get back together with the man who was watching you from the booth, an adorable smile on his face. Feeling a little bold after your almost kiss, you sent him a wink as Boone spun you around, causing his smile to widen. 

“You guys are disgustingly cute.” Dani said as the song slowed down and the three of you started to exit the floor. 

Heat rushed to your face, and you found yourself asking the question you’d been wanting to ask for days. “Why have you guys been so nice to me anyway? Tyler’s your best friend, and I’m his ex. I broke his heart, but you’ve been nothing but kind to me since the start.” 

Boone and Dani exchanged a look. “Yeah, you’re right. If it had been another one of Tyler’s exes we probably would hate you.” Boone said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“But you were the one who got away for Tyler, and he’s never said anything but great things about you. Plus,” Dani reached out and patted your shoulder. “It's kinda obvious the two of you are still in love with each other.” 

The words hit you like a truck, and then you felt stupid for not realizing it before. You looked at the man sitting at the booth again. This time he was talking to Dexter, his expression animated, and his hands moving wildly with his words. Of course you still loved him. You never stopped. You buried it, hid from it so you could try to better yourself. When you left, you knew you weren’t good enough for him, you probably still weren’t, but now you knew you could love him like you were supposed to. If he was open to it. Boone and Dani made it seem like he was. He had given you signs that he was at least interested . . . The only question was how could you show him that you wanted it too? 

An idea hit, and a small smile formed on your face. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute okay?” You said to their confused faces and headed to the DJ stand. You gave him twenty bucks, which he gladly took, and promised your song would be next. By the time you’d made it back to the booth where everyone was seated, Never Leave by Bailey Zimmerman was playing. 

You approached Tyler, who was looking at you curiously as you held your hand out to him. “Dance with me?” You said, biting your bottom lip. 

A surprised, but happy smile formed on his face. “Yes ma’am.” 

It was not your and Tyler’s first dance. Probably wasn’t even your hundredth, and dancing with him was as effortless as remembering how to ride a bike. One of his hands rested on the small of your back while the other took yours. You placed your hand on his bicep, giving his arm a squeeze. You didn’t want to say anything. The lyrics of the song could do all the talking for you. Tyler led you around the floor with ease, and as the song went on, you could see the moment the words started to sink in. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours,  and he whispered your name so reverently it made you close your eyes.

“Just listen,” you said softly, tightening your grip on his hand, letting the song say the words you wanted to. Tyler’s arm pulled you even closer until it was almost hard to dance, your bodies pressed against each other. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care anymore. You were laying it all out there now. 

As the song ended, you felt Tyler’s lips against your forehead, soft and lingering. Warmth exploded throughout your body, and you pulled back to look up at him. 

“Come back to the hotel with me?” You asked, your thumb caressing his arm, almost pleading with your voice. 

Tyler’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, and you immediately leaned into his touch, your whole body craving it. “Are you sure?” He asked. 

You nodded. There was nothing you were more sure about right now.

He took a step back from you, grabbing your hand and tugging you back to the booth where everybody else was sitting with knowing eyes. He told them that the two of you were leaving. You tried to ignore them, but you couldn’t help but grin when you saw them giving you a thumbs up or silently cheering as Tyler had his back turned. 

The ride was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was more filled with tension, and the two of you kept glancing at each other and smiling. He never let go of your hand either until he parked at the motel and came around to open your door. Before you could get down though, he stopped you. “This is what you want right? I don’t want to misinterpret what I think is happening here or pressure you in any way-”

You placed your hands on his face and leaned closer, interrupting him with your first kiss in ten years. 

For a moment, he didn’t respond. It was clear you had surprised him, but then his hands gripped your hips, and he was kissing you back. 

It was even better than you remembered. It had been good back in late high school and your early twenties, there was no doubt about it. Something about now was different though. Maybe it was because you were older, maybe it was because it had been so long, or maybe it was because you felt healed. Whatever it was, kissing Tyler now blew every kiss you’d had before out of the water. 

It was a short kiss, chaste, just to reassure him that you did want him, but when you pulled away the two of you were still breathless. “Am I crazy or was that incredible?” You asked, your hands sliding down his face to his chest. 

Tyler laughed, but nodded, his own hands dragging down your thighs and resting on your knees. “It was,” he replied, but then a smirk fell on his lips, “but we can do better.” 

Not one minute later, you were trying to open the door to your room, Tyler’s large hand low on your stomach as his lips left soft kisses on your neck from behind. You could barely concentrate as heat pooled where his hand rested, and you could not get the key in the door as he kissed a certain spot on your neck. “Ty,” you said through an exasperated laugh. “If you keep doing that I’ll never get us in this room.”

He took the key from your hand, but didn’t stop kissing your neck. You closed your eyes in pleasure as he did, letting him take over the door situation, and in a frustratingly short amount of time, you heard the door knob turn. Your eyes snapped open, turning in Tyler’s arms to find him smirking at you again. 

“How the hell did you do that so easily?” You asked, weaving your arms around his neck as he carefully backed you into the room. 

He shrugged, shutting the door behind him. “Guess you were just too distracted to focus.” 

You playfully glared at him, “I was not-” but you let out a gasp as he suddenly spun you around, pinning you to the door with his body. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just smiling at you as his hands rested on your hips, his thumbs brushing under your shirt to touch heated skin. “You were, but it’s okay. I liked it.” 

Well he had certainly become more confident in the years apart. Not that he ever wasn’t, but you could definitely tell a difference. However, you had gained a little bit of confidence too, and you smirked at him. “Oh, I can tell.” You replied, pushing your hips forward to press against the hardness you felt. 

Tyler bit his lip at your movements, his hands gripping your hips harder. “We don’t have to do anything. I want you to know that.” 

It drove you crazy, how he could go from being sexy and confident to sweet and respectful within a minute. You slid your arms up his chest and around his neck, tugging his head down to yours. “I want to.” You told him. “Do you?”

He let out a breathless chuckle, “You have no idea how badly I want to.” Tyler said, “I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you at that gas station.” He told you, his nose brushing against yours. 

Tyler had been wanting to get together with you for that long? Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest, and you let out a sigh as his warm hand slipped up the back of your shirt pressing you against him. “You know, I don’t look the same as I did ten years ago.” You admitted, a little bit of insecurity leaking out as you thought about the last time the two of you were together. 

He shook his head, and his hands left a trail of heat as they slid down your back to grip your thighs. “You look better.” 

Your hands slipped into his soft hair. “Now, I know that’s not true.” 

You let out a nose of surprise as Tyler used his grip on your thighs to lift you into the air with his body, smirking up at you. “I think you’re forgetting . . .” His lips found a spot on your neck that he had always kissed, a spot that made chills explode over your body and made a soft moan leave your lips. “I know this body better than anyone.” He whispered in your ear. 

Tyler was right. He had been with you more than anyone else, seen every part of you bare. So what if you didn’t look the same as you did in high school. You were sure he didn’t either. Based on what you felt against your body though, you didn’t think that was a bad thing. You let your hands trail from his hair down his neck and to his chest, noting how his body flexed under your touch. “I think I might need a refresher on yours.” You teased, biting your lip as you played with the buttons on his shirt. 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips. “Oh, is that what you need?” 

With fingers that were much steadier than what you felt, you unbuttoned a couple of the top buttons from his shirt. It wasn’t much, but enough to slip your hands into and touch his heated skin. It was the first time you had touched him, really touched him, in so long, and it made you ache for so much more. You pressed your forehead against his, “Right now I need everything you’re willing to give me.” You admitted honestly. 

“Well then,” Tyler’s hands slid down to your ass, holding you close as he started carrying you to the bed. “It’s a good thing I’m willing to give you everything.” He said as he placed you gently on the bed. 

His words made your heart stop for a second and a huge swell of affection for him filled your heart. You wanted to tell him that you still loved him then. That you wanted to give him everything too. The words wouldn’t come though. Not yet anyway. 

So instead, you tried to say them with a kiss. You sat up, grabbing his face in your hands, and tugged him down to meet your lips. The first time you had surprised him, and it took him a moment to respond. That was not the case this time. He kissed you back at once, moving your lips in a dance the two of you knew well. While the first kiss had been sweet, this one was full of passion and tenderness. You let out a little sigh when his lips parted and attempted to pull him closer. It had been so long since you had gotten to really touch him, and you didn’t want to waste another second not doing it. 

He complied, climbing into the bed on top of you, settling between your thighs and letting out a strangled groan as you pushed your hips up into him. He pressed his own against yours and you let out your own moan at the delicious friction. 

The sound made him pull away however, and you frowned, since that was the opposite of what you wanted right now. You watched him as he sat up, his gaze traveling over your body with such intensity you could feel your face heating up. Tyler’s hands rested on your stomach finally, tugging up your tank top so slowly it made you want to just yank it off yourself so his hands could be all over you. Waiting turned out to be worth it though, because as soon as your shirt was off, he started kissing down your neck. Your eyes closed as his lips went lower, and you arched your chest against his mouth as he got closer to one of the spots you wanted his mouth the most. 

“Have you been with other guys?” 

That made your eyes snap open. Those were not the words you expected to come out of his mouth when he was about two seconds away from putting his mouth around you. “W-What?” You said breathlessly. 

But he didn’t seem upset or anything, just genuinely curious. In fact he was grinning at you, his hands resting on your bare hips. “It’s been ten years. You have, right?” 

“Is now really the time for the, ‘how many people have you slept with since me?’ conversation?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Tyler leaned down, pressing his lower body against yours again as his lips hovered over yours. “I don’t care about the number.” He said, shaking his head. “I just want you to know I’m about to kiss the memory of anyone else from your body.” 

His words took your breath from your lungs, but you tried not to let him see how much they affected you. Your arms slipped around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. “You’re talking a lot of game for someone who hasn’t initiated a single kiss.” You teased. 

He chuckled,close enough that his lips brushed yours for the briefest moment. “Isn’t it better if you have to wait for it?” 

A soft smile fell on your face then as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Ty, you haven’t kissed me in ten years. Haven’t we waited long enough?” 

He leaned back so he could look at your face, smiling at the look you were giving him. “Yeah. I think we have.” 

Finally, he leaned forward and kissed you, setting your whole body on fire with the intensity of it. Your lips parted almost immediately, and his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring you thoroughly. His hands did the same, heat trailing after them everywhere he touched. 

You knew then, as the two of you kissed and your body, and heart, felt close to combustion, that this was it for you. You had been with other men in your time apart, and none of them had ever come close to making you feel like this. Back when you and Tyler had first started dating, you thought he might have been the one, but now you were sure. So no matter what happened tomorrow, or even after that, you knew that Tyler Owens was going to be it for you. 

To your shock and surprise, you didn’t find that scary at all. 

A breathless sigh left your lips as he slowly pulled away, and he smiled down at you, brushing some hair out of your face. “God you’re beautiful.” 

You had always remembered what he was like in bed, how sweet he could be, but hearing it again was a different story. He had always made you feel so comfortable and sexy, you were so glad to know that none of that had changed. “I missed you.” You blurted out, heat rushing to your face at the confession. 

But his smile just widened, leaning down to press a kiss against your jaw. “You’ve got no idea . . .” He started kissing down your neck again. “How much I’ve missed you,” he said, and you couldn’t help but squirm a little as he kissed down your stomach, your breath coming a little faster as his kisses got lower and lower. Your hands tangled into his hair, biting your bottom lip and arching up into his hand as he started unbuttoning your jeans. 

You lifted your hips as he slid your jeans and underwear down the rest of your body, casting them aside somewhere in the room. You didn’t really care where. Tyler kissed back up your body, pausing for a moment on your bra, the last article of clothing you were wearing. After giving him an encouraging nod, he unclasped it, tossing it somewhere too, leaving you completely naked. 

He stared at you, and you felt heat following everywhere his gaze went. His gaze didn’t make you uncomfortable though, it made you feel . . . Desirable. While his eyes looked you over, your eyes watched his face, biting your lip as your hands slid up and down his arms. “You know you’re wearing too many clothes.” 

Tyler grinned down at you. “You wanna help with that?” 

You sat up then, returning his smile. “I would love to.” You took your time, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and taking in every bit of skin that was revealed. Tyler had been fit when the two of you were dating, but now? He looked like he’d come straight out of a magazine. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, you let your hands trail down his chest as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his neck. You felt his whole body relax as your hands slid back up his hard muscles to push his shirt off him, and you trailed your lips across his shoulder and down his arm. 

As soon as his shirt was off him, you made your way back up his arm, pressing gentle kisses every few inches until you reached his face again. He was smiling at you, and you couldn’t help but press a peck against his lips, then another until he had his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you against his warm chest. Letting out a sigh, you kept your forehead against his for a second, soaking the moment in. 

“I never thought we’d be here again.” Tyler said, shaking his head as his hand dragged up and down your bare back. 

“Me either.” You admitted, letting one of your hands comb through his soft blonde hair, “but I’m glad we are.” 

Tyler didn’t say anything, but leaned forward to meet you in a kiss that said everything he needed to. It told you how much he missed you, the familiarity of his lips moving in rhythm with yours. It told you how badly he wanted you when his tongue slipped into your mouth to caress your own. Then his lips weren’t the only thing showing how much he cared as he gently laid you down on the bed, never letting your lips disconnect. 

It was illogical, but you hoped his lips never left you again. You were drowning, no, floating in him, submerged but safe in the warmth of him as his body laid on top of yours. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, and a moan left your lips as the two of you came into contact. 

Tyler pulled away then, but he didn’t go far, leaving kisses down your chin and neck. “You keep making noises like that, and this is not going to last as long as I want it to.” 

You let out a breathless laugh, tugging at his hair. “The noises are your fault, Owens. You’re the one with no-” you let out a gasp as his lips found your breast, pleasure burning straight to your core. “-Self control.” You panted. 

He gave your nipple a gentle bite, causing you to whimper, before he pulled away to look up at you. “Sorry, what was that about self control?” Tyler asked with a smirk playing on his lips. 

“That you have none.” You said, arching your hips up to rub against him for a moment, making him groan against your skin. “But I don’t think I have any either when it comes to you.” 

His smirk turned into a smile, and his lips found your breast again, immediately shooting even more pleasure through your body. 

Nobody really talks about what it’s like to have sex with someone you used to date years ago. Tyler knew your body so well, he knew exactly how you liked to be touched, and what spots would drive you crazy. It was so easy to fall back into it. On top of that though, the two of you had been with other people in the last few years, and you had more experience and confidence than the kids you used to be.

There was no hesitation in Tyler’s hands as they explored your body, and none in yours as one dragged down his back and the other tangled in his hair, holding him against you. You let out another moan as his hand moved from your inner thigh and a finger slid inside of you. 

He let out another groan as he discovered how wet you were, and leaned up to press his forehead against yours as he added a second finger in. “Are you already ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, bumping your nose against his. “Do you have a condom? I wasn’t anticipating-”

“Having sex with your ex-boyfriend in a motel room?” Tyler grinned as he reached into the back pocket of the jeans you forget he was still wearing and pulled out his wallet, reaching in to take out a condom. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m always prepared.” He said with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but secretly you’d never been more thankful. If the two of you had to stop now to run out and buy condoms, you might’ve lost your mind. You slid your hands down his well defined chest, biting your lip at the muscles you felt there before stopping to rest on the belt of his jeans. “You’re still wearing too many clothes though.” You reminded him. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping me with that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you started undoing his belt. “It’s not my fault you distracted me with how hot you are.” 

He laughed, moving your hands out of the way to get his jeans off faster. “Why do you think I got your clothes off so fast? Can’t get distracted if they’re already off.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to remember that for next time.” You teased, sliding your hands back up his chest to rest on his shoulders. It was only when his body froze that you realized what you said. The two of you stared at each other, and you had no clue what to say about your implication of a next time. You didn’t even know if he’d want a next time . . . 

Tyler didn’t let the moment linger though. He shoved the rest of his clothes off and leaned down to kiss you, hard, and all consuming in a way that erased every thought from your head except how much you needed him. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you let out a gasp as your hips came into contact. 

You had forgotten how big he was. 

Almost as if sensing your thoughts, he pulled away slowly from your lips, barely leaving a centimeter between them as his finger trailed up and down your slit for a moment. “You can take it. You’ve done it before.” He whispered, and then slipped three fingers inside of you. The sudden intrusion sent your nails digging into his shoulders and heat exploding across your body. “If you can take that, you can take me.” He assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

He was going to ruin you. Part of you thought he already had, since every other time you’d had sex, he was always on your mind, but now you were sure of it. Nobody was ever going to get you more turned on than Tyler Owens. You nodded, because it seemed like he was waiting for an acknowledgment, and attempted to pull him closer with your legs when his fingers slid out of you. “It’s just - it’s been a while.” You admitted.

Tyler gave you a gentle smile. “For me too.” 

His words shocked you for a second, but then you realized they shouldn’t have. Tyler had never been a one night stand kinda guy. As confident as he was, even before the two of you had started dating, he’d only ever dated girls he felt a genuine connection with. The fact that he still felt that with you enough to want to do this had emotions clogging up your throat. You let your hands trail down his body again, taking the condom from his hand and slipping it on him, your gaze never leaving his face as you enjoyed the sight of his reaction to you touching him. “Then let’s not wait anymore.” You said, guiding him towards you. 

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He pressed forward, and you let out a sigh as he slipped inside of you, your head falling back against the pillow. It was a tight fit, there was no doubt, but he moved slowly, showing, once again, how well he knew your body. Any time you tensed up, he paused, though you could feel by how tense his muscles were how much he was holding back. “That’s right,” he would tell you when your breath started to come faster. “Remember how well you take me?” 

Oh God you did. He fit inside of you like no one else. Even years later he filled you up just enough to not be painful, but more than enough to be satisfying. Another gasp of air left your lips as he pushed more inside of you, and you could tell he was almost completely in. 

“You’re doing such a good job.” Tyler said, leaving another kiss against your skin. “Made just for me.” And while his voice was soft, it was also strained from effort. 

You opened your eyes as you felt him push forward again, and dug your nails into where they had rested on his shoulders once more as he pushed completely inside of you, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he did. 

There was nothing like this. Absolutely nothing. You moved your eyes from the ceiling to find him looking at you like you’d just hung each star in the sky for him alone. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He said breathlessly. 

Did he really expect you to be able to think right now? You couldn’t think enough to have a filter if you opened your mouth, and you knew that was partially what he wanted. So you let the words slip from your lips. “I’m thinking about how no ones ever felt as good as you do.” He rewarded your words with a little thrust of his hips that had you gasping. “I’m thinking about how you’ve ruined me for anyone else.” Another thrust, this one harder, and you tightened your legs around him. “And I’m thinking about how much I missed you, Ty.” You said softly, letting out a whimper as his hand slid up to your breast, cupping it and letting his thumb caress your nipple. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just watching as your hips jerked against his, desperate for the pleasure only he could provide, his eyes locked on your face as if he was committing it to memory. “Would you believe me if I told you I was thinking about all those things too?” 

You didn’t have to think about it. You nodded, moving your hands from his shoulders to tangle in his hair. “I know.” 

Tyler leaned down to meet your lips in a bruising kiss as he thrust inside of you, starting a slow and steady pace that continued to pick up speed with every passing minute until you couldn’t keep up the kiss any longer. Your head fell back against the pillows, and your eyes closed in pleasure as his warm, calloused hand traveled down your body to where the two of you met. “Eyes on me sweetheart.” He said, and pressed his thumb against your clit. 

“Fuck, Ty!” Your eyes snapped open and your chest arched into his, tugging on his hair at the overstimulating sensation. His hips stuttered for a moment as you felt yourself clench around him, but he kept up the movement of his thumb, tracing circles around it. The pleasure was almost too much. You could feel it building inside of you, desperate for release, and you clung tightly to him. “I can’t- I’m-” You couldn’t even get the words out, too overwhelmed with feelings. 

“It’s okay, you can let go.” He said, “I’ve got you.” He assured you, never ceasing his pace or his finger. 

His words triggered your release, almost as if you’d been waiting for permission and you moaned out his name as it washed over you. You clung to him like he was a liferaft, holding you in above water as you clenched around him. You heard him groan your name, saying how good you were, and within seconds you felt his body tense, falling over the edge with you. 

As the pleasure faded from your body to satisfaction, you didn’t want to let him go and groaned in discontent when he pulled back and out of you. He chuckled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” 

You sighed, opening your eyes as you watched him head into the bathroom, unable to believe that you had just had sex with such an attractive man, even if he was your ex. He was more than an attractive man though, or just your ex. He was Tyler. The boy you gave your heart to ten years ago who never gave it back. A tender smile was on your lips as he came back to you with a damp washcloth and started gently cleaning you up. 

“You okay?” He asked, the hand that wasn’t cleaning you up resting on your thigh and rubbing the skin there. 

“I will be once you get back in bed.” You replied, and your smile widened at the pleased expression on his face. You let out a laugh as he tossed the washcloth aside and hurriedly climbed into bed, spooning you against his back. 

He nuzzled into your neck, leaving kisses against your skin as he made himself comfortable against you, and shivers exploded across your body as his hand rested on your stomach. “Comfortable?” Tyler asked, pressing another kiss to your cheek. 

Being in his arms again? Comfortable didn’t even begin to describe it. As cliche and embarrassing as it sounded, for the first time since you’d come to your hometown, you actually felt like you were home. “Perfect,” you replied, scooting back even more into him. 

And you meant it. 

————————

You woke up cold, but oh so satisfied. Part of you wondered if last night had been a dream, but you knew that your body couldn’t lie like that. You definitely had the post sex ache. You stretched your limbs out and rolled over, wanting to curl back into Tyler and maybe sleep for a few more hours, but you were met with nothing but sheets. 

Frowning, you opened your eyes, letting your fingers drag across the fabric. It was cool, so he’d been gone for a while. It was only when your eyes drifted up to the pillow did you notice the scrap of paper. 

Stay. 

It was written quickly, almost as if an afterthought, and you frowned at it. Did he really think that he had to ask? You got out of bed, and found a tshirt in the floor. Slipping on your underwear and the tshirt, you sat down at the small table and grabbed your laptop. You’d been writing like crazy lately on a new book, and you’d definitely woken up feeling inspired this morning. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there typing. It was a great distraction from your thoughts, and when you got into the zone, it could be hours before you realized you hadn’t stood up from your chair. You weren’t so in the zone though that you didn’t hear the doorknob start to turn. 

Tyler entered, once again looking entirely too good in his dark brown button down, jeans and cowboy hat. He carried a familiar brown bag and cup of iced coffee in his hand and held a cautious smile as he looked at you. “Brought you some breakfast.” 

You held out your hands to take it from him, eagerly sipping at the iced coffee as he sat down at the seat across from you. “Thank you, I needed this.” You said, leaning back against your chair. He was watching you, that cautious look still on his face making you nervous. Was he regretting last night? Was he trying to figure out the polite way to tell you it had all been a mistake? 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, and the sudden question threw you off, you didn’t even have the chance to think about throwing up a filter. 

“I’m thinking that I hope you’re not regretting last night. I’m also thinking that you’re too far away.” You admitted, frowning at the distance between the two of you. 

His whole body seemed to relax at your words and the smile that you knew and loved fell back onto his face. He held out his hand to you, and without hesitation you took it, returning his smile as he tugged you out of your chair to sit sideways across his lap. You buried your face in his neck, letting out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you, and held you close. “Better?” Tyler asked, one of his hands tracing up and down your outer thigh. 

You nodded, tightening your arms around him. “Much better.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. You knew the conversation that needed to be had, but you had no clue how to even begin to start it. Should you blurt out how you feel? Should you ask him how he was feeling? Tyler beat you to the punch though with a statement that stopped your mind in its tracks. 

“I read your book.” 

Your body froze as your brain took a moment to process his words. Once they did, heat rushed to your face, and you pulled away to look at him. “How did you even-”

“Boone. He gave me a copy pretty much right after you showed up.” He said, and his hand gave your thigh a squeeze. “I noticed some . . . Similarities.” 

You bet he did. More than enough to be embarrassing. You bit your lip, knowing the question that he wanted to ask, and decided to go ahead and give him the option to ask it anyway. “What do you want to know?” You finally said. 

For a moment it wasn’t the new Tyler that you’d been getting to know over the past couple of weeks that was looking at you. The confident, caring, intelligent tornado wrangler. It was young Tyler, the bull rider who wanted nothing more than to ride his fears and bring you along for it. “I guess I’m just wondering why they got their happy ending, and we didn’t.” 

Just because you anticipated it, doesn’t mean it hurt any less. “Ty . . .” You placed your hand on top of his, gripping it in yours. “I wrote that book two years after our breakup. I wasn’t ready to be her then. There were . . .” You took a deep breath. “A lot of things I was still holding onto.” 

“But if I had quit when you asked me to-”

You were shaking your head before he could even finish his sentence. “I never should have asked you to do that.” You let go of his hand to take his face in your hands to encourage him to keep his eyes on you. “Tyler, our breakup had absolutely everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you.” This confession had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for years now, and you finally had the courage to say it. “I looked at you, riding those bulls, and all I could see was my dad. It scared me.” You admitted, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Drunk, constantly concussed, and soon to be dead either from one or the other. I know that’s not you now, and I should’ve known it back then, but I was too damaged.” 

Tyler looked sad, his hand still caressing your skin. “I would have fought for you.” 

“I know.” You said, and you did. You knew that Tyler would have fought to stay by your side until the end if you hadn’t pushed him away. 

“You were everything to me back then.”

God it hurt. Remembering the look on his face when you had walked out that door. You still had nightmares about it, but like you had struggled to learn, there was nothing you could do about it now. The two of you sat there for a moment before you finally got the courage to ask the question you’d been wanting to. “What about now?” You asked. “Think we can make it?”

A small, disbelieving smile formed on his face. “Is that an option?” 

You nodded. “At least I hope it is. That ball’s in your court Tyler Owens. I’m the one that broke your heart.” You said, sliding a hand down to rest over his heart. “So . . . is that an option?” You asked, biting your lip as your heart started thumping heavily against your chest. God what if you’d just said all that and spent the best night of your life with him for Tyler to say it wasn’t worth the risk? That’d you’d done damage beyond repair? 

Tyler didn’t give you time for your thoughts to get any more out of control. “Oh, it’s definitely an option.” He said, and his bright smile had your heart fluttering. “In fact, I’d say it’s my preferred option.” 

You could barely believe it, even after last night. “You really want to give me a second chance?” You asked in disbelief. 

His smile turned soft, and his hand covered your own on his chest. “Sweetheart, I’d give you all the chances in the world.” 

And then, because you didn’t know what else to say, you leaned forward and kissed him. 

Once again, everything was the same, but somehow different. A better different.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: ceo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: Wanda brings you home and fucks you, claiming you as only hers over and over again. After tonight, everyone will know who you truly belong to.

content warnings: smut again, possessiveness, grinding, pillow humping, spanking, strap on, nipple clamps, choking, edging, overstimulation, mommy kink.

word count: 6.3k+

masterlist

Part 1: Fingers Are My Weakness

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The Ultimate Weakness

The soft leather seat beneath you squeezed slightly as you settled in, Wanda closing the door for you as she made her way around the car. She had an unreadable look on her face, her back straight as you heard her heels click on the concrete floor of her parking garage. 

Opening her door, Wanda slid into the driver's seat and started the car as the scent of her familiar vanilla perfume washed over you. You glanced over at her, taking in her red hair as it lay perfectly over her shoulder. Her jaw was sharp, eyes focused on her phone as she answered one last email for the night. 

Green eyes met yours, and you startled as you realized that you’d been staring for quite some time. The ghost of a smirk formed on her lips, her lipstick still holding up even long after the workday had ended. Backing out of her parking spot, with a sign labeled Wanda Maximoff, she rested her hand gently on your thigh. 

You relaxed, happy that she was continuing her habit even though she hadn’t had the best day. You remembered her telling you that she wouldn’t treat you any differently just because she wasn’t in a good mood, and something settled inside you as she continued to uphold her promise. 

Her fingers squeezed, and you tore your gaze away from the road in front of you, choosing to admire her form in the dim lighting instead. Even to this day, after a couple years of loving her, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you laid eyes on her. Her eyes reflected the warm lighting of the street lamps as she sped out of the parking garage, one hand gripping the steering wheel in a relaxed manner as the other gently traced circles on your thigh. 

Your peace was broken at the first red stoplight. As the car came to a stop, Wanda glanced over at you, her eyes dark as they roamed your face. Her hand moved dangerously high, almost touching your still sensitive core as you raised your eyebrows at her. 

“Let’s play a game.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but rather, a command. You straightened up in your seat, anticipation filling you as Wanda explained the rules of the game. You were to put your hands beneath your thighs. She would continue stroking your thighs, and for every red light she stopped at, she would cup your pussy over your pants. You had the duration of that red light to grind against her hand as much as you wanted. As soon as the light turned green, she would move her hand back to your thighs. 

“If you cum before we get home,” Wanda’s eyes glinted at you, the light turning green. The car accelerated. “I won’t punish you.”

It was an impossible feat, and she knew that. You couldn’t cum without her help, and you’d tried before. You didn’t know how she’d trained your body to only cum for her, but you weren’t complaining. Besides, your fingers never felt like enough after the first time she’d fucked you. 

Still, you nodded obediently, thighs tensing in anticipation as you saw the next stoplight. The city was full of them, and you thanked your lucky stars that Wanda had purchased a home twenty minutes away in the suburbs. 

“Red light, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured, the car coming to a stop. As promised, she moved her hand to cup your overheated pussy, pressure firm as she glanced between the light and your face. 

You held back a whimper, slowly moving your hips. You were still sensitive from your orgasms back in the office, and slightly embarrassed at the amount of arousal leaking through your pants. You were sure that the fabric was damp, you could smell your arousal as it mixed with Wanda’s vanilla perfume. 

Wanda, however, looked immensely pleased by this. The red glow on her face cast a sharp shadow, her lips upturned as her eyes watched you intently. You were glad the light was red, as it helped conceal your flush at her attention. 

Green light washed over you, and you breathed deeply when Wanda removed her hand. Your clit throbbed uselessly, begging for more pressure. You manually slowed your heart rate, breathing in slowly and holding it for a few seconds before releasing it. You could tell that Wanda was pleased by your reaction, her fingers digging into your thigh slightly as she focused on the road. 

Reaching over, you turned on the radio, needing some sort of distraction from the unbearable ache rising within you. Wanda glanced over, her face telling you that she knew what you were doing, but she didn’t stop you. 

Soft jazz filled the car, and you settled back into your seat as your arousal simmered. At least she wasn’t teasing you with pressure against the place you ended her most anymore. Her hand remained firmly on your thigh, not moving as-

Oh great, another red light. 

Her hand returned to the center of your thighs, your pussy convulsing uselessly as you desperately ground against her hand. You needed more, and Wanda knew that. She made no moves to help you, simply watching as you forced your hands to stay under your thighs while rutting against her palm. 

Green light. 

—

You resisted the urge to slam your head against the back of your seat. Of course, the one light near your shared home was red. Wanda’s hand was once again cupping you, your juices having soaked the fabric of your pants a while ago. You hoped that you wouldn’t ruin the nice leather of your girlfriend’s car, but the thought soon fled from your mind as you lost yourself in the mindless pleasure you received from grinding fruitlessly against Wanda’s hand. 

“Almost home, darling,” Wanda said. You resisted the urge to curse at her. “You haven’t cum yet, how… disappointing.” 

A groan left you as the light turned green, your orgasm just barely within your grasp. That was your last chance to cum, and you gained control of your erratic heartbeat with a few more deep breaths. You were sure that you’d cut off circulation to your hands with how hard you’d pressed them beneath your thighs, but you really didn’t want to break one of Wanda’s rules. 

After all, she was already going to punish you for not coming, you might as well not add to the punishment. Besides, you could tell that her mood was changing the whole ride home. Whenever her eyes weren’t locked on you during a red light, they were distant and unfocused. 

You knew your girlfriend well enough to know that she was replaying Hailey’s advances on you over and over in her mind. She was probably overanalyzing the women’s body language from when she’d caught the two of you in Wanda’s office, her mind replaying the way Hailey’s eyes had roamed your body hungrily before widening in fear from the look her boss was directing at her. 

At first, you thought she was upset. But, Wanda was rarely upset with you, not unless you had done something to deliberately anger her, and you hadn’t done anything like that in a long time. So, you surmised that she must just be reverting to her possessive side, letting her thoughts take over until the only thing she wanted to do was claim you as hers. 

You weren’t averse to the idea, but the last time Wanda had gone on a possessive rampage of your body, she’d left bruises for weeks, and you hadn’t been able to walk properly for days. 

The car turned down a familiar road, and you prepared yourself for a long night ahead. 

“Are you hungry?” Wanda asked, and your brain halted. 

Why would she ask if you were hungry? You knew what she was going to do to you, was this some sort of trick? Another aspect of her game? 

Peering hesitantly over at her, you saw nothing but genuine care in her eyes, and you berated yourself for thinking the worst. Nodding, you watched her as she parked the car, gathering her bag before walking over to your door. 

It was quite cute, the way she refused to let you open your own door. Plus, you loved the casual dominance she exuded throughout your daily life, so there were no complaints from you. 

Walking into your shared home, as Wanda held the door open for you, you half expected her to slam you against the wall with fierce kisses and a steady thigh between your legs. However, she did nothing of the sort, seemingly forgetting her promise of punishment as she deposited her bag in her home office, kissed you softly, and began to prepare a small dinner for the two of you. 

You poured some wine, setting the table for two as you made sure the cutlery was straight and the napkins were on the center of each plate. Watching as Wanda brings over a bowl of chicken salad, you smile at her, a warm glow filling you as she smiles back. 

The two of you make small talk, and you’re careful not to mention anything about Hailey as you talk about your work day. Wanda’s eyes still darken slightly every time you mention being trained since she knows exactly who trained you, but she doesn’t comment. 

Eventually, your plates are cleared. Wanda nurses her wine, sipping slowly as you continue to ramble about your day. She watches you with a small smile, her eyes roaming your figure as your hands move excitedly while speaking. Nodding at the appropriate times and humming periodically, she doesn't let her inner thoughts show. 

Wanda can’t stop thinking about the way that fucking girl looked at you. Lust-filled eyes staring at your body even as you were perched on Wanda’s lap. Hands twitching when she saw the multitude of bruises littering your delicate neck, tempted to reach out and take you from Wanda. 

She couldn’t have that. 

You’ve finished speaking, your hands playing nervously with your fork as you watch Wanda’s eyes darken. She’s lost in thought, her green eyes staring into her glass as she slowly finishes the last bit of wine. Seemingly shaking herself out of her thoughts, her gaze slowly makes its way up your body until it reaches your face.

Jerking her head, Wanda wordlessly commands you to go to the bedroom. You immediately stand, stopping only to kiss her softly on the lips. Her hand twitches, fingers reaching towards you, but you’re already moving away. Knowing what’s expected of you, you leave your girlfriend to clear the table as you make your way up the stairs. 

You’re quick and efficient, discarding your clothes and folding them neatly before dropping them near the door. You take a few breaths, calming your racing heartbeat and smiling at the sticky juices you can feel already running down your inner thighs. Wanda was going to love that. 

Kneeling, you get in position near the foot of the bed just as you hear Wanda’s heels clicking up the stairs. Another wave of wetness leaks out, and you remind yourself to be patient. Knowing your girlfriend, you weren’t going to cum for a while tonight. 

The door opens, Wanda’s frame filling the doorway as she slowly steps inside. It's hard to read her expression in the dim lighting of your bedroom, but you watch her out of the corner of your eye as she makes her way towards the bed. 

“Come here.” Her voice is velvet, just barely loud enough for you to hear. Your ears strain slightly, but you hear her command. 

“Yes, mommy.” You’re obedient, your tone submissive as you turn towards her. Wanda hadn’t commanded you to stand, so you remain kneeling as you slowly shuffle towards her. She’s seated on the bed, her hands beckoning you closer and pulling up upwards as your body goes limp, pliant in her grasp as she maneuvers you over her lap. 

You barely register your position, euphoria taking over you as your bare skin comes in contact with Wanda’s body. You can feel the heat emanating from her thighs as you're bent over them, and you relish in it even as a small part of your mind dreads the punishment that is sure to come. 

Wanda doesn’t give you much warning, her hand kneading the supple flesh of your bottom before suddenly disappearing. It is only seconds later that you realize she’s started spanking you, her hand leaving a scorching heat on your ass. You realize that she’s elected to keep her rings on, the pain stinging sharper than usual as the metal hits your skin. 

“Why am I doing this, sweetheart?” The question pulls your mind out of the comfortable vanilla haze it was in, and you blink furiously as you attempt to form a response. Her hand comes down again and again, evidently dissatisfied with your lack of words. 

“Um,” You scramble, hands gripping the sheet in front of you as you try not to reach behind you to swat her hands away. That would only lead to restraints, and you’d rather keep Wanda’s hands on you, even if it brought pain. 

You practically shout for joy when your brain finally starts working, your answer coming out in between broken moans and gasps, Wanda’s hand unrelenting. “Because, fuck. I didn’t cum in the car and- Um… Hailey,” A particularly harsh slap is delivered, and you vow to never speak that name again. 

“She,” You correct yourself, “...made me miss your texts.”

You can tell that Wanda is unhappy with your answer, the blows raining down slightly harder than before. You’re quick to speak, not wanting to upset her further. 

“I’m sorry mommy, I shouldn’t have… shit. I ignored you, and that wasn’t fair to you. I’m so sorry, please. I…” Your voice catches, Wanda’s rings burning into your skin as she continues her assault on your bottom. You’re almost certain that you’ll be bruised for the next few weeks. 

“Hailey…”

“I never want to hear that name again.” Wanda’s voice is soft, her tone deadly and filled with venom as she briefly pauses. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, you squirm fruitlessly in her lap. You hear a humorless laugh above you and know that Wanda isn’t impressed by your efforts to escape. Her hand returns, somehow harsher than before. Every nerve in your body is on fire, pain and pleasure mixing together as she rains blow after blow onto your skin. 

A brief interlude. 

“I shouldn’t have chosen her over you.” You blurt out, desperate to stop the assault on your sensitive flesh. You also really want Wanda to understand just how sorry you are, and you nearly sob in relief when she pauses, her fingers stroking over your inflamed skin. 

“Explain.” 

You compose yourself, wanting to articulate your next words carefully. “I…” You wish you could see Wanda’s face, but settle for reading body language instead. “I made you wait, because I presumed that my training was more important than you. I know better, you come first, before anything. I forgot myself, and in doing so, chose that girl over you.”

The only sound in the room is your deep breaths as you grit your teeth against the red-hot pain emanating from your ass, Wanda’s fingernails scraping against your over-sensitive skin as she thinks. She knows it’s not your fault, she can’t be upset at you for doing your job. 

But the thought of losing you, it's almost too much to bear. 

Waves of jealousy overcome her, visions of a different woman touching you, fucking you, loving you threatening to drown her. Wanda barely registers your whimpers, her fingers squeezing your flesh, your nerves frayed badly as you attempt to get her attention.

“Wanda, I need you to calm down, love.” The words wrap around Wanda’s ears, a soothing melody amid her mental war. 

Green eyes refocus, darting down to your trembling form. You haven’t moved, submission evident as you force your body to remain still. Your face is turned, eyes peeking up at her and filled with concern and so much devotion that Wanda feels slightly off balance. 

“Undress me, darling” Her words are barely a whisper, an unspoken plea interwoven with the command. You understand, you always do. 

Wanda needs to know that you’re still hers, and you’re more than happy to provide that reassurance. You remove yourself from her lap, standing before her and steadfastly ignoring the ache beneath your flesh. Cupping her face, your touch is reverent as you tilt her head up towards you. 

Your eyes meet hers, and you shiver at the spark that travels down your spine. Slowly, your hands move down her neck, fingers running along the steady pulse you find. You move further, hands caressing her collarbones before moving to undo the top button of her dress shirt. 

The urge to kiss her is strong, but you hold eye contact, knowing exactly what Wanda needs at this moment. Refusing to break eye contact, you remain steadfast in your efforts to undress her, fingers flying as you undo the last button of her shirt. Slipping the expensive material off her shoulders, you throw it somewhere behind you. 

Goosebumps erupt as you trail your fingers over her skin, fingers tenderly sliding alongside her bra. Your touch is reinvigorating and frustrating all in one, and Wanda pushes down the impatience that rises quickly within her. She focuses instead on you, feeling the gentle strokes of your hands as you unclip her bra, gently removing the garment before setting it aside. 

Your face is full of wonder, as if you’re seeing her body for the first time all over again. You look like that every time, Wanda realizes, and she feels her jealousy fade as the evidence of your love overtakes her thoughts. 

“Beautiful.” You mutter, breathless as you trace a heated path over her skin with only your eyes. You glance up, noting Wanda’s blown pupils as she watches you. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my love.”

Wanda’s breath hitches, and you smile gently at her. Fingers move slightly faster now, unbuttoning her slacks and pulling her pants down her legs while she lifts her hips to assist you. 

It’s as though you’re unwrapping a present, fingers excited and careful at the same time. You kneel, nose scraping along her inner thigh as you slowly peel her underwear away from her soaked pussy. Wanda can’t find an ounce of shame within her, not when you’re looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

You remain keeling, your hands tracing nonsensical paths along her skin as Wanda regains control over her mind. She just about loses her composure when she meets your eyes again, the amount of love shining through them overwhelming. 

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asks, and you duck your head, cheeks flaming. Finally, the upper hand she’d been waiting for. 

Nodding sheepishly, you become aware again of your aching desperation as you shift slightly. Your thighs rub together, and suddenly the only thing you can think of is how badly you want Wanda to fuck you. 

“Please.” You rasp, biting your lip at the hungry look that appears in Wanda’s eyes. 

“Prove it.” Is all Wanda says, her hand grasping a pillow before shoving it towards you. You take it, confusion welling up as you watch her move. She rests herself against the headboard, green eyes never leaving you as she beckons you closer. 

Standing, you move towards the bed, spurred on by Wanda’s encouraging head nods. She holds out her hand, curling her fingers towards her as she ushers you closer. You hold the pillow in front of you, a small inkling of realization making its way into your vanilla haze-filled brain as your eyes widen. 

“You want me to…” Trailing off, you position the pillow beneath you, thighs spread on either side of it. Wanda nods, her hands falling back onto her thighs as her eyes watch your swollen pussy come in contact with the soft fabric. 

“Yes, sweetheart,” She murmurs, eyes lighting up when you begin rocking your hips into the pillow. “Prove to mommy how badly you want to cum.”

A moan erupts from you, your throat vibrating as it escapes. You move faster, hips rutting furiously against the pillow, knowing that you won’t be able to cum from the action. Unfortunately, Wanda had trained your body to only cum at her command, and with her touch. Normally you didn’t care, seeing as she took good care of you. But now? You were more than frustrated by your lack of ability to cum by yourself. 

“Please,” You gasp, pleasure rolling through you as pain ricochets alongside it. The pillow brushes against the inflamed flesh of your ass, sending jolts of arousal straight to your clit as it pulses widely. 

Breathing heavily, you stare at Wanda with wide eyes. Her gaze is unflinching, locked on you as she watches you move desperately against the pillow. Your actions are futile, the ability to cum is beyond your capabilities at this moment, and Wanda delights in that knowledge. 

Moans reverberate in your chest, the sound bouncing around the room as Wanda shifts slightly, her thighs dampening from arousal. The sight of you rutting against a pillow at her command sends her spiraling headfirst into a state of desperation and possessiveness. She attempts to keep a level head, fingers twitching against her thighs as she watches. 

Then, you start begging. 

“Mommy,” It’s pitiful, and so fucking arousing. “Pl.. please mommy, I wanna cum so bad for you. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I swear I didn’t do anything wrong, I just wanna be a good girl for you. Please let me cum, I’ll do anything.”

Your eyes unglaze slightly, focusing on her. Wanda feels pride slink into her chest at your next words. “I promise, I’ll do anything.”

Raising a single eyebrow, reaches over to the dresser and pulls open a single drawer. You try not to salivate, knowing that the contents of that drawer are meant to bring either immense pleasure or unbearable pain. 

Wanda’s fingers wrap around a thick strapon, the scarlet color teasing you as your mouth falls open. You’ve only played with that toy once before, and Wanda hadn’t held back, the size nearly splitting you in half as the toy reached places in your pussy you didn’t know existed. 

“Mommy…” Your voice is hesitant, but Wanda just smirks at you as she fastens the strap around her waist. 

“Anything, remember?” Her voice is teasing, but there’s a slight edge to it warning you to behave. “You promised, darling.”

You take in a shaky breath, nodding slowly as you continue to grind against the pillow. Wanda’s fingers are quick, expertly tightening the strap of her harness as you watch with an equal amount of growing anticipation and fear. 

“I want you to ride me.” Wanda’s expectant, her hands already reaching towards you. The pillow is ripped out from under you, a groan leaving your lips as the pleasure fades. Before you can complain, Wanda is grabbing your hips and pulling you onto her lap, rubbing the tip of her strap against your leaking pussy. 

You know what she wants, and can’t find it in yourself to deny her, so you open your mouth and start begging. “Please let me ride your cock, mommy. I’ve been really good so far, and I just want you to make me feel good. Please? I… I promised you.”

Your hands make their way towards her face, but Wanda simply raises an eyebrow at you. Sheepishly, you move your hands behind your back, linking your fingers together. Wanda makes a pleased humming sound, a small smirk appearing on those beautiful lips before her hands are rough around your hips and slamming you down onto her strap. 

It’s not that you weren’t expecting it, or that you weren’t wet enough to take it. It’s the fact that Wanda is so fucking rough as she urges your hips to move faster while rutting her hips upwards. It only makes you want her more.

The sound of Wanda’s strap fucking you fills the room, your juices sliding down the toy and soaking her thighs. The moans that fall from your lips sound like strangled whines, with broken pleas and gasps mixed in. It’s the prettiest thing Wanda’s ever heard. 

“You’re mine.” Wanda’s voice is low, her eyes watching your face intently as it contorts in pleasure. Her fingers dig into your waist, her nails leaving small crescent-shaped indents when she finally moves them upwards. You continue to fuck yourself on her strap, the burning pleasure rolling through you as her fingers begin to pinch and twist your nipples. 

“Yes, mommy…” The words slip out of you, your head feeling vaguely heavy as you move to rest your forehead against Wanda’s shoulder. You feel her lips attach themselves to your neck, sharp bolts of electricity traveling from your sensitive nipples down to your throbbing clit with every clever twist of her fingers. 

You barely even realize the absence of her fingers as you moan freely into her collarbone. The sensation of her thick strap sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace is nearly sending you over the edge, one of her hands threading through your hair while the other rummages around in the drawer. 

Metal clinks, and you jolt, recognizing the sound. Wanda’s laugh is humorless and dry, sounding harshly in your ear as she yanks your head away from her shoulder. “Remember these?”

The nipple clamps swing innocently from her fist, the delicate metal chains glinting at you as you shakily nod your head. 

“Color, sweetheart.”

Your eyes jerk back towards Wanda, mind raging as you continue to mindlessly impale yourself on her strap. Your fingers clench together, unwilling to disobey your girlfriend by moving. 

“Green.” You answer, and Wanda smirks. 

Moving quickly, deft fingers attach the nipple clamps to your hardened buds. You barely even register the pain, your focus centered around the strap disappearing between your thighs. A firm hand presses against your sternum, pushing your upper half backward. 

You move your hands, your fingers releasing their tight grip in favor of gripping onto Wanda’s strong thighs. The approving look in your girlfriend's eyes tells you that no rules were broken, and a high-pitched whimper escapes you at the new angle as your body weight shifts. 

Wanda’s strap is somehow thrusting impossibly deeper into you, pressing against your g-spot and sending tremors throughout your body. Your nipples are on fire, the metal clamps attached feeling like a live wire as Wanda tugs intermittently on them. Her mouth has returned to your sweat-soaked skin, teeth sharp as she litters your breasts with dark bruises. 

“I, please. You… It's too much. Mommy, I can’t…” Your words only seem to spur Wanda on, one hand returning to your hip and forcing the strap deeper into the wet heat of your pussy. The way she tugs on the nipple clamps is almost aggressive, stretching your poor skin as far as it will allow and biting into the sensitive flesh of your breasts. 

Wanda straightens, a sadistic gleam in her eye as she pushes you further back. Your arms shake with the effort it takes to support yourself on her thighs, but you don’t let it deter you, your hips moving faster than before. 

“Can I cum, mommy?” You ask, holding your breath as you watch Wanda contemplate her answer. 

“Fine,” She starts, and you feel your orgasm creep up on you as you force your hips further down her strap. There’s a raspiness in her voice as she finishes, “But I’m not stopping.”

You don’t understand at first. You can tell that Wanda is pleased and slightly amused by the confused expression plastered on your face, her hips still rapidly slamming her strap up into you as she twists the delicate chain of the nipple clamps between her fingers. 

She pulls quickly, her hips snapping roughly against you as the strap hits your g-spot perfectly, sending you over the edge. The nipple clamps tug against your nipples, Wanda pulling them completely off in one smooth movement. 

The pain doesn’t register for a moment, your orgasm washing over you in powerful waves as you convulse on top of Wanda's thighs, your hips stilling as your pussy clenches around her strap. Then, the liquid fire from your sensitive, raw nipples shoots through you.

It's like ice-cold water was dumped on you, your body going rigid as you grip Wanda’s solid thighs tightly. Your nipples are aching, mind-numbingly hard as pleasure mixed with pain courses through you. Your clit pulsates fiercely, wanting stimulation as Wanda fucks you through your orgasm. 

A few curse words escape you, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind as she tosses the nipple clamps somewhere onto the floor, the metal hitting the carpet with a soft thunk. Her arms wrap solidly around your waist, her body weight shifting as she twists the two of you until you’re beneath her. 

The strap disappears, and you try not to whine as Wanda manhandles your body into position. You’re flipped over onto your stomach, your head pressed into a soft pillow as your arms are moved above your head. Wanda’s hands press your wrists into the pillow, reminding you silently to keep still as she nudges your thighs apart with her knees. 

Strong hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up as you feel the wet silicone of Wanda’s strap nudge your pussy. Your walls flutter, and you barely have any time to process the new position before Wanda’s hips thrust her strap into you in one solid stroke. 

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Wanda gasps, one hand gripping your hip as the other tangles with your hair and presses your further into the pillow. You turn your face, sucking in deep breaths as Wanda fucks you through your first orgasm. 

A second, more powerful orgasm rises, and you squirm violently beneath Wanda. You’ve already cum too many times today, your clit sore and throbbing even as your pussy walls clench down greedily on Wanda’s strap. 

“I’m- fuck. Gonna cum… again. Mommy, please?” You barely hear yourself, the roar in your ears too loud as you feel yourself tip over that proverbial ledge once again. 

Wanda says something, but you can’t make out what she says. You’re aware of her hands on your wrists, pulling them down from the pillow and trapping them against the arch of your back. From this position, Wanda has more leverage. 

The strap continues to fuck roughly into you, milking your pleasure until it turns slightly painful. Any protests die on the tip of your tongue as your face is pressed further into the soft pillow. A third orgasm emerges, pulled from your g-spot as the tip of Wanda’s strap caresses it over and over again. 

“I’m so proud of you, honey. You’re doing so good for mommy, can you cum for me again? It would make me really happy.” Wanda’s panting, her words flowing smoothly as she lets out a few grunts of pleasure. 

The base of her strap is hitting her clit perfectly, and that in addition to watching you fall apart has her on the edge of her own orgasm. You moan loudly in response, your body tensing as your legs shake, your hips rutting against the mattress when your third orgasm hits you. 

Muffled moans sound out, and Wanda lets her orgasm wash over her, hips stuttering against the backs of your thighs. She feels a gush of wetness coat her and glances down to see your cum leaking out around her strap.  

It’s too much, arousal flaring in Wanda’s gut as she fucks you through your orgasm even as her own clit pulsates wildly against the soft leather of her harness. As nice as her own orgasm feels, nothing ever compares to the rush she gets from watching you fall apart beneath her. 

“One more for me, darling,” Wanda says, flipping you over again, her hands rough around your waist as she quickly re-inserts her strap into your dripping pussy. 

You stare up at her, eyes wide and unfocused, and Wanda feels another orgasm creep up on her. She fucks you harder, and you moan lowly as her strap reaches new parts inside you that send pleasure coursing through your veins. 

Another orgasm. You barely even react, your nerves frayed at this point. You hope that she’ll stop soon, but knowing Wanda, she won’t stop until she’s satisfied. 

“You’re doing so good for me, love. I’m so proud.” She says, pressing a vibrator against your clit. You don't know when she pulled that toy out, time blending in a vanilla haze as you pant and moan uselessly beneath her, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. 

Another orgasm, your hips jerking under her ministrations. The vibrator is only at a medium speed but sends bolts of pain through you as a deep ache settles in your body. You need to cum again, and dread the moment you fall over the edge once more.

You cum, pain overtaking the heat of pleasure as your nerves set on fire. Your muscles tremble, breaths shallow as you utter a simple ‘yellow.’

Wanda slows the vibrator down, eyes searching yours as her hips come to a halt. Her next words are clear, reverberating around your brain as you process, “One more time for me, darling. Can you do that?”

Nodding, you breathe deeply. Your head feels light, your body weightless as Wanda increases the speed of her thrusts again. It’s not as intense as before, but just enough to coax a final orgasm out of you.

Strong fingers wrap around your throat, applying pressure against your neck as you go slightly lightheaded. It only feeds into the fuzzy feeling you’ve been in, your eyes rolling back as you cum violently.

The strap disappears, your pussy walls fluttering fruitlessly as you whine pathetically. Wanda’s fingers discard the vibrator, shutting it off before moving to caress your tear-stained cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. 

The overwhelming orgasm fades, and you shudder beneath Wadna’s comforting weight as she gently removes the strap from around her hips. Soft kisses are pressed into your damp skin, strong hands kneading your sore muscles as you tremble. 

A strong vanilla scent invades your senses, and you feel yourself become more alert as Wanda begins gently lathering some lotion onto your raw nipples. She’s speaking, her voice low, and you strain your ear to hear her. 

“I’m so proud of you, darling. I’m not upset with you, I know you didn't do anything wrong.” She pauses, her hands gentle as she finishes spreading the lotion over your nipples.  “I just get possessive over you, I can’t imagine losing you. Even the thought is enough to send me spiraling.”

You wish you had the capability to respond, but Wanda glances at you, her eyes softening when she sees the understanding on your face. A small smile spreads on those lips, the ones you desperately wish you could taste, and a bottle of aloe vera appears in your peripheral vision. 

Hoisting yourself up, you turn over onto your stomach. Presenting your red, raw backside to Wanda, you sigh as she gently applies a generous amount of the soothing gel onto your overheated skin. You know that you’ll be sore for days to come, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. 

After all, if Wanda didn't get jealous sometimes, you’d be worried that she didn’t want you. 

Soft lips press against yours, and you sigh into Wanda’s mouth as your hands come up to play with her hair. A gentle tongue swipes your bottom lip, almost apologetic, and you practically melt against her. 

“I have a gift for you,” Wanda says, pulling away even as her lips chase after yours. She seems almost nervous, and you nod excitedly at her even as a yawn hits you. 

“It’ll be quick, I promise.” Her eyes are crinkled at the edges, and you’re glad that she finds humor in the situation. You’re too fucked out and exhausted to think too much, and Wanda quickly reaches into the bottom drawer of your dresser. 

When she straightens up, an item lays innocently in her hands. Your heart rate picks back up at the sight, eyes eagerly taking in the collar dangling from her fingertips. 

“I…” Your voice cracks, and you feel a blush spread across your face as Wanda smiles at you. “I love it, thank you.”

Tenderly, you reach out and take the collar. Your touch is reverent, turning the soft leather over in your palms as you inspect it. It's beautiful, a deep red, with a simple gold tag attached to the loop in the front. 

Written in a delicate font, the words Wanda’s Good Girl are engraved on the heart-shaped tag. You smile, one hand grasping onto Wanda’s shoulder as you pull her in for a hug, tucking your chin into the crook of her neck. 

You truly couldn’t be happier. You’d been waiting for this moment, and had many conversations with Wanda about the idea of a collar. This was true ownership, but if you were honest with yourself, Wanda had owned your heart from the moment you met her. 

“Also,” Wanda begins, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m promoting you to my personal assistant.”

You smile, allowing yourself to be pulled under the sheets as Wanda pulls you flush against her body. It’s her favorite way to cuddle, and you simply wrap your arms firmly around her as sleep threatens to overtake you. You mutter against her skin, not entirely sure that she can hear you, but Wanda understands perfectly. 

“That sounds perfect, my love.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff

[teaxeee]

I don't belong here | Shen Ricky & Park Gunwook

Summary: Even though you weren't the type to go to parties, there had to be an exception made for your friend. Little did you know that you'd reunite with a certain individual along with meeting a new one.

Pairing: Female reader x Shen Ricky x Park Gunwook

Genre: Smut (as usual, Minors DNI), one night stand

Word count: 3491 (wow almost 3.5K very surprising)

Warnings: SoftDom!Ricky, slightly MeanDom!Gunwook, fingering, clit slapping, finger sucking, nipple play, lots of praising, slight degradation, pet names (princess, slut, pretty girl, bunny), bulge kink, kind of? MonsterCock!Gunwook, cum eating mentioned at the end

Notes: As soon as I saw the pic I knew I had to drop something, they looked TEW GOOD for me not to write anything about it. Anyways, enjoy pookies!

Song recommendation: I Don't Belong In This Club - Why Don't We

How did you end up in bed with two hot boys? It all started out with going to a friend’s birthday party and as much as you hated going out and being in crowded places you had no choice but to attend. You were wearing a baby pink off shoulder mini dress, the fabric perfectly hugging your curves, showing them off just right. Your makeup looked perfect, it wasn't too strong but it was enough to have people turning their heads. Your hair was also perfect, the soft curls complimenting the dress and the makeup well.

By the time you arrived at the party the place was full of people that were familiar but also that weren't. ‘Why the fuck are so many people here?’ You muttered under your breath as you got out of your car and closed the door. It was a miracle you somehow managed to find a space to park the car. 

You sighed, holding your purse and the bag containing the gift in one hand, locking the car with the other as you made sure every door was properly locked, you could never go wrong with checking every door, the last thing you wanted on your mind was someone to try and steal your car or anything that's inside it.

After confirming that the car was indeed locked you put your purse over your shoulder, while you held the bag and started walking towards the house. Your heels clacked against the concrete, the sound being noticeable in the empty streets. You kept your posture straight, your hips swaying slightly as you walked confidently. 

The house wasn't far thankfully, the walk being short just by 5 minutes from where you parked your car. Music could be heard as you stepped at the entrance of the front yard, taking slow steps as if not to damage your heels. You kept walking and stopped near the door shortly after, quickly checking if you had everything in your purse and making sure the gift wasn't broken in the bag.

You took a deep breath and walked inside, already met by the smell of cigarettes mixed with the strong alcohol, the loud music already starting to ring through your ears. There were a few people in the middle of the room dancing, at least there was an attempt with the drunk ones, and it was painfully obvious by how their bodies swayed. 

Meanwhile, there were a few couples, some of them being in the corners and eating each other's faces off. ‘No wonder love feels so disgusting.’ You thought and shook your head, your main focus being greeting your friend, give the gift to her, wish her a happy birthday and flee away from the party when given the chance. 

“Y/N! You're here! I almost thought you wouldn't show up.” You heard your friend, Celine exclaim excitedly as you approached her. “That was the plan at first, but it would've been a shame if I missed my best friend's birthday.” You said, seeming almost nonchalant compared to her, being overly excited. 

She mumbled a small ‘thank you’ and you both hugged, her happiness boosting as soon as you both broke the hug. “Happy birthday! I hope you keep being smart.” You say sarcastically as you give her the bag and she happily takes it. “Thank you, I hope you find a boyfriend soon.” She talked back sarcastically and you rolled your eyes, causing you both to laugh.

“I heard that Ricky is here.” She added in, already catching your attention with those words. “Ricky? As in the Shen Ricky?” You questioned, watching as she set the bag on a table full with other gifts from the other guests. “Yeah! I saw him with a friend of his, but he did have a huge glow up.” She proclaimed, and you already knew her words were 100% true with how confident she sounded. 

“It's no surprise with the way he ditched classes but still managed to get good grades that he'd also get a glow up too.” You muttered under your breath, not seeming surprised at all that you'd somehow reunite with him one way or another.

“You should talk to him. Bet he missed talking to you.” She suggested. “There's no way I'm talking to him.” You said, already turning to leave, but she quickly grabbed your wrist, restricting you from moving away further than initially planned. “Come on, it won't be so bad. Please?” She begged and you knew she was up to no good whenever she didn't let you leave. 

“If you're concerned if you're going to get along with him or not then I'm sure you'll have a conversation flowing. Just go and talk to him!” She urged, already pulling you along with her as you both walked over to find Ricky and his friend and you surprisingly found them both quickly.

“Well look who it is!” Ricky said, sounding smug as you both approached him and his friend. “Haven't seen you in a while, sweetheart.” He added, clearly unphased by the way you were trying to keep calm in front of him, a smirk forming on his face as he looked at you up and down, shamelessly checking you out. “It's nice to see you again, Shen.” You mumbled, the shyness already starting to show. 

“It's nice to see you too, Y/N.” He replied, a small smile forming on his lips as you both started catching up, having small talk from after finishing high school to your plans for the future, that's until you both stumbled on the topic about your love lifes. The whole time you kept talking with Ricky, his friend would observe you both, quietly downing the liquid remaining in the cup as he heard you and Ricky converse with ease.

“Oh, I almost forgot to introduce you both.” Ricky interrupted the conversation you were both so immersed in, turning to the boy who was too busy eyeing the liquid in the cup. “This is Gunwook, he's not as mean as he looks.” Ricky added as he patted Gunwook on the back, causing the younger to look up, already seeming lost due to his small distraction. “It's nice to meet you, I'm Y/N.” You introduce yourself, seeing how the younger’s cheeks become a bit flushed from embarrassment.

“I-it’s nice to meet you too, I'm Gunwook but you already know my name thanks to Ricky.” Gunwook stuttered slightly, his speech becoming a bit slurred due to how embarrassed he seemed. It didn't surprise you at all to see your friend being gone yet again to greet more guests, leaving you with the two boys standing in front of you.

The three of you continued talking, trying to keep the conversation going by discussing random topics, some which made sense and some that didn't make sense at all. Every time you and Ricky would exchange eye contact he’d get more touchy, his free hand lingering onto your skin, fingers gently caressing your arm to his hand moving lower to your waist. It made your heart flutter with the way his fingers pressed against the fabric of your dress, his touch felt nice but yet addicting. 

It had you secretly pressing your thighs together, trying to hide how embarrassingly wet you got just by listening to Ricky talking and Gunwook witnessed it all, watching you both but already devouring you by keeping his eyes on you. 

He watched the way your body tensed up as Ricky moved his hand underneath your dress, groping your ass as his nails digged into the soft flesh, leaning in and whispering the filthiest things unimaginable, your legs completely turning into jelly as he managed to convince you to ‘have a bit of fun’ with the both of them.

You were almost certain that you'd get caught due to how loud your moans were getting. Your dress was long discarded onto the floor, only leaving Gunwook and Ricky fully dressed. The both of them already had two fingers inside of you, thrusting them in and out as your thighs tensed and your toes curled due to the double penetration. 

“You look so pretty like this, princess…look at how you're taking our fingers so well.” Ricky praised as he pressed his lips against your neck, starting to leave gentle kisses along your skin, causing goosebumps to form all over your body. 

Your hands desperately gripped at the bed sheets as Gunwook sped up his movements, his fingers sliding in and out of you faster as you tried not to squirm. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, their fingers not slowing down as they sank deeper inside with how perfectly you were spread out for them, your chest heaving as your pussy desperately clenched around the digits, coating them with your wetness.

“Shit, look at her. Look how tight she is.” Gunwook groaned as he pulled out his fingers and slapped your clit a few times, causing you to cry out from the slight pain as he pushed his fingers in and started to thrust them in and out of you again. “Such a fucking slut, can't keep her legs closed even if she wanted to.” Gunwook said, his fingers speeding up as Ricky shifted his attention from you to Gunwook, watching how the younger moved his fingers. You were becoming a mess, the pleasure too much for you to handle, causing you to cum. 

Their fingers got coated with your juices and you watched how Ricky pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, a small hum leaving past his lips as he savored the taste. Gunwook pulled his fingers out and stared at how your juices were sticking against his skin. 

As much as he wanted to suck them clean, he didn’t do that. Instead he leaned above you and brought them closer to your face, watching how you eagerly parted your lips just to get a taste. He chuckled and pushed them in your mouth, and you eagerly sucked and licked them clean as the older watched you both.

“You’re that desperate to taste yourself?” Gunwook questioned and you nodded, too occupied to give him a proper answer as your tongue swirled around his digits, he wasn’t surprised how needy you were with the way you looked at him while still having his fingers in your mouth. 

He let you suck on them for a few more seconds then pulled them out of your mouth, causing you to whine in frustration but got quickly cut off when his lips pressed against yours, while gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head up, deepening the kiss.

Gunwook’s lips collided perfectly with yours, the way he kissed was both gentle and rough at the same time, his lips were so soft it made you feel addicted to them. You were too immersed into the kiss to notice when Ricky undressed, already rubbing the tip of his cock against your hole and making you more wet. He slowly pushed inside, the way your walls sucked him in made him groan while you moaned against Gunwook’s lips.

“So good for us, princess…you’re taking me so well.” Ricky praised as soon as he bottomed out, trying to keep his hips still as he let you adjust to his length. Gunwook pulled away from your lips, allowing you to take a breath as he leaned down and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, starting to leave kisses along your skin.

Ricky started moving his hips, his thrusts slow as he watched how your face contorted from the pleasure. He put his hands on your hips and squeezed them gently, then moved them all over your body, his touch being gentle as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he was scared he’ll break you with just one touch.

You were slowly starting to feel lost from the way the two boys were treating you, the way they were touching you all over, it was like heaven for you. “You're so fucking pretty…so pretty for us…” Ricky said as he kept thrusting, his grip on you got slightly tighter as he pushed his cock deep inside you, causing you to feel full from it.

“Our pretty girl, yeah?” Ricky asked as he sped up the pace, watching as you struggled to speak. You were already becoming a moaning mess, struggling to keep the noises from slipping past your lips as Gunwook moved his lips lower, closer to your breasts. His kisses weren't aggressive, he was being careful and gentle when kissing your skin.

“So perfect…” Gunwook mumbled as his lips latched onto one of your nipples, starting to suck slowly as he flicked his tongue gently against the hardened bud, causing you to clench around Ricky's cock. You felt like you were on cloud 9, the way Ricky was fucking you while Gunwook was too busy having his lips attached onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around it as he sucked it in more, causing you to moan.

Ricky kept thrusting at a fast pace, the tip of his cock perfectly hitting against your g-spot, noises of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your moans and the occasional grunts he let out every now and then. He could tell how close you were by the way you clenched around him and the way your moans were getting more high pitched.

It made him feel so lightheaded, his whole body becoming sweaty and heated up as he neared the edge. His pace became sloppy, as he thrusted a few more times before he came inside, painting your walls white. That was enough to push you over the edge as well, cumming and clenching around his cock, milking every single drop out of him as you both started panting. 

He slowly pulled out after a few minutes, causing you to whimper from the loss of being full. Ricky watched as his cum started oozing out of you, the thick liquid slowly dripping down onto the bed sheets. He was fascinated by it, almost as if he was hypnotized by it. That was until he noticed Gunwook finally moving his lips away from your now swollen nipple, spit and bite marks on one breast, the other one untouched. 

Ricky moved to your side and cupped your cheek with one hand, as he leaned in and kissed you, finally getting a chance to devour you as soon as you kissed him back. He was much more gentle compared to Gunwook, taking his time with you as the kiss became more passionate and gentle, full of love even. 

Gunwook slowly undressed, watching how Ricky devoured your lips as if you'd disappear the moment he stopped kissing you. As soon as he was done undressing he slotted himself between your legs and watched as you and Ricky kept kissing.

It was hot to watch you and Ricky kiss as if you were both in heat, but Gunwook didn't mind how desperate you were for the both of them at all. After a few minutes Ricky broke the kiss and quickly nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, his lips latching onto your skin as he started sucking, causing you to moan.

Gunwook grabbed one of your legs and lifted it over his shoulder, then spread your other leg with one hand, giving himself full access to your stuffed pussy. He wrapped his free hand around the base of his cock and stroked it a few times, then positioned the tip at your entrance, your eyes now fixed onto his cock.

‘How the fuck will it fit?’ You thought as you watched how he dragged his tip up and down your puffy folds, purposely teasing and prolonging the pleasure you desperately needed. It was no surprise about his size: he was huge. His cock looked thick enough to split you in half by the way he was holding it, and the few veins along his length made it look prettier.

Gunwook kept teasing you for a few minutes, watching how annoyed you became the more he dragged his tip along your folds, occasionally tapping your clit with it as you whined from the painful teasing. It didn't take long for him to reposition the tip of his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing inside as he groaned from how tight you were, while you moaned from the size.

He kept pushing in despite you clenching around his length, trying your best to make him fit fully inside you. After a bit he finally managed to fit inside, his hips pressed against yours as he moved his hand away from his cock, placing it right at your belly, feeling the imprint of his cock pressing against your skin.

“Fuck…you're so tight, bunny. Barely fitting me in…” Gunwook said as he started thrusting slowly, his cock slipping in and out of your puffy folds. His fingers pressed against your thigh, gripping the soft flesh as he kept thrusting, being careful not to get you overstimulated.

Meanwhile Ricky kept sucking on your neck, moving his lips from one spot to another, your skin getting covered with hickeys that seem impossible to cover up, one hand moving to your breasts as he started playing with them, giving equal attention to both while he moved his other hand to your hair, running his fingers through it as he tugged at your nipples, weak whimpers slipping past your lips as your hands gripped the bed sheets.

Gunwook sped up the pace, his hips slapping against yours a bit harder as he kept his hand on your belly, feeling how your walls gripped his cock tightly, making you feel more fuller than Ricky did. His thrusts were fast, his cock stretching your already used pussy beyond its limits as he pushed in deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.

His eyes were fixed onto your face, watching how your eyes rolled back, your lips parted as you let out the prettiest moans, your hands bunching up the thin bed sheets as your tits bounced every time he thrusted roughly inside, it was the most perfect sight for him, he could watch it for hours and never get bored.

Ricky finally moved his lips away from your neck, admiring the hickeys he left while Gunwook kept thrusting, his pace not faltering as he kept moving his hips, the sounds of skin slapping against skin getting louder with each thrust. He kept hitting your g-spot and you kept clenching around him, your thighs tensing up and toes curling from how good and full you felt from his cock.

Gunwook noticed how close you were with the way you kept clenching around him, moans slipping past your lips as you looked so blissed out. He kept the same pace, as he moved his hand away from your belly and moved it lower, letting his fingers hover above your pussy. He watched your face for a few seconds, seeing the way you were far gone to even try and form a coherent sentence.

He let his fingers brush against your clit, letting out a small hiss from the way your pussy squeezed his cock tightly, desperate to milk him. He placed his fingers against your clit and started rubbing it gently, a high pitched moan escaping from your lips as you clenched around him one more time, your orgasm hitting you harder than anticipated as you soaked his length with your juices.

“Shit…just like that, bunny.” Gunwook praised as he came inside, letting out a groan as he emptied his load, his cum mixing with Ricky’s as he kept thrusting and rubbing your clit. You felt tired and weak, but also satisfied from the way you were filled with both their cum. His pace slowed down, his thrusts becoming deeper as he pushed in and out of you.

The both of them watched as their cum oozed out of you with every thrust, Ricky couldn’t look away as his eyes were glued on your body, seeing the way your chest heaved as you started panting, your face flushed and your whole body glistening with sweat, it made you look breathtaking. 

Gunwook thrusted a few more times and pulled out, then pushed your leg away from his shoulder, letting it fall against the soft mattress. He quickly laid down on his stomach and spread your legs, watching as more cum gushed out of your used hole. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, his hands gripping the soft flesh as he pulled you closer, burying his face between your legs as his lips latched onto your clit, starting to clean you up while you moaned once again from the added pleasure.

That’s how you knew that you were in for a long night with the two boys…

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Three

Lines are beginning to blur between you and Anakin.

◂ chapter two ▸ chapter four

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.2k | read on ao3

warnings: alcohol, age-gaps, body image insecurities (anakin), sexual fantasies/content, swearing, a little bit of mean anakin

“Tell me everything! Is he everything you thought he’d be? Totally dreamy? All stoic and boss-like? Oh, what does he smell like? Expensive?” 

Your best friend has barely taken off her shoes before bombarding you with questions about your first day working for Anakin Skywalker. You give her a welcoming hug before taking her hand and leading her into the living room. “Come on, I’ve already opened a bottle of wine.” 

Two empty glasses stand next to a middle-shelf Pinot Gris on your coffee table. Sabine takes it upon herself to pour the wine and pulls the granny square blanket from the back of your couch over her lap. She looks like she’s settling in for a bedtime story. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Lay it on me.” 

You situate yourself on the opposite end of the couch and slip your legs under the blanket. You take a small sip of wine before attempting to answer any of Sabine’s questions. Your first day at Skywalker Enterprises went by in a blur. Meeting your boss was not at all how you imagined it would go. It was all so clumsy. Anakin seemed more like an embarrassed school boy than the confident CEO you were expecting. He looked like he saw a ghost when he saw you sitting behind your desk. And then, in the car on the way to his house, he addressed your butt. 

“Let me know if your butt gets too toasty,” he said. It was so incredibly adorable because you could tell he let a little bit of his guard down when he said it. Obviously, he didn’t mean to. Because no sensible boss should talk about his assistant’s butt. Especially not when you’ve only just met each other. You found it endearing. 

But then, after the initial awkwardness faded and you continued talking to each other throughout the day, there was a sense of familiarity about him. The structure of his sentences when he spoke reminded you of someone. You’re just not sure who. 

“He’s not really what I thought he’d be like.”

“How so?” Sabine asks. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, unable to explain the stirring of feelings and emotions in your chest. “He’s… he was sort of awkward when we first met. Like, stuttering and fumbling over his words. Almost as if I made him nervous.” 

Sabine nods slowly with her eyes narrowed. “Go on…” 

“Well, that’s crazy, right? The fact that I could’ve made him nervous?” 

“Not necessarily. Look at you. You didn’t have a successful OnlyFans page for nothing.” 

“Yeah, but he’s in his forties,” you emphasize. You remind yourself of his age nearly every minute to remember how inappropriate it is to be attracted to your boss. Applying for the job was such a bad idea. What made you think you wouldn’t be attracted to him when you saw him in person? Your cheeks get hot as you think about him rounding the car to open your door once you got back to the office after dropping off his son’s pants at school. It was just a common courtesy, not a sign of interest. But damn, was it nice to be on the reciprocating end of something gentlemanly.

“And he’s a dad! I shouldn’t be making dads nervous,” you add. “I mean, I saw a picture of his wife at his house. She was stunning. Stunning, Sabine. High cheekbones, a nice straight nose, a gorgeous smile…” 

“Wait, he’s married?!” Sabine sets down her glass. 

“Widowed.” 

“Oh,” Sabine says sadly. Then her eyebrows perk up. “Oh.” 

“Don’t,” you hold up your finger. “Don’t give me that look. He’s my boss.” 

“But you like him,” Sabine sings. “And from what it sounds like, he likes you too.” 

You cannot let Sabine put the idea of Anakin Skywalker, engineering millionaire, having a measly little crush on you. Because it’s absolutely absurd. He’s him and you’re… you’re just a girl who was uploading videos of herself masturbating for money just last week. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work. It’s empowered you in so many ways, but it was time to find something a bit more steady and reliable. And less physically taxing, to be perfectly honest. 

“Sabine, be serious. I-” your phone pings with a distinct tone that makes you pause. 

New Message from Skyguy81 

“Oh, my God,” you say. 

“What?” Sabine asks. 

“It’s Sky,” you answer her while opening the message.

Sabine eagerly crawls on top of you to peer at your screen. “Sky as in Rich Guy Sky? Did you upload a new video or something? What did he say?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I haven’t uploaded anything since last Thursday. Get off of me so I can read his message.” 

Sabine retreats to her side of the couch as you begin reading to her. 

“I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.” Your tongue feels like sandpaper and your heart is in the bottom of your throat. 

“Oh, shit!” Sabine exclaims. “You’ve got this boy whipped! Honestly, you should just keep making videos for him. He was your best tipper, anyway.” 

“He’s never… he’s never messaged me out of the blue before.” You chug down the last of your wine, thinking you may need some liquid courage for whatever conversation is about to unfold between you and Sky. 

“He wants you,” Sabine says simply. “Make it happen.” 

“I can’t just meet up with someone from OnlyFans. It’s an episode of Dateline waiting to happen.” 

Sabine rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so cynical.” 

“I’m not being cynical, I’m being logical,” you counter. You’d be foolish to risk your life by meeting up with Skyguy81. No matter how nice and genuine he seems over private messages. No matter how much money he has tipped you. There is no guarantee he’s not absolutely creepy and going to kidnap you.

Okay, so maybe you watch too much true crime. That’s why you have to balance it out with The Great British Bake Off. 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying,” Sabine finishes her wine, “you never know. He could be the love of your life.” 

You’re quiet as you contemplate the love of your life. Sabine is the romantic. You’re the realist. You have a hard time believing there’s one person in the world who you’re destined to be with. How do you explain Anakin losing his wife? Was she the love of his life? Is he not supposed to move on and potentially find happiness with someone else? None of it makes sense to you and it’s quite possibly because you’ve never been in love. 

And the image of the person who you might like the opportunity to love is entirely unavailable. 

.

.

.

It’s times like tonight when Anakin wishes he didn’t raise such inquisitive, curious children. Leia is simply chock-full of questions about her dad’s new assistant. When do they get to meet her? Soon. Is she old like Auntie Dorothy? No. Does she like vintage Disney movies? (Anything before 2010 is “vintage” to Leia). I don’t know. 

Luke, on the other hand, was very disappointed to learn that you were in the car while his dad dropped off a new pair of pants. “You made her wait in the car like a dog?” 

Anakin snorts. “I wouldn’t quite say like a dog, Luke. I was gone for less than five minutes.” 

“Did you at least roll down the window? So she could have fresh air?” Leia joins in on the comical idea of their dad leaving his assistant in his car like a pet. 

“That’s enough out of you two,” Anakin says through a grin. These 9 year olds, man. What is he going to do with them? 

Luke and Leia nod, going back to stabbing their dumplings with their chopsticks. 

“I have one last question.” Leia watches her dumpling precariously dangle on the edge of her chopstick. 

“What is that, princess?” Anakin asks.   

“Is she pretty?” 

Anakin’s pulse is going to burst. It’s a simple question- one that always seems to be on the tip of Leia’s tongue. She wants a woman figure in her life. Soon, she’ll be at the age that is easier to navigate with a maternal presence. Anakin is really not equipped to talk her through menstrual cycles. 

But it’s the nature of who his new assistant is that makes him feel so exposed. He can’t very well tell his children you’re the most beautiful woman he’s seen since his wife. And he definitely can’t tell them that you’ve been in his life not since this morning, but since three years ago when he downloaded OnlyFans. 

Anakin cleans the corners of his mouth with his napkin while he formulates an appropriate response. He’s kept his answers short and simple because if he thinks about you for too long, your figure seeps into his vision, your voice burns in his ears, and he’s unable to focus. 

He feels like such a sleaze for getting hard just by thinking about you. You are so much more than a sexual object. And trust him, he can’t wait to learn about all that makes you you. But morals be damned. He wants you desperately. 

“Yes, Leia. She’s quite pretty,” Anakin finally answers. 

Leia can’t help but dance excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 

“I could’ve met her today,” Luke mumbles. “If Dad hadn’t locked her up in the car.” 

Anakin is laughing now. “I have a feeling you are going to be bringing this up for a while.” 

After dinner, the kids clear the dishes and load what they can into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Anakin does something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. 

.

.

.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.

Now being 10 pm, it’s been 3 hours since Anakin— or rather, Skyguy81— sent you that message. 

And you still haven’t replied. But you read it. 

And the fact that you’ve read the message but decided not to reply makes Anakin feel so incredibly foolish. What was he thinking? What was he expecting from you? More meaningless flirting? 

Except now it’s not meaningless for him. He’s not sure if it was ever meaningless. But now that he knows who the woman behind HoneySuckle is, it’s completely different. You have a name— which he had to look up in employment records because he’s convinced he actually blacked out when you introduced yourself. You have passions and interests, favorite snacks, and a go-to karaoke song. He wants to know it all. 

And even though he’s going to see you tomorrow, he couldn’t resist the urge to message you on OnlyFans. But since you’ve opted not to reply to him, he’s now wallowing like a teenage boy. 

Ridiculous. He’s better than this, goddamnit! 

Finally deciding to stop staring at his phone, Anakin strips down to take a shower. It’s hard for him not to feel disappointed when he looks at himself in the mirror. Arguably, he’s still in great shape. He lifts weights at the gym at least twice a week, sometimes three if he has the time. He doesn’t have a beer belly, which he considers an accomplishment at his age. But he does have some extra fat around his love handles. He has sun spots on his shoulders from the countless pool days when the twins were younger. And then there are the undeniable lines around his eyes, which are incredibly prominent when he smiles. 

Anakin has never felt particularly insecure about his image before. He’s accepted that his body is not the same 20 year old body it once was. But there’s a new nagging insecurity in the back of his mind.

Is it good enough for you? 

Anakin turns on the water in the shower, needing to wash away all delusions of you and him ever getting together. As soon as he steps one foot on the tile, his phone buzzes. He grabs his phone off of the counter and his heart rate immediately ticks up. 

Hi Sky, I’m sorry for the delay. I had a friend over. Here’s a special little something for you ;) 

Attached is a picture of you on your bed, sitting on your heels with the thin straps of your panties pulled over your hips. You’re lifting an oversized t-shirt above your breasts, which also expertly hides your face. Right. Because you don’t know that he knows who you are. 

Still, the picture was worth the wait. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cock is already standing upright, the tip pressing against his lower abdomen. He focuses on your hard nipples, picturing himself enclosing his mouth around one of your mounds. He’s rolling his tongue over your bud while massaging your other breast. Your hands are in his hair and you’re anything but silent. You’re moaning his name, begging for more, whining for him to put his cock inside of you. 

Anakin is too preoccupied to even reply to you. He gets himself under the steady stream of hot water and grabs the base of his length. Now he’s picturing you on top of him, tits bouncing in his face while you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Mmm, yes! Anakin, please. Feels so good.” 

Your hands are pressed against his strong chest for support. He loves you like this— in control but still pathetically needy for his dick. “How much do you love it?” he asks. “Tell me how much you love this cock inside of you.” 

You throw your head back when he slaps both of your ass cheeks. He grabs onto your flesh firmly and your cunt clamps around him while you proclaim it to be the best feeling in the world. “I love it so much, Ani. Nobody's cock feels as good as yours.” 

“Damn right,” Anakin grits. He holds your chin with a strong hand, forcing you to look at him. “This pussy is mine. You understand that?” 

“Yes, sir,” you moan as Anakin bucks his hips up, hitting deep inside of you. “Only yours.” 

“Yes, sir,” huh? That’s a new kink unlocked. Anakin presses a palm on the shower wall to steady himself as he cums. It’s anything from pretty. It happens suddenly and quickly, thanks to the vivid images he was creating in his mind. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning too loudly. But your name is rolling off of his tongue effortlessly. As if it’s always been in the recesses of his mind, just waiting to be said intimately and passionately. 

He tries to list off the hundreds of reasons why he should never utter your name in a less than professional manner while shampooing his hair. 

You’re his assistant.

You’re significantly younger than him. 

The power imbalance (see 1 and 2). 

That’s all he can come up with for now and it’s enough. Nothing good will come out of pining for you and fantasizing about you. It still doesn’t stop him from messaging you back after he gets out of the shower and settles in bed. 

Now I feel guilty for not responding sooner. Thank you for the spectacular photo. It is unfortunate that I had to take matters into my own, ahem, hands. I would have much preferred to have your help. 

You flatter me, Sky. Do I really get you that worked up? 

Impossibly so. 

When you said you thought about me at work… What exactly did you mean? 

To be perfectly blunt, you were bent over a desk with your skirt pushed over your ass. I was fucking you well and hard, with my name being the only thing falling from your pretty lips. 

Anakin lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Why does he keep putting himself in situations that result in an erection? He just needs to have a good fuck. Get it out of his system. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. But under no circumstances will it be with you. 

I think I’d like that very much. 

Goddamnit. Anakin needs to stop while he’s ahead. While he’s not succumbing to jerking off for a second time tonight. This was a disastrous idea. Because now when he sees you at work tomorrow, he’s going to think about how you would like for him to fuck you over your desk. Except you don’t actually know that it’s him who wants to fuck you over your desk. 

Maybe in another life. 

Anakin leaves it at that. He puts his phone on do not disturb and attempts to get some reading in before going to sleep. He also prays for G-rated dreams. 

.

.

.

The morning fog of late November in Northern California is still hanging in the air when you get to work at 8 am. Anakin won’t be in until he drops off Luke and Leia which means he should arrive around the same time he did yesterday. It gives you an hour to go through voicemails, reply to emails, and brew a pot of coffee in the breakroom. 

Ben Kenobi arrives shortly after you, sharply dressed in dark blue slacks, caramel leather Oxfords, and a white collared shirt with small polka dots that match the color of his pants. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kenobi,” you greet.  

“Please, call me Ben. No need for formalities around here,” Ben replies. “You’ll soon see we operate very much like a family. There will be shouting and likely some name calling, but it’s all in the name of love for engineering and innovation.” 

“Got it,” you nod. “It’s just that Dorothy always called Mr. Skywalker by, well, Mr. Skywalker. And yesterday he didn’t tell me to call him otherwise.” 

Ben strokes his nicely groomed beard. “Interesting. Well, I suppose you can continue to address him as such until he tells you to call him Anakin. Which I’m sure he’ll do this morning when he gets in. Have you brewed the coffee yet?” 

“Not yet.” you stand. “I wanted to check messages first, but coffee is next on the list.” 

“Excellent.” Ben follows you into the breakroom. “How are you enjoying your time here?” 

“Well, it’s only been a day,” you remind him with a light lilt to your voice. “But it’s been good! Everyone I’ve met is super friendly.” 

Ben leans back against the counter, crossing his ankles and arms over his chest. “And you and Anakin? You two getting along? He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” 

You nearly spill the coffee grounds as you bring the spoon up from the container to the machine. “No!” you say a little too loudly. “I mean, no. He’s been very nice. Quiet, but nice.” 

“Anakin? Quiet?” Ben almost laughs. “I’ve never heard that word used to describe Anakin before.” 

“Oh.” you continue scooping grounds into the machine. How many spoonfuls are you supposed to put in? You’ve lost count. Maybe two more for good measure. You’d rather make the coffee too strong than too weak. Nothing is worse than weak coffee. “Maybe I caught him on an off day. He did seem a little weird when he brought me to his house. And then I sort of told him off in the car…” 

This gets Ben away from the counter and walking over to you. “You did what?” 

“Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him off per se. I just asked him to give me a chance. It seemed like he’d already made a decision about me and we’d only known each other for a couple of hours.” 

“Good for you,” Ben replies. “Anakin is headstrong but he can be reasoned with. If the reason is worth being reasoned over.” 

“Am I?” you ask. “Worth being reasoned over?” 

Ben appears to give you a once over and then nods once. “Yes, I’d say so.” 

“Thanks…” you say with uncertainty. Ben takes himself and his briefcase to his office, which is the next door over from Anakin’s. He leaves you alone in the breakroom with a dozen questions. Was Ben assessing your appearance? Surely not for himself. He’s insanely in love with his wife— the mayor. Then who for? Anakin? No. No way. 

The coffee has begun to brew— the nutty notes of Philz Philtered Soul bringing you back to your college days. There’s one in walking distance from campus and you and Sabine spent every finals week there chugging back Mint Mojitos and Mocha Tesoras. 

Those days were not that long ago for you. For Anakin, on the other hand… 

You shake your head, effectively shaking thoughts of Anakin taking any interest in you away. And why would he have an interest in you? He’s bound to have a list of more age-appropriate women he can bring home to his children. 

Stop thinking about it. 

But it’s so damn hard not to. A forbidden office romance with your boss who’s 20 years your senior? Yeah, it’s cliché and sort of sounds like the plot to a porno but it’s sort of fun, too. As long as you keep yourself in check, what’s the harm in pretending like he’s secretly in love with you and wants to take you home? 

.

.

.

When Anakin gets into the office, he doesn’t even greet you before saying, “Call Rose. Tell her to come as soon as possible.” 

So much for him being nice yesterday. Now he won’t even look at you. “Who’s Rose? What- what is the appointment for?” 

“You don’t need to know what it’s for,” Anakin snaps. “Just find Rose in your little phone book, call her, and tell her I need to see her immediately.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” you say while thumbing through the contacts Dorothy left behind for you. Without another word, Anakin goes into his office and slams the door. 

What the hell was that about? That was once again another awkward morning of Anakin slamming his office door after talking to you. You thought you left work on good terms yesterday. What changed? 

.

.

.

Rose Montgomery arrives 47 minutes after you call her. You hear her Louboutins clicking on the floor before you see her. Your eyes trail up from her long legs to her slim waist and perky boobs until you reach her face. Good Lord. She is strikingly beautiful. Her fiery red hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders. As she walks closer to your desk, you are drawn to her perfectly round green eyes. She’s like the real-deal Jolene from Dolly Parton’s hit song. Seriously, did she grow up being called Jolene solely based on her looks? 

“Aw, look at you,” Rose smiles down at you. “You must be the new Dorothy.” 

“I suppose I am.” 

“Aren’t you just the most adorable thing.” 

Uh… What the hell are you supposed to say to that? “I’ll let Mr. Skywalker know you’re here.” 

“No need,” Rose informs. “I’ll let myself in.” She begins to walk away with an extra sway to her hips. You want to hate her but she’s got such an air of confidence that you actually want to be a little more like her. 

“Oh, um, actually I’m not sure about that,” you come out from behind your desk. “He seems to be in a mood so I don’t want you barging in his office to make it worse.” 

Rose turns on her heels and purses her lips. “Actually, sweetheart, I’ve known him longer than you and this isn’t my first ‘appointment’ with him. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go make his mood a little better.” 

Okay. Now you hate her. With that, Rose leaves you standing outside of Anakin’s office with a dumbfounded look on your face. Is that… is she… a booty call? 

All of the insinuations are there; from the air quotes around “appointment” to the way she said she’ll make Anakin’s mood better. Coupled with her outstanding looks, you’ve decided that Rose Montgomery is a friend with benefits of Anakin Skywalker. You trudge back to your desk and do your absolute best not to think about what’s happening behind your boss’s door. 

.

.

.

At the sound of his door opening, Anakin quickly closes his computer tab and turns off the monitor. He pulls his headphones off of his head and puts them in the drawer. 

Rose is none the wiser as she drops her Birkin bag on the table beside the chaise. “Ugh, who is that child you have sitting behind Dorothy’s desk?” 

“My new assistant,” Anakin answers through a dry throat. Rose sits herself on his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders. She begins playing with the ends of his curls, which normally, he would enjoy. But he really just wants to get this over with. He draws down the zipper of her black dress while she kisses along his jaw. 

“She seems incompetent,” Rose says between kisses. “What is she? Like, 15?” 

Anakin twirls Rose’s hair around his fist and yanks her face away from his. This makes her gasp with pleasure, and despite his annoyance, he loves the reaction he gets from her. “I didn’t fucking ask you here for your opinion on her. Do not talk about her again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Rose breathes. “Where do you want me?” 

“On your knees.”

.

.

.

When Rose leaves Anakin’s office, you can absolutely tell she and Anakin had sex. Did she even bother looking in the mirror or her phone camera before coming out? She avoids looking in your direction at all costs and knowing how awkward those walks of shame can be after a one night stand, you decide not to watch her walk to the elevator. 

You busy yourself in a filing cabinet until you hear Anakin’s door open again. You tell yourself not to look up because if you look up at him you might actually burst into tears. Which makes absolutely no sense to you but you feel that stinging in your nose and you’re trying to think of the time you got Panini because at least those were happy tears. 

Anakin says your name. 

Damnit. Get it together. You take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. At least he doesn’t look like he just had sex. His hair is combed back the same way it was when he walked in and his clothes are wrinkle free. “Yes, Mr. Skywalker?” 

“Would you like to go get lunch?” 

It’s only 10:45 but of course, he’d be hungry after having sex. “Oh, sure. What can I get you?” 

“I meant me.” 

You furrow your brows together. “Sorry?” 

“I mean us. You and me, together. Fuck,”  Anakin mumbles that last part. It’s like he loses the part of his brain that forms proper sentences when he looks at you. Think back to the car, Anakin. Things weren’t so bad in the car. Wait, yes they were. He told you to tell him if your butt got too toasty. 

You can’t help but smile as you start to see the Anakin who let his guard down in the car. He’s nothing like the Anakin who walked into the office this morning. “You want me to get lunch with you?” 

“Yes. If you would like.” 

You grab your thrifted black leather bag and your coat off of the back of your chair. “I think I’d like that very much.” 

I think I’d like that very much. 

That is the second time you’ve said that to Anakin. 

On the drive to the farm to table restaurant he suggested, he thinks about telling you the truth. That he’s Skyguy81 and you’ve been messaging each other for three years. Oh, and that he’s seen you naked. 

He weighs all of the pros and cons and all of the ways the situation could play out if he tells you. He decides the only way it’s going to end is with you quitting and never wanting to see him again. Telling you who he is is out of the question. 

Your face is buried in the menu, effectively blocking you from looking at Anakin. Your nerves are irritably on fire as you sit knee to knee with your boss. You go out to lunch with someone to talk. To get to know them. But you have no idea what to talk about with him. Either he’s super blunt or incredibly awkward and you don’t know what to make of it. 

Could Sabine be right? Does he have a crush on you? Do men in their forties even get crushes? 

“You are awfully quiet behind there,” Anakin finally says. “Are you hiding from me?” 

You slam your menu down nervously. “What? Oh, no. Just… looking at all of the options.” 

“I’m kidding,” Anakin chuckles. “If it helps, Leia likes the poke rice bowl. Luke likes the flatbread with artichokes. And I normally just get a burger.” 

“Wow, a 9 year old who likes poke? You’ve got some interesting kids.” 

“You have no idea,” Anakin replies bashfully. He really calms down when he talks about his kids. Maybe that’s your key to him. Keep him talking about his kids. 

“Well, I think I’ll try Leia’s favorite. Do your kids enjoy trying different types of food?” 

Anakin gives you a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose so. I didn’t raise them to be picky eaters. They eat what I eat. We had dumplings last night. They’re shit at using chopsticks but it makes for an entertaining meal.” 

You laugh along with him, feeling yourself relax the more you see Anakin relax. “I love dumplings!” 

“Yeah? We’ll have to have you over some time for dumplings, then.” Anakin doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until it’s hanging between you, awaiting your response. 

“That would be nice,” you admit. “I can’t wait to meet them. Of course, you know… if they even want to meet me.” 

“Are you kidding? Luke almost threw a fit over me leaving you in the car yesterday. And Leia… well, Leia gets excited about any new woman in my life. I mean, not that you’re my new woman, just you know, in terms of you being Dorothy’s replacement and-” 

You place your hand over Anakin’s without a second thought. And it’s more than just skin on skin. It’s electric. You resist the urge to pull away because the overwhelming feeling almost keeps you from saying: “It’s fine, Mr. Skywalker. I get what you mean.” 

Anakin is looking down at your hands and you wonder if he feels it too. Or if it’s entirely inappropriate to put your hand on his and he’s going to go back to being standoffish. You remove your hand from his and sit on it. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” Anakin murmurs. “Mr. Skywalker. I would much prefer you to call me Anakin.” 

You look up at him timidly. He’s being sincere. One corner of his lips are quirked up to form a sideways smile and your heart— your stupid, stupid heart adores it.  Perhaps there is harm in pretending like your boss is in love with you. Perhaps keeping yourself in check is going to be a lot more difficult than you thought. Because now that you’re on a first name basis with Anakin Skywalker, you fear simply being his assistant is not going to be enough.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter four (coming soon)

[worldlxvlys]

hello🙋🏻‍♀️ I'VE GOT A REALLY GOOD FIC IDEA! i've got a request for dwb!chris. okay, here it goes: reader doesn't answer his texts so he kinda gets worried but since reader is lowkey bipolar he gives "her" space and all but he hasn't seen her in a few days so he kind of gets worried and after a while he finds out she's being held hostage by guys chris have deals with and shit yk? you just go from here just don't kill reader nor chris please🥲 (not yet) ily🫂

taken

dwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: reader held hostage, mentions of blood, violence, knives, guns, mentions of gun shots, reader is tied up, cursing

a/n: for @mbbsgf ily <33

it will make more sense if you read prison for life first ;)

silence was the only thing i could hear.

my eyes were open, but i was only met with darkness.

there was a stinging sensation where my hairline met my forehead and a faint ringing in my ears.

i tried to move my hands, but something held them captive.

my fear started to grow as i tried to move my feet, only to find them immobilized as well.

i couldn’t move and i couldn’t see. i needed to rely on the senses that i could use.

taste. there was a copper-like taste in my mouth, blood.

feel. something rough was wrapped around my wrists, it dug into the skin, creating a burning sensation.

hear. i tried to focus on what could be heard beyond the silence. wait, silence ? no, not silence. there’s a slight humming noise, almost like an engine.

smell. gasoline. i’m in a moving car.

fuck. how am i gonna get out of here ?

what if i don’t get out of here ?

are they gonna kill me ?

stop, breathe. you need to calm down.

i focused on my breathing, doing my best to keep it at a normal rate.

i just need to stay calm and think.

CHRIS’S POV

at first, i figured she needed some space. it wasn’t unusual for her to need time to herself, and i’m always willing to give it.

but the second her location turned off, i panicked.

we always agreed to keep each other’s location turned on, no matter how angry we were with each other, to give the other peace of mind.

once her location was off, i immediately called around.

anyone and everyone who could have seen anything suspicious or heard anything at all was called.

the odds of absolutely nobody knowing anything were slim to none.

and sure enough, after a few calls, i found someone who had information.

“yeah, chris. not too long ago, jerry saw your girl with jones and his boys”

my face fell at his name.

“jones?” i asked in confirmation.

“yeah, why ? what’s wrong?”

“he took her. and it’s my fault”

“what ? he took her?”

“i’m getting her back. i can’t lose her”

“i’ll get the boys”

READER’S POV

the car came to a sudden stop as i heard muffled voices get closer.

there was a loud beeping noise before a rush of cold air hit me.

i was forcefully yanked out of, what i assume to be the trunk, both arms being gripped tightly.

i was thrown over someone’s shoulder, which roughly hit my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

i broke out into a coughing fit, trying to regain my breath, which is pretty difficult to do when you’re hanging upside down.

“shut the hell up” a gruff voice spoke.

the voice seemed familiar, but i couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

i assumed that it had something to do with one of the many drug deals i had went out with chris to.

i assumed that this entire situation had to do with chris and his dealing habits, but i really had no way of knowing for sure.

i couldn’t, however, think of any other reason why i could be in my current situation.

hopefully, chris would be able to find me.

after what felt like a long while, i was placed onto a chair.

suddenly, the blindfold that had been covering my eyes was yanked off, making me squint my eyes at the harsh lighting.

i blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the change.

“what’s wrong, princess? the light bothering you?” the man in front of me spoke.

he saw my eyebrows furrow in confusion and removed the piece of tape that covered my mouth.

“you recognize me yet?” he smirked at me.

i blinked up at him.

“of course not. we met briefly a while ago, but i’ll reintroduce myself. i’m jones, jake’s best friend”

my face fell at the revelation.

jake. as in the dude that chris beat to a bloody pulp and put into a coma, that jake.

“that’s right, honey. the one your boyfriend put in the hospital ”

well, i’m fucked.

he took in my frightened state, finding the way i shrank away from him amusing.

“yeah, not sure why your little fuck toy thought he was gonna get off scot-free, but he was wrong. cause i got the one thing he would do anything for, right here in front of me” he spoke as he twirled a knife between his fingers.

“can’t say i blame him though” he whispered as he brought the knife to my cheek, drawing the faintest bit of blood, making me grimace. “you’re a pretty little thing”

his hot breath blew in my face, making me back my head up as much as i possibly could.

“i apologize in advance” he spoke as he ran his finger along the edge of the knife, “but i do have to rough you up a little bit, send a message to your boy”

CHRIS’S POV

“are we sure that this is where he took her?” i asked as jerry pulled up the address.

“the street cams put him here about 20 minutes ago. he couldn’t have gotten much farther”

“i just wanna be sure, we don’t have any time to waste here. but if you’re positive, we need to move now” i spoke as i tucked my gun into my waistband.

suddenly, my phone dinged with a text message.

i pulled it out, seeing it was a text from her.

i was met with a photo, and my heart dropped at the sight.

several bruises covered her face, along with a cut by her hairline that was surrounded by dried up blood.

her face was covered in sweat and her eyes were tired, her white shirt covered in blood.

underneath was a text that read:

123 RANDOM ADDRESS

RANDOM CITY, STATE

better hurry.

READER’S POV

i had been in the same spot for hours. i was cold, hungry, and my legs had fallen asleep.

i was trying, but struggling to stay awake, knowing that i was losing too much blood to let my eyes close.

my face was sore, the constant blows to the face finally taking its toll on me.

there was a deep cut from jones’ knife that laid across my ribcage, but i tried not to focus on the stinging sensation.

i knew i was really starting to lose my grip on reality when i heard chris’s voice, as i knew he couldn’t possibly be here.

suddenly, the sound of gunshots going off around me made my eyes shoot open.

that definitely woke me up.

the ringing in my ears intensified as the sound of gunshots rang out.

i could barely keep up with what was happening as the room around me began to spin around.

i looked directly in front of me and was barely able to make out chris and jones fighting.

so i wasn’t hearing things.

my vision began to get blurry as i struggled to figure out who was who.

the sounds of grunts and blows being landed echoed through the room.

“chris” i whispered out, but not loud enough for him to hear.

chris spoke angrily, but all i was able to make out was, “you fuckers need to learn how to stay away from my girl”

chris was able to get on top of jones, and he punched him over and over again.

he seemed to be blinded by rage, and he had no intentions of stopping.

“chris” i spoke out, loud enough for him to hear this time.

his head snapped up at the sound, and he rushed over to me.

“oh my god, baby. the fuck did he do to you?” he whispered as he worked on untying my restraints.

he gently ran his hands over my wrists, looking at the bruises that the rope left on my skin.

“alright, i got you. come on” he whispered as he picked me up, bridal style.

“you made it” i smiled lightly, before my vision was consumed by darkness.

——

when i woke up, i heard the sound of monitors beeping next to me and i felt chris’s hand laying on top of mine.

i took in my surroundings, realizing that i was in the hospital.

when chris saw that i was awake, he immediately sprung up.

“hey mama, how you feeling?” he asked.

“i’m just glad that you’re here. i didn’t think you would find me” i whispered to him.

he brought his hand to my jaw, lightly caressing it “i’ll always find you, baby. i’d do anything to make sure you’re safe, you know that”

“i love you so fucking much” i spoke as i leaned my forehead on his.

“i love you too, ma. i got you, always” he said as he placed a kiss on my cheek.

—————

thank you to @lustfulslxt for reassuring me and pushing me to keep writing, i literally would not have finished this without you <33

main masterlist

dwb! chris masterlist

tag list: @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @oliviasturniolo21

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

The Iceman Cometh - Dean x Reader

“The Iceman Cometh” - Dean x Reader

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader

Tags: Sweaty Dean, Turning Up The Heat, Ice Play, Mild Smut, Nipple Play, I Will Again Be Accused of Blue-Balling

Word Count: 1700

You normally love a sticky, slippery, and sweaty Dean. But, this. This is pushing it.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Ice-play" square.

A/N: I just wanted to mix things up and write something short and fun.

Image created in Canva (photo used/found online: Facebook - Una Vida SPN)

You normally love a sticky, slippery, and sweaty Dean. But, this. This is pushing it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean fists his hands leaning on the motel office counter.

“AC’s out in the only room I got left!” The old lady with coke bottle glasses and Wilma Flinstone pearls repeats herself. Her cigarette-laced voice is scratchy and a couple squeaks higher this time.

You groan. Dean side-eyes you but doesn’t turn his head to acknowledge the irritation.

“It’s 100 degrees out. We get some kinda discount for pain and suffering?” he asks.

“I’ll knock ten bucks off the bill.”

“Ten bucks?” You huff out an incredulous chuckle.

“We’ll take it.”

Before you can yell at him, Dean’s already slapped a credit card on the counter.

~~~~~

Of course, this had to be the first motel with a vacancy during the two-hour trek through the Nevada desert region.

The hotbox of a room smells of mildew, cigarettes, and vinegar. You plod through the humidity and stale stench. Every bit of odor clings to your perspiring skin so there’s no escaping it. Dean curses as he taps buttons and thumbs dials on the window air conditioner, just to verify it's inoperable. You drop your bag on the bed and beeline to the bathroom. 

Dean needs a shower more than you. He was the one who wrestled and skewered a ghoul in a sacred burial ground. But you’re gonna be salty about his decision to stop. You’d wanted to keep going, offering to share driving duties. Who cares if neither one of you had slept in over 24 hours? 

Your pants are around your ankles in a second. The loose porcelain bowl seesaws under your weight. Regardless, you sigh in relief, weeing out all the water you’ve been guzzling to stay hydrated. 

The rap of Dean’s knuckles on the bathroom door interrupts your steady stream of piss. “I’m gonna grab somethin’ at the diner we passed.” Dean’s second preferred method of appeasing you is feeding you. “Be back as soon as I can. Save me some COLD water, baby.” 

A hard tug of the motel door seconds later rattles the paint-by-numbers sagebrush framed on the wall behind the toilet. 

Dean left without taking your food order. You grind your teeth.

~~~~~

Forty minutes pass before the familiar engine rumbles into the lot and headlights flash through the sheer curtains.

The diner was a good fifteen minutes away, one-way, if Dean had been going the speed limit. The Impala’s warp speed must have been activated for him to have actually ordered and brought back dinner. Your stomach somersaults with distress and hunger pangs.

Dean opens the door only to hover within the threshold, a human doorstop.

You’re in a tank top and boy shorts. The best thing you could use to fan yourself is a file folder Sam stuffed with case material before you and Dean left Kansas.

Dean stretches and drops the bag of takeout on the nearby kitchenette table. He eyes you with a frown. “I’m sorry it’s shit in here. I’d say we could sleep in Baby, but it’s worse outside. Seriously.”

You’re laid atop the bed stripped of its scratchy and threadbare comforter, which is now a heap on the floor. “You know, all the times you’ve had to put that car back together again piece by piece; maybe one of those times you could have installed some air conditioning.”

He raises a finger to signal you should wait for something impressive. He dips half his body back outside, foot holding the door open. There’s bumping and huffing. Then the green cooler appears, held triumphantly in his hands. “I brought ice! Waitress at the diner sold me pounds of the stuff.” He’s sensibly in only a t-shirt, having left his duffle and jacket in the room when he’d left earlier. 

“The iceman cometh.” The eyeroll is excessive, but you can’t seem to not.

“Eat, grumpy. My turn for a shower.”

~~~~~

He crunches ice chips. You suck on one cube, swirling it from one cheek pocket to the other until it melts, and then repeat with another. Forearm to forearm, you both sprawl out on the queen-sized mattress. You snapped at him earlier about the heat the boob tube would create. He stews alongside your percolating tension. You’ve allowed the bathroom light to stay on. A yellow fluorescent haze slices from the open door and spills over Dean.

There’s no escape from the heat.

“Pulse points,” he mutters.

“Right,” you snip. Your hand scoops ice out of your red solo cup. You circle a cube along your inner wrist.

There’s a shake from his side of the bed. You glance over. He’s shirtless, clad only in his boxers, rubbing ice up and down the back of his neck. Which only pisses you off more.

This hunt was supposed to end days ago. You were supposed to be celebrating your anniversary at the bunker today. You had some fun times planned. A surprise dinner of all Dean’s favorites and a movie marathon in the Dean Cave.

“I’m sorry,” you and Dean mumble simultaneously.

“We’ll get back on the road soon, sweetheart. I was spent and seeing double. Even if I can’t sleep, it’ll help just not being in motion.”

“I’ve been a major bitch.” You laugh at Dean’s deer-in-headlights reaction to your admission. “You don’t have to agree or disagree on that count, babe. You know how I get when shit doesn’t go according to plan. And, this fucking heat is not helping.”

“We both pop our tops an equal amount. That’s what makes us perfect for each other.” The backs of two of his fingers skim your elbow.

“Except when we both blow up at the same time.”

“Nah, that’s even better. Then we get to have angry make-up sex.”

You whoop out a laugh. “That’s never happened.”

“It could now?”

You grin. “But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything else.”

He shrugs. “Take it out on me, then.” He reconsiders. “Or, let me cool you down?”

It’s your turn to raise a brow.

Dean grins. He tips his head way back with the cup to his lips. He shakes his hand and the ice crackles. Cup back in his lap, you spot one cheek puffed out like a chipmunk. His face crinkles up.

“You’re gonna give yourself brain freeze, idiot.”

“Worth it,” he mumbles.

His lips lean in to press a kiss. You giggle at Dean’s clumsy attempt with a mouthful of ice. A surprised squeal follows when he slips an ice cube between pursed lips to run across yours. He pulls back and smiles, crooked and unhinged. He plops the cubes into his cup sounding like a penny slot machine and sits it on his side table. 

He pulls you in close for a kiss, expertly grabbing your cup from your hands. You can’t be bothered to care where he hides it.

His tongue is so cool. A popsicle with a mind of its own that you want to suck on for days. He’s very agreeable to the way your lips wrap around it. He moans. You love the particular sound of that one. It strains out of his throat. Thankful. Relaxed.

He’s fiddling with more ice, having wedged your cup between two pillows. “You’re always so hot,” he quips after you relinquish his tongue.

You skim one leg between his thighs. The skin contact is tacky and sticky. “You’re always so cheesy.”

“Not always,” Dean says with a smirk. “In this instance, I’m just stating a fact.”

You hiccup a gasp at the ice cube he presses to your wrist without warning.

Dean glides it slow, a serpentine slither, to the crook of your elbow. He swirls the spot and lets it melt and drip from your body to the sheets. His green eyes concentrate on the task. 

You can’t help but lose yourself watching him. His body shimmers in a sheen of sweat. Every minute shift highlights the beautiful angles of his face. Perspiration beads up under the hairline of his forehead. You can’t resist kissing and sipping at his upper lip. He grins and returns the gesture.

He uses another piece of ice to continue upward to your shoulder. He traces the shoulder strap of your tank. A hop over it and he’s sliding down the outline of your collar. It’s a quick ride into your cleavage where he lets the remnants melt and add to the already damp material.

His tongue laps at the wetness that’s collected there. You sigh and lean back. He hums and kisses the curve of your breast, slides the strap down, and then nuzzles into the notch of your armpit.

After a few seconds, he rises up in order to gaze into your eyes with the most innocent of expressions; even though he’s freed one of your tits from the confines of your clothing.

More ice rattles by your ear like maracas.

You’re in trouble.

You purse your lips at the biting cold against your neck. It’s electrifying and refreshing. He outlines your collarbone back and forth for emphasis. A shift and he’s leaning beside you, up on one elbow to drink in the sight. One leg drapes over yours, locking you into place. You feel the growing bulge in his boxers. There’s no escaping what he has in store.

He juggles two cubes between his fingers and journeys along the crest of your breast. He’s grinning with mischief and lust now. Then his mouth parts when the ice meets your nipple. Your flesh hardens and tightens on contact. You groan. Your core clenches.

He gnaws on his bottom lip as he circles the dark pebbling bud. Air squeaks out of your mouth. You squirm. It’s a beautiful freeze burn of contrast.

Once the ice melts, his fingers, also chilled, take over kneading and pinching. His patience gone, he bends down and latches onto your cool tit. He nurses with that sinful mouth and grazes your nipple with tongue and teeth until your skin tingles back to life.

You are so out of your head with the noises he’s making and the show he’s putting on, that you're ill-prepared for his cold fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

You shriek giggle, “Dean!”

He ends his sucking with a loud pop. He whispers against your lips, “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Update: Got inspired and filled another bingo square with these two. You can read "Just A Little Spice" here.

[themidnightcrimson]

religion ࿏ wm

summary: in which the new reverend at your hometown church wants to give you a lesson on sexual immorality.

words: 5.6K

warnings: pastor!wanda, fem!reader, oral (r giving), fingering (r receiving), slight non-con/dubcon, manipulation, dumbification, degradation, religion, lots of bible verses, rip my religious trauma, spank me with a bible, fuck me with the crucifix, yes lord in wanda's name we pray amen

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

A few women in the church had put together a potluck after one Sunday sermon, or a “covered dish supper” as the elders liked to call them. You remembered loving those potlucks as much as you loved church itself when you were a child. As the years went by and your worldview got bigger and your mind opened up to the broader possibilities that this was not what life should be like, you scarcely ever went to church.

Upon moving away for college, the idea of church was a laughable thing to you. You could hardly even remember what the rituals were anymore, or the verses, or the hymns. It wasn’t necessarily a hatred or aversion, but rather a bitter distaste in your mouth when reminded of how indoctrinated you and your whole community were into the church. You just weren’t religious anymore, and you preferred living life that way, though it took years of untying the knots of theological principals and “truths” from your mind.

When you were back in your hometown for a visit, your mother nearly fell over at the sight of the little rainbow bracelet on your wrist. After a very heated conversation where you threw in her face the fact that you had been with multiple women in college, she seemed to give up and leave the conversation alone—until the next morning she asked you to come to church with her.

“Really? You think going to church is going to reverse the way that I was born? You expect me to just pray the gay away?!” you yelled at her, but she was calm. She said that was not her intentions, but rather they were to simply have you come see everyone you grew up around. She said that there was a new pastor there who was younger and could relate better to youth without that kind of feigned wise judgment that the other pastor, a wobbly old man, used.

You fought tooth and nail against your mom in a thirty-minute argument until finally you were just too tired to fight against her anymore. You felt how you did in high school—getting lectured by your mom for skipping church only a single Sunday, being placed under her godly ray of obstinance that so easily drained you until you just couldn’t fight anymore. She forced you to wear one of your church dresses from high school and practically shoved you into the car that Sunday morning. You were just looking forward to the potluck afterward.

As your mom pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, you realized that they had done renovations on the sanctuary since you had been gone. It was bigger now, with huge mosaic windows facing the front and a new pure white cross on top of the spire, making the triangular building look even taller and more pointed than it already was.

“This new pastor a millionaire or something?” you mumbled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“No, she’s just so brilliant and amazing that she’s attracted dozens of new parishioners since she came,” she explained. “You’ll see. She really has a way of connecting with young people, especially young women. I couldn’t tell you how many girls your age have joined in the past year!”

Crinkling your eyebrows, you stepped out of the car and took a breath of fresh air. Even in the parking lot, you could pick up that familiar smell of wood and old books. “The pastor is a woman?” you asked, remembering only male pastors. Although your denomination was open towards female pastors, the general misogyny of your small-town Southern community had always favored men, of course.

“Uh huh,” your mother said as she stepped out of the car and fixed her hair in the wind, walking over to you and gently grabbing your arm suddenly. “Y/n, I should probably let you know… I did call Reverend Maximoff last night and told her a little about your…situation.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her incredulously. “What?!” Had your mother really gone and called the local pastor to tell her that her daughter was gay?

“Look, it’s important for a pastor to know their parishioners’ personal lives in order to truly connect with them. I’m not saying I asked her to… pray the gay away or whatever you said, but I just let her know that you were having some…sexually immoral feelings. She’s helped many young women here with the same problem.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed, jerking your arm away from your hand. An old couple walking by glanced over at you, and you blushed and looked away, speaking quieter. “Why the hell would you tell some woman I don’t even know that I’m having sex with women?!”

“She’s not some woman, she’s an ordained minister of God!” your mother exclaimed. “She’s not going to drag you up in front of the church and hang you, for God’s sake! She was just concerned that you’re not living your life under the guidance of God and would be happy to give you a steering hand, that’s all! She didn’t even say anything about the gay part—just the promiscuity!”

Curse words formed on your lips, but you pursed them together, pushing past your mother and towards the church so you could get this thing over with. “Promiscuity my ass,” you muttered as you burst open the church doors, hit with that familiar old smell. It looked different now that it had been renovated, the ceiling and windows much taller and the carpet redone, but it was the same wooden pews you remembered as a child and the same large altar with a grand piano and steps for the choir.

You looked around at all the familiar townspeople sitting in the pews as the choir, dressed in their robes and holding their hymnals, made their way to the chancel in formation. You realized that your mother was right when she said that the church had grown—all of the pews were jammed full of people, except for a little spot near the front where there was enough room for two people to squeeze in. Feeling aggravated and brash, you stormed to the front and shimmied past the row of people to sit down in the empty spot, your mother scrambling down beside you.

“Please don’t be angry in the house of God,” she began.

You ignored her, looking around and seeing that there were groups of young women your age looking excitedly towards the altar, waiting for the pastor to come out. You assumed maybe the pastor had started a women’s group and was just mentoring the young women.

Reaching forward, you took the hymnal book sitting in the slot behind the pew in front of you, opening up its yellowed pages and flipping through. You could still remember some of the songs, but before you could read one, there was a hushing whisper among the congregation.

Glancing upwards, you saw Reverend Maximoff emanating from behind the altar, glancing out among the ground with a smile as she stepped to the front. You were shocked to see her—she was older than you, but not by too much. She had a youthful smile to her face and twinkling green eyes, her blonde hair cut right to the shoulders of the maroon robe and dark green stole she wore.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, her voice loud and confident. The church crowd silenced and gave their full attention to her. “Today we will start by worshiping the Lord our God with our choir’s beautiful voices, as well as your own.” Her Southern accent was feminine and airy with a cheerful tune to it, as if she was already singing by simply speaking. “Please turn to page 304 in your hymnals and stand to worship the Lord with us.”

The sound of people standing and pages turning filled your ears, and you found yourself flipping to the page and standing up along with everyone else, realizing that your muscle memory was still there. It felt odd being in that place again, viewing the solemnity and respect of religion in a community sense.

The choir started, and then the rest of the church joined in, singing the hymn in unison. You didn’t sing at first, until your mother’s elbow stabbed your ribcage, so you quietly mumbled the words.

Glancing up, you watched Reverend Maximoff singing at her stand, face turned towards the choir and grinning at them as the words formed on her lips. You had to admit that for a pastor, she was beautiful and charming. Her smile was nearly mesmerizing as her head slowly turned towards the congregation in appreciation for their singing, eyes casting over the pews of people until they flickered near you. Realizing that you were staring, you quickly glanced down at the book before she could make eye contact with you. Feeling suddenly nervous, you mindlessly stared at the book until you figured she would be looking somewhere else, looking back up only to find that she was looking right at you.

All you could hear were the choral praises of God as the Reverend’s eyes bore into yours. The smile on her face faded a little, her focus zoning in on you through the crowd. You remembered what your mother had told her about you, the thought bringing a sickly blush of shame to your cheeks. Why was she staring at you? Was she judging you? Thinking about what a dirty sinner you were? You couldn’t take it, but you couldn’t look away either.

Finally, the song ended, and she broke eye contact.

“Thank you so much. You may please be seated.”

The crowd sat down and put their hymnals away as the choir did the same, and once everyone was finally still and quiet, the Reverend opened her Bible and started flipping through pages to find notes for her sermon.

“Today, people, we will be talking about the one thing we think about almost all of the time—our bodies.” Your teeth ached as you braced yourself for whatever religious bullshit was about to be shoved down your throat. “Our bodies—whether it be our health, our appearance, the work we can do with them, what we eat, what we drink—our bodies remain a constant thought in our mind.”

She stepped out from behind the stand, walking to the front steps of the altar and peering out at the crowd with her luring eyes like a bird.

“God tells us in His Word that our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit. You see, we do not own our flesh and blood. Our body is a sacrament to Him in everything we do with it. Our divine purpose on this Earth is to use our bodies the Lord has given us as a vessel for the Spirit, to spread His Holy Word. If our bodies are unholy, or if we use them to transgress against His Word, we are violating His purpose for them.”

As much as you wanted to dissociate and just block out whatever she was saying, a strange curiosity overcame you that kept your eyes trained on her as she stepped down the altar steps to get even closer to the crowd, holding the Bible in her hands.

“There are many ways that we sin with our bodies every day. When your mouth curses, when your hands do not pray to Him, when your feet lead you to unholy places. One of the most extreme ways that we go against the Holy Spirit within us is when we commit the very sin that seems to have a grasp on the youth today—sexual immorality.”

There it was. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath, trying to control the anger within you.

“I want y’all to turn to one of my favorite passages in the Word,” she said, turning to walk towards the other side of the pew as she waited for people to turn to the verse. “1 Corinthians 6:13.”

You wouldn’t dare to pick up a Bible. You crossed your arms and ignored your mother’s urging glances as the Reverend started to read.

“You say, food for the stomach and the stomach for the food, and God will destroy them both. The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the large room. You watched her, her back turned from you, as she paced the other side of the room before turning, walking towards your side of the pew with her eyes trained on the book. “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead, wishing you could escape this cultish experience. Still, you watched her, the way her lips formed the words, the way her face looked pointed down to the book, eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she read the words.

“But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” She turned down the center aisle, and as she got closer to your pew, you started to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Suddenly, her eyes lifted from the pages and pierced you sideways. You felt frozen under her stare as she discreetly eyed you, not even having to look at the page to recite, “Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.”

Her voice was lower now, serious and clear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers as she slowly floated past you, her robe wafting around her ankles. You noticed the way her svelte hands held the Bible, a single digit lifting to flick the page. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on her lips as she finally looked away from you and kept preaching, walking down the aisle.

Finally, you could breathe. Surprise filled you as you realized that you had started sweating—were you really so demonic that you were sweating in the pews of a church? But why did she look right at you as she read that particular verse? Was she targeting you because of what your mother had said?

You could barely listen to the rest of the sermon as she talked about sexual immorality and fleeing from it by turning your mind and body towards the Lord.

At the potluck, you couldn’t help but find your eyes drifting to wherever Reverend Maximoff was in the room. Potlucks were always held in a building connected to the sanctuary where they had special events and meetings. She drifted around the room chatting with different members of the congregation, her eyes somehow always finding yours right as you were looking at her. You would blush and quickly look away, redirecting your focus on what the old lady was talking to you and your mom about.

You didn’t realize that she was waiting for you to be alone. Finally, you left your mom and the lady to go to the table filled with homemade desserts, browsing around for something chocolate.

A hand on your lower back made you gasp and turn. You were shocked to see Reverend Maximoff standing close beside you, still dressed in her robes. “Y/n,” she greeted you with a pearly smile, her earrings dangling from her ears. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mom has talked about you so much since I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” you said with a polite smile. “Has she?”

“Yes,” she smoothly answered, stepping even closer to you. “I’m very glad you came today. I must tell you that the Lord has speaking to my heart about you quite a lot.”

“Oh yea?” you said disinterestedly, more focused on the way her eyes kept darting down your body, trying to pinpoint why she was ogling you.

She tilted her head and closed her smile, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “You know, I was hoping you would have a session with me here sometime, before you go back to college. I would love to talk more with you and get to know you. You were at this church long before I was, and I would love to give you some heavenly advice on whatever is pressing at your heart.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Nothing’s pressing at my heart but my ribcage.”

She giggled, and it surprised you. “No, there’s always something for pretty young women like you.” You flushed a little at her choice of words. “God has a plan for you, y/n, but I get the feeling you may need some guidance to get you there.”

“You get these feelings a lot?” you droned, picking up a brownie from the table and taking a bite, keeping eye contact with her. You weren’t going to let this pastor try to get her godly claws in you.

Her eyes flickered to your mouth as you took a bite of the brownie, her irises darkening. “Come see me after the Wednesday night sermon. Maybe…” She reached forward and took the half-eaten brownie from your hand, her fingers grazing yours. “I can teach you to use your mouth to praise the Lord.”

She put the half of the brownie into her mouth and chewed it with a smirk. Frozen and confused, you stared at her as she put her thumb in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, winking and floating away from you. Your entire body went hot as her words folded over in your mind, as well as the sight of her eating the brownie you had just had between your teeth.

Normally, you would’ve declined any invitation to have personal sessions with a Reverend, but the brief interaction you had with Reverend Maximoff had you offput and curious. Your mother almost cried in relief when you told her that you would be going to the Wednesday night sermon as well as staying behind to speak with the Reverend.

Wednesday’s sermon went the same as Sunday’s. There were less people there that night, naturally, and although Wednesday night sermons were usually shorter than Sunday’s, it seemed like Reverend Maximoff was antsy to be finished with it. She spoke faster with less focus, ending the sermon after only an hour. Your mother excitedly hurried away with the rest of the congregation, and you anxiously stayed in the pew as the Reverend talked with some lingering people until finally she ushered them all out, closing and locking the church doors behind the last person.

You turned your head and watched her as she sighed, holding onto the doors for a moment before turning around to look at you, clasping her hands at her front.

“Y/n,” she began lowly, turning her face down slightly as her eyes trained on you, her feet slowly leading her up the aisle towards you. “I was so glad when I saw you here tonight.”

“Well,” you began, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

It was only partially true. You could have caught up with your old friends or went out to dinner or even just stayed home and watched TV, but something lured you into that church that night, and you felt it had something to do with the way she predatorily eyed you as she neared you.

She said nothing as she came closer, sucking her cheeks as you could see words forming in her brain. “Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” A smirk drew itself on her lips. “Acts 20:28.”

You just raised your eyebrows and nodded impressively. “You have the Bible memorized. Good for you.”

Ignoring your sly comment, she spoke, “It means that, as the Reverend of this church, it is my duty to be a shepherd.”

“That is what the verse says.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, her lips parted at distaste of your attitude. “What did I tell you about your mouth?” she snapped, her voice edged and cutting as it echoed loudly off the walls of the church, reminding you how alone you were with her. You stiffened in the pew.

She neared you, resting a hand on the edge of the pew as she stood before you. “As a shepherd, I must keep watch of my flock. I must be aware of them all the time—their lives, feelings, behaviors, their walk with God.” She paused, her tongue settling over her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Tell me, what path do you walk?”

You blinked, lips opening and closing as you tried to understand what she was asking.

“Do you walk the ways of the wicked? The ways of Satan himself?” Without breaking eye contact, she lowered and sat on the pew beside you. “Does your body sin against the Spirit?”

Looking down, you shook your head and laughed. “I know my mom told you. Believe me when I say I have no inclination to your religion, and I never will. I don’t need to be scrutinized or judged.”

“Your mother was only acting as a shepherd by leading you to me, and I thank her for that,” she remarked, her eyes glancing down at your dress where the ends stopped at your mid-thigh, leaving your legs bare. “I fear you are not treating your body as the temple of God it is. You have tainted it with your sexual proclivities, haven’t you, y/n?”

Your face started to burn at her outright words. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, how do you prefer to use your body? Like a whore? Like a destitute slut?”

Ears burning at the sound of her husky voice, your face burned even hotter. The shock of her words left you speechless and utterly confused as to how a Reverend would speak to someone that way.

“You can tell me, y/n. Only God is watching us.” She reached forward suddenly, placing her hand on your thigh and sliding it upwards. The touch startled you and made you jump to your feet.

She looked up at you with a twisted smirk as you started to tremble with nervousness. “What kind of a Reverend are you?”

“One who will do anything to guide her people to God,” she lilted, standing up and reaching for you again. You backed away, bumping into the wooden back of the pew and circling around it to get away from her. You jumped up the steps of the altar.

“What are you doing?!”

“So Christ himself gave the apostles,” she began in her pastor voice she used during the sermon, circling the pew to saunter towards you again, stalking like a predator, “the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up.” She took a slow step up the altar, grinning devilishly. “Ephesians 4:11-12.” She lowered her chin. “I can help you restore your body’s temple. I can sanctify you, make you whole again in the eyes of the Lord.”

Your heartbeat fluttered at the way she was seductively eyeing you, sauntering up the steps, the sultry and sensual tone in her voice. You let her come near you and place a hand on your waist that made you shiver all over.

Whispering, she said, “As God’s apostle, I offer you a direct line to worship Him and beg for forgiveness.” Her other hand softly cupped your chin, feeling the blushing skin here. Her thumb grazed over your lower lip, her dilated eyes drinking up your mouth like thick wine, and she recited, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.”

The verse burned in your ears—it was one you had memorized for Sunday school so many years ago and somehow still subconsciously remembered. You whispered, “Psalms 141:2.”

Her grin widened. “Good girl.” She licked her lips, thumb still grazing your own. “From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:20-21.”

It became hard to breathe when two of her fingers slipped through your lips and sunk slowly over your tongue.

“What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them. Matthew 15:11,” she recited, her own lips parting in a sigh as she slid her fingers further into your mouth.

A soft noise escaped your throat as you let her feel your mouth, your legs becoming weak. Her grip on your waist tightened when you flicked your tongue between her fingers and closed your lips, sucking dutifully on them. She jutted her lower teeth in desire, stepping so close to you that there was no room to breathe. Your skin felt hot all over, and you became suddenly aware of the cross hanging at the front of the altar, as if it were burning into your back.

The Reverend licked the back of her teeth, eyes trained on her fingers disappearing into your mouth as she whispered, “Shall you use your tongue to praise the Lord our God?”

A dirty sucking sound escaped your mouth as you sucked her fingers, and you were so under her trance, her beautiful green eyes, the way she was so enamored with your mouth, that you eagerly nodded around her fingers.

A half smile curled on her open lips as she slid her fingers out of your mouth, placing a hand on your shoulder and harshly pushing you down. Your knees hit the velvet red steps of the altar as Reverend Maximoff, standing on the step below you, placed one leg on the upper step and started to lift up her robe. You kneeled, watching in all of God’s glory, with the church’s mosaic windows behind her, as the Reverend lifted up her maroon robes and bunched them with one hand at her hips, exposing her bare pussy. With one foot on the step below your knees, and the other foot beside your knees, she tilted open her thigh and placed a hand on the back of your head.

You shivered at the feeling of her fingers in your hair as she pushed your head towards her, bucking her hips. You were filled with pulsing desire as you placed your hands gently on her hips and let her draw your mouth towards her, opening your lips and finding her slick folds. Your tongue ran over her slit, and you moaned at her taste, at how she was so wet that her juices already covered your lips.

Reverend Maximoff sighed, leaning her head back as you found her clit and started to lap at it. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, pushing her hips towards your face as you suckled on her clit.

You could hardly keep up with her as she pushed your head and bucked her hips at the same time, forcing her clit onto your tongue. Your mouth involuntarily closed when one particular thrust of your head was too rough, to which she snapped, “Open your mouth! Proverbs 31:26—She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” Her sentence ended with a piercing moan as you opened your mouth wider for her and let her fuck it as she pleased.

Whining from the force, you furiously tried to pleasure her—as much as you could with the way she was practically pleasuring herself with your mouth like it was a toy. You melted at the sounds of her moans and gasps that echoed in the church, at the way that you were kneeling on the altar with your head between her legs, at the way her hand was tangled in your hair. Her clit tangibly throbbed on your tongue as her hips thrusted harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she screamed as she came, grinding her clit against your tongue and grabbing your hair so hard that your scalp ached. You struggled to breathe, eyes tearing up from the pressure on your face, listening to her catch her breath and loosen her grip on your hair. Finally, she moved away from you, dropping her robe back down her ankles. You were panting, lips puffy and red and covered in her wetness, eyes glistening as you stared up at her, drunk with lust. She grinned, biting her lip. “You serve the Lord well. Come.”

She offered out her hands, and you took them, letting her help you to her feet and guide you to the front pew. She sat down, keeping hold of your hands, and pulled you down so you straddled her lap. She sighed, her eyes looking everywhere at you except your face.

Her fingers crawled to the straps of your dress, slowly tugging them down your bare shoulders. She recited, “How beautiful you are and how pleasing, my love, with your delights.” Her voice was quiet in the silent room, burning at your ears as you tried to stay focused with the taste of her still on your lips. Her eyes sunk down your chest as she started to pull the dress down your breasts. “I said, I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”

She tugged the fabric of your dress over your breasts, exposing them as they bounced over the fabric. Taking a sharp breath, she drew one hand to your tit and squeezed the soft flesh there, earning a gasp from you.

“May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” Her eyes, which were trained on your exposed chest in front of her, flickered up to your face, catching the gloss of her cum on her lips. She raised her other hand and spread her fingers over your lips, smearing the wetness across your mouth. “May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.”

You started to throb at her touches, at her words, at her inebriated eyes. Her hand that groped your breast fell down to your thighs, urging the end of your dress upwards as it slid up your skin.

“Song of Songs 7:6-9,” she whispered with finality as she danced her fingers up your inner thigh, and you watched her hand disappear under your skirt. “Is your body a temple of God, y/n?” she asked you as she parted your panties with her fingers.

You nodded desperately, so turned on by what she had done to your mouth, so dumbed down by the verses and the touches and the taste of her. She bit her lip and moaned as her fingers touched your slick cunt, grazing over your clit before two of them sunk into your hole.

Head falling back, you grabbed at the shoulders of her robe and whined as she plunged her fingers inside you, your wetness already making a dirty squelching noise as she pumped inside of you.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she husked as she wrapped an arm around your hip to steady your bucking motions. “You’ve been a dirty girl, y/n. You’ve used your body to sin against His Word. My hand of God can only do so much—you need to beg for his forgiveness.” An evil smirk lined her lips.

You could barely hear what she was saying as she fucked her fingers into you, your hips moving up and down in desperate search for more of her. She thumbed at your clit as she waited for you to answer, leaning forward to press wet kisses on your nipples that bounced with your motions.

“Please, God,” you began shakily, “Forgive me.”

“That’s not good enough,” she tutted, suddenly pushing a third finger inside you. Your mouth fell open at the stretch and the burst of sensations that exploded when she curled her fingers inside you. “Beg Him. Beg Him to forgive you for being a dirty whore.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed when she bit your nipple, jamming her fingers into you harshly. “P-Please, God,” you began breathlessly, squeezing the Reverend’s shoulders as pressure built inside you. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for?” she urged, biting your other nipple and sucking on it.

You tried to remember exactly what she had said as your orgasm threatened to impend upon you. “F-For, for being a dirty whore!” The sound of your own voice saying those words pushed you over the edge, your inner walls clenching around the Reverend’s fingers. Your hips rocked hard against her hand as she watched in pure desire and delight, grinning when you finally came down from your climax.

“Very good, my child,” she soothed as you panted, her fingers still inside you. You trembled on her lap, seeing that your wetness had dripped onto her hand and down her maroon robe. “The Lord our God is a merciful one. He forgives you.” She played with the end of your dress, moving her fingers inside you and seeing just what a mess she had made of you. She looked up at your beat red face and teary eyes, her eyes alight with an idea. “Have you ever been baptized?”

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon || Chapter 3: The moon || Chapter 4: The sun || Chapter 5: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,373

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 6:

THE MOON

I took her to a familiar flower shop, base on her files—I coincidentally made her meet up a friend, I watch her laugh, smile, and tease around with her friend. I get constant glance from her friend, who seems to be suspecting something but didn’t say anything.

I could only smile, not just an ordinary friendly smile. I smiled with intent of possible murder, dark and twisted smile that gave her friend a shudder.

Funny enough, I could stand for a minute or so until a figure I caught in my eye stood out, they were rushing and sweating, a boner in his pants as he disappeared in the alley across the road.

I lean down to my sunshine to excuse myself, she could only nod and hum timidly, fuck. How I could just fucked her in the car right here and there, but patience is virtue right?

Left and right, I look at passing motorcycles and cars as I made my way down the road. I rush a little, not wanting him to get out of my sight, I turn left and saw him went through that door. I took my gun out, held it firmly in between my fingers, my other hand on the knob—turning it and using my body to rush in.

It was dim, but not too dark.

“Hands up and on your fucking knees!” I said, wow. I sounded like a shitting police officer—I am not doing that again. And it fucking smells here, as if someone just got done emptying their balls.

Of course, fucking sickos.

I shot the ground, the sound ringing in every corner of this room. I see a girl whimpering from pain as a grown ass man was gripping the poor girls hair tightly, “let go of her,” I said, pointing and threatening to shoot.

He listens and the girl came running at me, “good boy,” I shot him. Right in the leg while covering the girls ear and hugging her tightly close to me, “fucker.” I curse and turn to the girl, I heard the man scream—calling a backup huh? I hear footsteps come running down, I put the girl outside and held her shoulder, “hey, little girl. Run and take a right, go to the lady that’s sitting on the flower shop. She’ll help you, and tell the guards that’s stand behind her that I need help. Can you do that?” I spoke in a soft warm tone.

She nodded and gave a quick hug, “thank you, mister.” She said, poor girl. “The big bad man hasn’t touch you nor harm you right?” I quickly asked, just to be sure because I’ll hurt him back. She nodded, “just pulled my hair..” she said and told her to go now, that was all I need to fucking know. I’m going to have fun fucking this bastards up.

“H-Hey!” someone shouted, holding a baseball bat, I turn when I’m assured that the girl finally ran and disappeared out of my sight—knowing that she’ll be safe in my sunshine’s arms and guidance.

Gun in hand, I smiled, “what’s up gentlemen?”

“Don’t get involve here, don’t think you know us!”

“But I do… Know you.” I point my gun to him, as I whisper those two words, that I know them. Although I plan on fucking them up later, I never thought I would have a last minute change of plan. How laughable.

I should make this quick, and I hope those guards hurry up or else I’m not giving their payment. Don’t want to worry my sunshine.

He started running after me as I quickly shot him in his knee perfectly, he yelled in pain, “what you all standing there?! Get him!” he yelled, I could only scoff at how weak they are. Not to mention they’re a little taller and intimidating than me, while I’m only a few inches shorter and a baby faced… I want to burst out and laugh at how pathetic their attempts are.

This is getting annoying, earlier I was having fun fucking them up but they keep on coming, not accepting defeat—how much I fucking wanted to put a bullet on their fucking shitty head. All of them on the ground, his team unconscious and knocked out cold, no I didn’t used force. Why is that? Because I knew she’ll call the cops, I’ll make sure to put a bullet in each of their head when they’re in prison.

I sigh and groan, mother fucker manage to stab me right on the abdomen. Taking deep breaths as I make my way to that pedophile that’s been with the poor girl, I crouch down and position my gun in his head, he whimper and cries—pleading for his life.

“Aren’t you the one who abuse your wife? Instead of pleasure, you bruise her and cause her great pain in intercourse, where you only think of your fucking dick.” I said, pushing my gun harder into his face till it bruises, “y-yes, yes! That’s me, if saying this would make you have mercy at me then I confess!” he said, I click my tongue, my finger threatening to pull the fucking trigger.

“Who said that I’m going to let you go?”

Bang—

“Sir! Sir!” one of my guards called, they entered the room—rushing and sweating, “you’re all late.” I said, they bow and apologize repeatedly, I stood up and held my stabbed abdomen. One of them went pale and starts to panic.

“I can still walk, no need to carry me.” I assure in advance, clothes bloody and filled with sweat. Each walk I softly groan until I finally see the light—my light. She was talking to the police and the girl was clinging to him. She’ll be a great mother, I knew that—why? She’ll b filled with my children and she’ll be the one carrying them for nine fucking months.

She noticed and went pale when she saw that I got hurt fighting off those pedophiles and abusers, the guards help me cross the road and sat me down to the chair.

The police were horrified on what they saw and immediately took action and went to the alley where I beat and knock them all up—well, except for that one man who I put a bullet in his head.

“Let’s take you to the nearest hospital, sir.” One of the officer said, inspecting my wound.

“It’s just a stab, it’ll be fine.” I sarcastically remarked and rolled my eyes, my gaze went to the girl and smiled at her. She started crying and flew into my arms, “hey there.”

She kept apologizing again and again, “It’s not your fault”

“but you got hurt.” She sniffs.

“if getting hurt means saving you, then I’ll do it over and over again.” I pat her head and turn to the police officer, “you know where her parents are?”

They nodded and said that they’ll be right here, rushing.

I look at her, her eyes filled with pity and anger. She’s so cute, I could burst and have her kneel to suck my dick. But I can’t, I’m injured too, maybe I could make her nurse me.

The thought made me smile a little wickedly.

Yeah, it’ll be fun.

So fun that I didn’t noticed the girls parents, they thanked me for saving their daughter and they waved goodbye—before leaving, the girl looked back at me once again before driving off to her home. Where she is finally safe and with her family.

“you look kinda familiar.” One of the medic said, I raise a brow and smiled at him. “Oh?” I snicker, “aren’t you a mafia?” my heart sank but I kept a straight smiling safe, “now that remark wound me, sir. How could I possibly a mafia?” I asked, sunshine is just beside me—piercing me with her stare.

“quit it, John. Can’t you see the poor man injured? Not to mention he saved a little girl and five abused women in that house.” One officer smack him at the back of his head, “sorry. I hope I didn’t offend.”

“none taken.” I smiled and look at sunshine.

“Are you mad?”

“fuck you.”

“love you too, sweetheart.”

Link:

Chapter 7: THE MOON

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Cardigan - Rafe Cameron Imagine

Word count: 4.5 k (Longest fic I've ever written!!!)

Warnings: Illusions to smut, a lot of angst and heartbreak, and swearing. 18+ only Minors DNI

The italics are flash backs, so I hope this isn't too confusing to read!

Vintage tee, brand new phone High heels on cobblestones When you are young, they assume you know nothing Sequined smile, black lipstick Sensual politics When you are young, they assume you know nothing

Life in outer banks was paradise, or at least it was supposed to be. Growing up, you had been blessed enough to be the rich side of the island and known as a kook. Your parents were pretty well off and you grew up next door to the Cameron’s. You had a good relationship with both of the kids, or you did anyways. You were never as high up on the popularity chain of politics at school as they were, but that didn’t keep you from fittings in with them.

Summer had just started; which meant that the first party of the year was creeping up that night. “What should I wear?” You were standing in your closet, eyes scanning the choices you had. You could wear an old band tee and a pair of jeans, or you could dress up a bit. But, that wasn’t really your style, it never had been. “Just wear your old nirvana tee, I love how that looks on you.” Your friends voice cemented your choice as you changed into the clothes, putting your makeup on. You were almost ready when you heard a gasp, your eyes lingering on your best friend as you waited for her to get on with the dramatics.

“Rafe is coming tonight.” The words hung in the air as you just clicked your tongue and tried not to think about what those words meant. “Do you still wanna go?” Reminders of the heart break the boy brought on filled your head as you swallowed thickly, thinking of if you wanted to deal with the feelings coming back. However, that slowly slipped out of your control as you skidded back into the recesses of your mind that had been taken up by the Cameron boy.

He ran a hand through his hair as he gnawed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t expecting you to act this way. “Come on, her and I were just having fun. You have no right to act like this.” His words infuriated you as you shook your head and laughed under your breath, of course he was that clueless. “Actually, I do. Fuck you. You can’t have us both like this.” And with that you stormed off, leaving him standing stunned and alone in the middle of the crowded party.

"(Y/N), come on. Do you still wanna go or not?" Your friend stood in front of you, her keys dangling off her finger as she tried to get your attention. You didn't realize you had zoned out until she snapped you out of it, an embarrassed blush taking over your face as you nodded. "Yeah, sure. I deserve to get out for a bit."

But I knew you Dancin' in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight, I I knew you Hand under my sweatshirt Baby, kiss it better, I

As soon as you agreed, your friend could be heard cheering and taking your hand. She pulled you down to her car and quickly got in, driving towards the party.

She drug you inside, the sounds of kids cheering and music that was way too loud immediately filled your ears. The smell of weed and alcohol was impossible to ignore as the two of you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink, the two of you leaning against the counter to people watch. You saw some of your old friends and went over to talk to them, laughing and smiling.

Time felt like it was flying as you enjoyed yourself, your body moving to the music with your friends. You hadn't felt this free in what felt like ever and it was a refreshing feeling. "Oh, shit. Excuse me." You felt someone run into you and you turned to look at who it was, meeting an all too familiar pair of steely blue eyes. Your mouth opened to say something before it closed again, your eyes now landing on the girl standing next to Rafe. Sofia, of course. You just gave a small, tight lipped smile as you saw a flash of sadness in the boys eyes.

You pretended to ignore it as you turned to your friends, telling them you would be right back. You walked outside and sat by the pool at the party, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you heard your name being called from behind you. Why did he have to be here? Why? Why why why? The questions kept piling up in your mind as you let yourself remember when everything was simple and easy; when you were the girl attached to his hip. When you were the girl he pulled along with him at parties and showed off.

“Rafe, come on.” Your words were drug out as you tried to pull the man up off the couch, his Levi’s feeling scratchy against your bare legs. He just sat back, an amused smile on his lips as he let you continue to try and pry him off the couch. “Come on, sweetheart. Gotta try harder than that.” The smugness in his voice was all but aggravating as you threw your arms over your chest, crossing them in frustration.

The boy in front of you finally took the hint and got up, his hands finding yours with one as his other slid around your waist. He held you close, humming softly as he spun you around the kitchen. The two of you were best friends, or were you more? You didn’t know. The two of you just always acted like this and no one asked anything about it and you never had any doubts. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned in.

Just before he kissed you, his phone started ringing and it caused the both of you to jump apart. “Hey, Top.” He put the phone up to his ear and listened to the other boy, nodding and glancing at you as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah, man. (Y/N) and I will be there.” He said goodbye and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Come to the bar with the guys and I.” You knew you didn’t have a choice, nodding as you ran to go change.

After the excitement of the night wore off you stood next to Rafe outside the bar, his arm thrown around your waist as he talked to Kelce. The alcohol was pumping through both of your veins, your eyes moving from the boy towering above you and the streetlight you were standing under. “Well, I gotta go. It was good to see you guys.” Kelce gave you a nod and a smile before he left, leaving you and Rafe to your own devices.

You leaned against the streetlight, a love drunk smile on your lips as you looked up at the boy who was now leaning against you. “What?” Your words were innocent and quiet as you felt Rafe’s hand slide up on your waist, his cold fingers on your waist as he leaned in to attach his lips to yours. He tasted like bourbon and cigarettes, the taste intoxicating as you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair.

That was the first time you guys kissed, but it definitely wasn’t the last.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favorite

“Rafe, do you wanna come home with me?” The girls words rang out in your head as you stood next to him at the party, a crushing feeling starting in the pit of your stomach and in your chest. You were right next to him. Didn’t she see you? Or did she just not care?

Your eyes ran over the girl, feeling a bit insecure. She clearly was higher up on the pyramid than your family when it came to money, her flashy jewelry and clothes making that obvious. She was pretty, very pretty in fact. But, Rafe didn’t seem bothered. He just shook her off and pulled you closer, smiling down at you as he leaned and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

You didn’t know what you were to Rafe. You didn’t know if the two of you were just best friends still, friends with benefits, or dating. You didn’t know. But, you knew he made you feel special. He made you feel important. “You’re all I ever need.”

A friend to all is a friend to none Chase two girls, lose the one When you are young, they assume you know nothing

Rafe was a player, you knew that from a best friend stand point and from the standpoint of just having a pair of eyes. He did not like to every commit to just one girl. "It's too boring." The conversation was one the two of you had a lot; especially when his hookups came whining to you about what was happening. It always slightly broke you, and you weren't sure if it was jealously or just seeing the sheer heartbreak these girls went through at the fingertips of someone you knew that well.

"I'm just playing the field until I find someone I want to really settle down with." His explanations always were an attempt at getting away with it. And for a while, you let them work. You would just apologize to the girls and go about your life. After all, you weren't his mom. You couldn't control him.

But, the game seemed to change once you got wrapped up in it. It didn't seem so fair anymore and guilt ate at your stomach; wondering who else was getting the same treatment you were. But, hey. He wouldn't do that to you, would he? Surely not.

But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends, I I knew you Your heartbeat on the High Line Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Rafe sung in the shower, that was a tid-bit that you knew that not many other people did. But, as you sat on his bed and listened to his voice carrying out of the bathroom, the angelic tone mixing with the falling of the water, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

You got to see all of his quirks that he hid from the world because they didn't seem to be manly enough. For instance, anytime he took medicine he almost always gagged and he didn't like the feeling of scratchy sweaters. He was human, but it often got lost in the perfection act that he had to put on for everyone.

But, as the water stopped you got a maniacal idea and decided to try and scare your beloved best friend. You scampered out of bed and went to hide behind the door to his bathroom, praying that he didn't accidentally slam it on you as he walked past. "(Y/N)?" His voice was softer now that he was out of the shower and it wasn't vibrating off the walls, his blue eyes scanning his room for you.

You stood in your place, hand over your mouth to hide your giggles. However, it was fruitless and soon you were being pulled into his tight chest. His arms wound around your waist as he twirled you around, both of your laughter filling the room. "Put me down! You're getting me soaked!" You instantly regretted the words as soon as Rafe let out a signature chuckle and winked at you, setting you down on the floor. Your bare feet felt soft against the hardwood floor as you landed softly, his eyes meeting yours. "Oh, I can show you soaked." And with that, you were shoving his chest away with a huff. "You're so perverted."

That was your friendship with him. It was everything good and innocent until it wasn't. "Come with me to the bar this weekend." After he had gotten dressed the two of you were now laying in his bed, your head in his lap as he scanned through text messages. His eyes would dart down to you every once in a while, his eyebrows raising in a half question and half statement as you considered it. "Maybe I want you to suffer without me." It was a joke, and you both knew it. But, it was fun to push his buttons. A scoff left his pretty lips before a pout overtook it, blue irises boring into your soul. "Oh, come on. You can't possibly leave me with Kelce and Topper. You know how much of a vibe killer they are."

The words elicited a laugh from your lips as you nodded in a shared understanding, though you had love for all three of the boys, Rafe wasn't wrong. The weekends were usually spent with Topper whining about Sarah and Kelce whining about the new girl who he struck out with. You really needed to give them some pointers, but it always fell on deaf ears. They never believed any of your tips. "I'll only go if you say please." You moved to sit up, looking at him with a raised brow as you put the ball in his court. "You know that word is like poison. You're evil." Your shoulders shrugged as you crossed your arms over your chest. You weren't kidding, and he knew it. "Fine. Please come with me oh lovely (Y/N). I will simply die without your presence." His dramatics made you laugh and nod as you leaned in to kiss his lips, taking solace in the warmth and giddiness they provided.

To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleedin'

The weekend came and you kept your promise of accompanying Rafe to the bar downtown with the boys. But, you hardly even paid attention to what was happening with the other two. You and Rafe were lost in your own little world, his lips almost always at the shell of your ear as he whispered drunk nothings into it.

"You make me so damn happy." The words caused goosebumps to run along your entire body, your eyes daring to peak up into his. His pupils were blown, no doubt the cause of the liquor that he had been drinking since you had walked into the packed bar. But, there was an ounce of truth there that was so raw and so Rafe. He could be tough, he could be scary, but around you he was raw and real. Or, so you thought.

"Any man would be incredibly lucky to have you." His words were beginning to slur as he pulled you into a kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. The kiss got deeper and more passionate, your hands tangling in his hair and yanking slightly. This was perfect. It was everything you ever needed. "Let's go out to your truck." Your words were breathy and quiet as he gave you a knowing smirk. He took your hand and told Kelce and Topper he would be back; which earned a whistle and a wink from the other two. "Use a condom! We don't need anymore of you two." Oh, Kelce. Always the PTA mom when it came to you.

You brushed the two of them off as you walked out to the truck and Rafe helped you inside, the kisses shared enough to make your head spin. "I've never done this before." The words were a quiet and shameful confession as the kisses got more heated and the lines between friends and more started to blur. "I got you. Don't worry." His words were whispered into your neck as you felt euphoria start to take over. You had never felt anything like what Rafe was showing you right now. "You're so beautiful."

That was the night that Rafe took everything from you and you willingly let it happen. You let the lines blur, you let the alcohol and the pleasure take over your every instinct that was yelling at you this was dangerous. You knew he was a player, but maybe he was changing. Maybe he would want more after this. Maybe. Maybe..

'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Boy, you could not have been more wrong. After Rafe took your virginity that night, it seemed as if something clicked in his brain that you guys went too far. He was more distant and unavailable.

That was until Sofia came to town and Rafe fell for her hook line and sinker. He met her at a party and lit up like a little kid on Christmas. You had been standing with him, his arm against your waist as he kept his eyes trained on her. She was moving to the beat in a way that you couldn’t, her eyes locking with Rafe’s. She motioned him over; your stomach dropping as he pushed off the wall and seemed to happily oblige to her request.

His body molded into hers immediately, his lips finding hers as they swayed to the tone of the music together. It was sickening for you to watch, bile rising up in your throat as you decided to walk outside. However, he called after you and pulled the new girl over. "(Y/N), wait!" His voice stopped you in your tracks as you gave a fake smile, looking at him expectantly. "This is my best friend, (Y/N). We’ve been best friends since we were practically in diapers." Best friend. The words stung as you recalled the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the feeling of his arms around you. How was that just something best friends did? You knew it wasn't and you all but held back a sob.

"It's so nice to meet you! I'm Sofia." She held her hand out for you and you took it, giving the most awkward hand shake you had ever given. You gave the best fake smile that you could muster up before you excused yourself to go back to your friends.

Throughout the night you could feel his eyes on you as you danced with other guys, having fun despite the circumstances. “What do you think you’re doing?” You heard the all too familiar voice behind you as he pressed a kiss to your neck, his arms snaking around your waist. “I’m dancing and having fun. Where’s Sofia?” The words had a bite to it that you weren’t expecting, but as Rafe’s hips stilled you could tell you caught him off guard.

He licked his lips and turned you towards him, his eyes locking on yours. “She left. What’s with the attitude?” His eyebrows went up and knitted together as he looked you over and tried to read you like a book. He knew you like the back of his hand, or so he thought. He could tell you were upset, but he didn’t realize it was with him. He thought you were just a little buzzed and the alcohol was making you act weird. But, unfortunately for him he was reading the words on the page wrong and it would come back to bite him in the ass. “You we’re just hanging all over her and now you’re here hanging all over me. Is this a joke to you?” Your words exposed your hurt as you glared at the boy that you knew better than anyone, his eyes flashing with confusion.

He ran a hand through his hair as he gnawed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t expecting you to act this way. “Come on, her and I were just having fun. You have no right to act like this.” His words infuriated you as you shook your head and laughed under your breath, of course he was that clueless. “Actually, I do. Fuck you. You can’t have us both like this.” And with that you stormed off, leaving him standing stunned and alone in the middle of the crowded party.

You left, sobbing as you shrunk down against your car outside. This was an absolute nightmare and it was affecting you deep to your core. This was a boy you’ve known for as long as you could remember. He was the one who wiped your tears when you fell. He was always there. "Friends forever." The words echoed in your head as you leaned your head back in frustration, cursing the words the two of you had sworn on as children.

That was the last time you had spoken to him, and now the wound was just as wide open as it was that day.

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time Chasin' shadows in the grocery line I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

The sounds of the party had faded into the distance as you sat outside, head in your hands. Everything felt like it was a bad dream and you prayed that you could wake up from it. You wished you and Rafe had never started to get physical because that was when things got confusing. That was when feelings erupted and burst through the surface on your end. But, what if things had worked out? What if he had felt the same way about you?

The feeling of his lips still haunted your memory, a ghastly reminder of the impact the boy had on your life and your body. He was in your life for so long and then he was just gone, a faint memory of good times etched into your memory. It was like the faint smell of fire after a kegger, it lingered on your clothes and in your hair until you washed it off. But, it still always felt like it was there.

"He's an idiot for doing that to you. He'll be back once he realizes what he's missing out on." The talk you had with Sarah was resonating in your mind as you stared up at the stars of the backyard, their twinkling bringing a small sense of comfort as you let out a breath you did not realize you were holding.

"Hey." You swore you were hallucinating his voice and you actually prayed that you were. You didn't want to face him. You didn't want to see his pretty eyes, or see his shit eating grin that could light up the entirety of a room in an instant. No, that was your kryponite. That was the absolute thing that could make you break no matter what else was going on in your life. But, as you turned around and saw that exact sight, you knew you were in trouble.

"Shouldn't you be inside with your new girlfriend?" The words were pointed like a spear and you hoped it would wound him and cut deep. But, you knew he would never outwardly show if you did. However, the clearing of his throat was enough to show that they had at least pierced through the surface. "She's not my- That isn't important right now." You rolled your eyes as you stood up, looking up at his towering figure in front of you.

"Really, Rafe? Because she seemed pretty damn important when you completely forgot about me for her." Your voice was rising and you felt tears prickling at the waterline of your eyes, the big droplets falling down your cheeks. He was only back because he was bored of Sofia, you knew it. That had to be it. "She was a damn distraction." He was getting stressed, he was rubbing the palms of his hands against his jeans in a way that he thought you wouldn't see. But, unfortunately for him you did. "A distraction from what?" You hated how you took the bait and you also hated how he was walking closer.

His movements were slow and cautious as his hand moved under your chin, tilting your head up to his. "You." The single word answer was not what you were expecting, confusion crossing your face as you tried to read his reaction. "I fucking fell for you and I was afraid of fucking it up." His voice was saying all the things you ever wanted to hear, and yet you couldn't take them at face value. He had taken your virginity and dipped. He had abandoned you. He had left, after everything he had told you. And, you weren't ready to forgive him. You didn't think you could do that yet.

You just chuckled and shook your head, taking a step back. "I chased the ghost of our friendship around a graveyard of memories for the last month, Rafe. I'm not ready to forgive you just because you come spewing words about falling for me. For all I know, it could be a lie." Your words were not what he was expecting, that was obvious by the look in his eyes.

"What can I do to make it up to you?" His words were almost laughable at the rate of desperation that they were bred out of. It was a scared look, it was a flashback to growing up together, it was the feeling in his chest whenever you were around. It was the happiness that your laugh brought him, the bottle of your perfume he always kept in his car, the clothes of yours he kept in his dresser drawer. It was everything, you were the sun and the moon and all the stars. You were the entirety of his universe and now you were pushing everything into a black hole because he fucked up. That, in itself was enough to feel like death to him and he hated the fact that he messed up this bad.

"I don't know, Rafe. I'll let you know if I ever figure it out. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a party to get back too." And with that he watched you walk away, your head high and proud and your tears no longer falling for the boy and what could have been. You knew this would be better. You knew you deserved more than feeling like second best. You deserved the world, and you weren't going to have it given to you on someone else's time.

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART I

Summary: When the conflict with a powerful family threatens to bring down the Shelby Clan, Tommy takes a trip to Italy. In order to stop the disaster, two families must become one: marriage seems to be the only way to seal an alliance and bring peace. It’s Nina Ferrante, fierce and rebellious, the one who slowly makes her way into his heart, with steps so light he doesn’t even realise it. But things are not as easy as they may seem: one, Tommy is expected to marry her cousin, and two - Nina has no intention of getting married.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), English is not my first language.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of my new series. This is set somewhere between season 1 and 2. At the end, you’ll find the translation of a couple of Italian expressions. Feedback is always appreciated🤍

SERIES MASTERLIST

SERIES MOODBOARD

Gif credit

Dividers credit

Tommy gazed out the window of the car, watching the landscape pass before his eyes. The small Sicilian village was so different from Birmingham. It was rural, peaceful, and the air was clean, he could fill his lungs without smelling the smoke and the shit. Beyond the uphill road, he could even hear the sound of the sea. Had he been in a different situation, he would’ve enjoyed that sound, along with the feeling of the sunlight on his face.

But he had to stay focused. Because he was alone, and the men in the car with him were speaking words he couldn’t understand. They could’ve easily taken him to an empty field and put a bullet in his head, and no one would’ve known. His hand went to the gun inside his coat, taking in the feeling of security brought by the contact of the cold metal against his skin.

Vincenzo Ferrante said something to the driver, then his eyes met Tommy’s through the rearview mirror. There was a strange glimpse in them, something that vaguely resembled amusement. He knew he had the upper hand.

A familiar tingling sensation crawled over the back of Tommy’s neck. It was the way of his body to tell him that danger was near, had started to get it in France, and it hadn’t left him since. His fingers forcefully pressed against the grip of the gun as his hold tightened for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he released it, his hand coming to rest on his lap. He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. He had a deal with those people, and it would go through.

One week earlier

Tommy walked into the betting shop, his steps resonating over the wooden floor as he strode among the desks in the empty room. Empty, except for his aunt, who was waiting for him behind the main table.

“Here’s the information I found.” He said, tossing a folder on the wooden surface. Polly furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing it so that she could examine its content. It was full of photographs, letters and documents. God knew how Tommy had managed to get his hands on them.

“Go on.” She mumbled.

“Antonio Ferrante has two brothers, Vincenzo and Mario. They came to England when they were children, and they were raised here. Twenty-five years ago, Vincenzo and Mario went back to Sicily to start their business, both legal and illegal, while Antonio stayed here to carry on their legal race tracking operation. Of course, his organisation also has two sides. Vincenzo moves between Italy and England to help him with the other side. He’s here now. He’s been helping him with the attacks.”

Three attacks. Three attacks in one week. Tommy had never seen something like that. Those Italians were sly and quick, and extremely organised. They started by blowing up two of the pubs under the Peaky Blinders’ protection, then they proceeded to find one of their warehouses, and they blew it up as well. It was a matter of time before they came for the Shelbys.

Polly sighed, putting the papers back into the folder. Just when everything seemed to be going in the right direction, another bomb was dropped upon them. Quite literally.

Tommy rubbed his eyes, taking his time before continuing. “Ferrante was cooperating with Kimber. Thanks to this alliance, the family had secured a place at the top of the betting business. By killing Billy Kimber…”

“We stepped on their toes.” Polly finished his sentence.

“And now they want revenge. Yesterday they took three of our men.” He sighed, leaning against the desk behind him. That was another thing he had to take care of. He had to write to their families, send his condolences, and open a fund for them so that they could manage to sustain themselves without their husbands, fathers and brothers to take the money home. It was unpleasant, but it had to be done.

“It’s the Italian Mafia we’re talking about.” Tommy spoke again. “They have an organisation of bigger dimensions. If Ferrante calls the rest of his relatives from Sicily, it’s over for us.”

“So what’s the plan?” She asked, taking a cigarette from the pocket of her apron before placing it between her lips.

“Antonio Ferrante only has sons,” He started to explain, taking a match to light his aunt’s cigarette. “But his brothers have daughters-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Polly’s head shot in his direction, eyes wide with disbelief as she could already imagine what he was trying to say.

“I’m talking about marriage, Polly. I’m going to marry one of the girls.”

Tommy couldn’t even believe his words as he said them. Before Grace, marriage had never crossed his mind, and after she left for New York, he was quite sure he would never find another woman. But there he was, selling himself so that his family could survive.

Despite the initial shock, Polly quickly regained her composure. She took a long drag from her cigarette, pondering her nephew’s words. “Why would they accept your offer?”

“Because by joining our forces, we can take down Sabini.”

“Do you think they’ll go against their own?” She inquired, a hint of scepticism in her voice.

“The Italians are fighting among themselves, now. Ferrante is also at war with Sabini, and he can’t defeat him on his own. Once Sabini’s taken care of, we’ll grant the Ferrante family a good place at the top of the business, even better than the one they occupied with Kimber.”

As much as Tommy tried to sound confident, he couldn’t hide his agitation. He couldn’t estimate the odds, there were no chances, no percentages. Everything felt unpredictable and beyond his control. He turned to grab the bottle of whiskey from the desk and poured himself a glass under Polly’s stare. It felt like she could read into him, like she could see right into his brain and know each one of his thoughts. It had always been like that, since he was a kid. It bothered him, sometimes, but deep down it was a relief to know that there was someone who could understand him without needing him to speak.

He downed all the whiskey in his glass, relishing the burning sensation. It grounded him, in some way. “Today I’m meeting Antonio and Vincenzo Ferrante.” He said, placing the glass on the table with a thud. “I’ll make the terms for peace.”

“How did it go?”

Tommy heard Polly’s question before he could see her. As soon as he entered the kitchen, he was met with her expectant eyes, her gaze scanning his face, looking for an answer. She poured him a glass of whiskey as he removed his coat and placed it on a chair.

“They accepted.” He just said, grabbing the glass. Polly’s expression relaxed for a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was swept away as she noticed how her nephew was avoiding her gaze.

She waited for him to continue, but her patience ran out quickly. “And?” She asked.

Tommy sat on a chair and took a sip of whiskey. “And I’m going to Sicily to meet my spouse.”

There was some kind of inflection in his voice, one that not even Polly was able to define. But there was also a small particular in what he had said, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re going to Sicily?” She inquired, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“Alone?” She emphasised, leaning with a hand on the table, not taking her eyes off of his face.

“Yes.” He repeated, keeping his eyes on the bottle in front of him, well aware of how dangerous and imprudent it sounded.

“Tommy, are you mad?” She yelled, yanking away the bottle so that he would look at her. He finally raised his eyes, and silence fell between them for a while as he tried to find the words.

“I need you here to take control of the business while I’m gone. You’re the only one who can do that.” He explained, standing up so that he could speak to her face to face. “And I can’t take John and Arthur with me, because there need to be Shelbys here in Small Heath.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” She spat.

Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders, the hint of a smile making its way on his face. “Think of it like this: if I don’t come back, all of this will be yours.” He pointed towards the door that opened on the betting shop. “You’ll make a good fortune.” He joked, trying to lighten the air.

However, his aunt didn’t seem amused. She just shook her head, a look of defeat in her eyes. “I could try and talk some sense into you, but you’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Without answering, Tommy walked past her to take ahold his glass and drink the rest of his whiskey. He cleared his throat, gathering himself as best as he could. “Vincenzo Ferrante is going back to his family in three days. I’m going with him.”

Present day

The car drew to a halt. Beyond an iron gate stretched a large garden, which was divided in two halves by a gravel path that led up to two big houses. As the driver got out of the car to open the gates, Tommy couldn’t help but feel relieved. No empty field. No ditch waiting for him.

“I guess you’re hungry, Mr. Shelby. It’s been a long journey.” Vincenzo Ferrante suddenly spoke, taking him away from his thoughts. Before Tommy could answer, he continued. “Later we’re having lunch, and I’ll introduce you to the family. Communication won’t be a problem, me and Mario raised all of our children to speak both English and Italian, just like Antonio. For the sake of business.” He clarified.

Tommy just nodded, unsure about what to say. He half expected to be dead before even getting to the village, so communication had been the last of his thoughts.

Not caring much about his silence, Vincenzo pointed towards the house on the left. “That’s my house, and the other is my brother’s. You’ll be my guest. Since we’re suggesting you to marry my niece Agnese, we thought it would be improper for you to stay in the same house as her.”

Agnese. She was said to be the oldest, and the prettiest, and the most fitted to be a wife. However, they had assured him that if he were to find someone more to his liking, he would be free to choose, he just had to make the decision before starting to court her. They wanted things to be done the proper way.

Tommy leaned back in his seat, the need for a cigarette suddenly kicking in. “It’s understandable.”

The brief ride towards the houses was silent. In that short amount of time, Tommy tried to guess what the following weeks had in store for him, how his life would look like in a month, but truth was, he really couldn’t tell. He had no idea, and that was terrifying, even for someone like him. But he had to stay calm, focused. He couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down.

When he got out of the car, he had to keep himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He was finally able to stretch his legs after being seated for what felt like ages. He thanked the driver who handed him his suitcase, then proceeded to take a look around. The two houses - even though they were separated from each other - formed some sort of angle. In the shared garden a long table had been set up, and from the numbers of chairs Tommy could tell that a great number of relatives would be joining them for lunch.

“Papà!”

A female voice echoed in the garden, and a raven-haired girl ran down the stairs that led to the front door of Vincenzo’s house. In a matter of seconds she was in the garden, and she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck.

“Ciao, amore di papà.” Ferrante said, taking her face in his hands to leave a tender kiss on her forehead. “Come stai?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly distracted by Tommy’s presence. A glimpse of confusion flickered across her dark eyes, then something really close to realisation seemed to hit her.

Ferrante took a step back, so that Tommy and that girl could be in front of each other. “Nina, this is Tommy Shelby. Mr. Shelby, this is Nina, my daughter.”

Tommy watched as she furrowed her brows, hesitating for a couple of seconds before holding out her hand. Her eyes, that a few seconds before were warm and full of affection for her father, were now cold and wary. And there was something defiant in the way she refused to be the first to break eye contact. It was something that Tommy wasn’t used to, he had grown accustomed to people lowering their heads in his presence, not daring to even look at him. This girl clearly knew who he was, and yet she refused to be intimidated. It was quite admirable.

Soon, Tommy realised that he had probably let his hand linger in hers for a bit too long. He let it fall to his side, clearing his throat. “Pleasure.”

“Nina, why don’t you show our guest his room?” Ferrante suggested, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “So you make yourself comfortable before lunch, Mr. Shelby.”

She said something in Italian, and even though Tommy couldn’t understand a single word, from the tone of her voice and her disgruntled expression he could tell that she was displeased. Nevertheless, a reproachful “Nina” uttered by her father, accompanied by a stern look, seemed to do the trick.

She glanced at Tommy one more time, before turning around and starting to walk towards the house. “Come with me.” She said, without worrying about whether he was following her or not.

Tightening his hold on the suitcase, Tommy started to walk behind her. If Nina’s cousin was half as hostile as her, he was truly fucked.

“Ciao, amore di papà”: “hi, darling” (literally - “hi, dad’s love”)

“Come stai?”: “how are you?”

NEXT PART

Tagging @zablife , cause I remember you asking me to tag you when this was out🤍

[cigarettecemetary]

Do I Wanna Know? -Matt Sturniolo Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Dealer!Matt x Bambi!Reader

Summary: Your friends and boyfriend want to go to a party, you’re not really a party person but they manage to convince you. After you witness something you rush out the room running into none other than Matthew Sturniolo. As time goes on you and Matt start to talk more, forming a very complicated relationship.

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of cheating, drug use, tension, doing things out of guilt

A/N: this part is gonna be better than my last I promise- Enjoy! With love and cigarette smoke, Moxxie<3

Thomas's Pov:

I stared deeply at the message from Paula.

"She's piecing things together Thomas. It's only a matter of time until she ends up finding out about us too."

I cursed under my breath as I took a drag from the blunt placed delicately between my fingers. If Y/N found out about anything between me and Paula it would NOT end well. Sure she seemed like a soft, sweet girl but deep down she's the toughest girl I knew. She'd for sure beat Paula's ass.

I glanced at my watch. My break was almost over. Hopefully Y/N wouldn't be bugging me about this or anything. I had a girl I needed to see tonight. I felt guilty, lying to Y/N about having to do overtime, but I needed to see this girl. She had all the answers to things I needed.

I put out my blunt quickly before heading back inside to finish my shift.

Your Pov:

Paula seemed off since the last thing we said to each other. The rest of the movie was silent aside from the munching of snacks and sipping from drinks. Did she know something I didn't?

I rose as the movie came to a close. "I should get going. I have to prepare dinner for Thomas when he gets home," I turned to Paula.

"Aw okay. Love you Y/N! See you whenever, you know you're always welcome." She smiled.

"Thanks Paula. I'll text you." I waved as I got into my car, driving home. As I arrived, I was greeted with the usual silence. I sighed deeply as I made my way to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Thomas's Pov:

I got into the uber, panting slightly. I wiped the sweat off my forehead as I gave the driver my address. I sprayed slight cologne to get rid of the scent of sex still lingering on my skin and seeping into my clothes.

I was exhausted. I prayed that either Y/N wasn't home or preparing dinner so I could shower. I glanced out the window as we pulled up. I felt a pang of guilt. I couldn't keep doing this to Y/N, she never did me wrong. Why was I doing this to her?

"Thanks. Here." I said, tossing the driver a wad of cash. I had no idea how much I gave him, but I didn't really care. I quickly noticed Y/n's car in the driveway, cursing silently. As I entered, I smelled food immediately and saw her in the kitchen, cooking. I celebrated in my head.

"Hey babe, I'm gonna go shower before we eat." I hurried up the stairs before she could protest or approach me, getting into the shower.

Your Pov:

I sat in the kitchen, preparing some dumplings to go with the orange chicken and the fried rice that was cooking when Thomas got home.

"Hey babe, I'm gonna go shower before we eat." He said.

I turned to respond but he was already gone. No hug or kiss? I frowned. Usually he would hug or kiss me before doing anything else when he got home. I went to turn back to the food when a familiar aroma hit my senses.

His usual cologne but with a hint of... sex? I started to panic, my mind racing with possibilities.

Was he cheating? With who? No he wouldn't cheat again, not after that night, I made him promise. It's just sweat Y/N, it's fine.

I blocked the thoughts out of my head before turning back to the food. I was just being paranoid like usual. Everything was fine.

I heard his footsteps scurrying downstairs as I prepared the plates.

"Woah Y/N... This smells amazing! You really outdid yourself this time!"

His praise hit my ears like a truck. I couldn't help but smile. He hadn't praised my cooking in a long time.

"Thank you baby. Let's eat."

We ate in silence, but he wasn't on his phone like usual. He seemed to be really indulged in the food I made. It was... nice.

"So... I was thinking. Since I'm off tomorrow, we could go out?" I looked up at Thomas in shock. He usually never asked to go out, or even wanted to with me.

"Oh um... sure! What frat brother's party is it this time?" I asked. Thomas shook his head.

"No not a frat party my love... A date. Just us two." He looked up at me smiling. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks.

"Y-yes I'd love to."

"Perfect, I'll make reservations. Dress nice and pretty okay?" He half-joked, his smile widening. I nodded as I got up to wash the dishes, smiling at the idea of my date, not knowing what events were to unfold.

A/N: this part is def better than my last... and longer. Next part has a heavy drug warning, so be aware of that! I hope you enjoyed<3

[foggydreamsstuff]

So this is the first chapter in *hopefully* a series! Let me know what you all think!

**To Love in Silence**

{Matt Murdock × Gender neutral reader}

{Slow-burn/angst to comfort/ miscommunication/a slight pregnancy trope. Karen × Foggy}

The fog clung to Hell’s Kitchen like a heavy coat, weighing the city down with the kind of damp chill that seeped into your bones. It was a suffocating mix of gasoline, rain, and something uniquely New York—garbage left too long in the summer heat, mingling with the faint, greasy scent of food vendors hustling to make a buck. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was home, in the way that Hell’s Kitchen was always home. It was rough around the edges, a place that constantly smelled like it was on the verge of either decay or rebirth.

Josie’s Bar was a testament to that. It was the kind of dive that hadn’t seen a proper cleaning in years, where the dim lights buzzed faintly overhead and everything seemed to be coated in a thin layer of cigarette smoke, even though smoking hadn’t been allowed in years. The booths were sticky, the red leather cracked and worn from years of use, and if you leaned back too far, you’d catch a whiff of something sour, like spilled beer that had soaked into the wood and never quite dried. The floors, perpetually grimy, clung to the soles of your shoes, and every step felt like a battle against the faint but ever-present stick of spilled liquor.

It was noisy, too—an endless hum of conversation underscored by the clink of glasses, the dull thud of pool balls colliding, and the occasional burst of laughter from the back corner where a group of regulars always seemed to be locked in an eternal argument. The jukebox played half-forgotten rock songs, muffled and distorted, as if the music itself was too tired to put up a fight against the constant chatter. Every sound echoed in the tight space, bouncing off the stained walls and low ceiling, creating a cacophony that somehow felt familiar, comforting even.

Foggy slid into the booth across from me, his usual smile in place but not quite reaching his eyes. He smelled like he always did—like cheap aftershave, something bright and sharp that clung to him even after a long day in court. There was a hint of fabric softener, too, a faint clean scent that contrasted with the mustiness of the bar, but underneath that was the smell of sweat and city grime, of long hours spent hustling through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. He looked tired, like all of us, his tie loosened and his hair slightly mussed from where he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

“You look like you could use a drink,” he said, flagging down Josie with a wave. I watched her shuffle over, wiping her hands on a dirty rag before slamming two beers down on the table. The glasses were slick with condensation, leaving damp rings on the worn wood.

“I could use a lot of things,” I muttered, staring into the foam as if it held answers I couldn’t find anywhere else.

Foggy leaned back, the leather squeaking under his weight. “What’s eating at you?”

“It’s Matt,” I said, unable to keep the frustration from bleeding into my voice. “He’s… different. Distant. I feel like I’m losing him.”

Foggy nodded, his expression darkening as he took a long sip of his beer. “He’s got a lot going on,” he said, but the words felt hollow, like he was tired of saying them. He smelled faintly of the cheeseburger he’d inhaled on the way over, greasy and comforting, mingling with the stale air of the bar.

“I just don’t understand,” I said, picking at the label on my bottle, my fingers sticky with beer residue. “He used to tell us everything.”

“Used to,” Foggy echoed, his eyes drifting to the empty spot beside me. “Matt’s always been good at keeping secrets, but lately… I don’t know. I don’t think even he knows what he’s doing.”

I glanced at the TV above the bar, where Wilson Fisk’s face loomed larger than life. The screen flickered, showing scenes of destruction—burned-out cars, crime scene tape flapping in the wind, cops huddled together like they were preparing for war. Fisk’s name was everywhere, a dark cloud that hung over the city, and behind it all, whispers of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen—the masked vigilante who’d been tearing through the crime rings, leaving chaos in his wake.

“You ever wonder who that guy is?” I asked, nodding toward the screen. “The Devil?”

Foggy followed my gaze, his brow furrowing. “Sometimes,” he said, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. “He’s out there every night, taking on Fisk’s men like he’s got nothing left to lose. You gotta be a special kind of messed up to do that.”

I thought about Matt then, about the bruises and the bandages, the way he winced when he thought no one was looking. There was a smell to him when he was hurt—like copper and antiseptic, sharp and medicinal. On his good days, though, he smelled clean, like the cedarwood soap he favored, mingling with the faintest hint of coffee and old books, something warm and familiar. It was a comforting scent, but lately, even that had been tinged with something darker, like smoke and sweat, as if he was constantly fighting battles I couldn’t see.

“Do you think…,” I started, but the thought died on my tongue. I couldn’t bring myself to say it, to voice the suspicion that had been clawing at my mind for weeks. That maybe Matt knew more about the Devil than he let on. That maybe he was closer to the danger than any of us realized.

“Do I think what?” Foggy asked, giving me a curious look.

“Nothing,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just… nothing.”

But the doubt lingered, festering in the back of my mind as the night wore on.

It was late when I finally got home, the city quieting down to the dull roar of distant sirens and the occasional shout from a street corner. I fumbled with my keys, my fingers numb from the cold, and stepped inside my apartment, greeted by the faint, musty scent of old wood and the slightly metallic tang of the radiator that never quite worked right.

I had barely kicked off my shoes when I heard a knock—a soft, hesitant tap that sent my heart lurching. I opened the door, and there he was, leaning against the frame, looking every bit as battered as I felt. His suit was rumpled, the collar of his shirt stained with something that looked suspiciously like blood, and his hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles like he’d been running his hands through it all night.

“Matt,” I said, the surprise evident in my voice. He smelled like rain and the faint, acrid scent of city air, layered with something distinctly him—cedar, sweat, and a trace of something metallic and sharp. My throat tightened at the sight of him, all messy and undone, like he’d been fighting shadows I couldn’t see.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough around the edges, like he’d been shouting over the noise of the world. “Can I come in?”

I stepped aside, and he brushed past me, his movements stiff and unsteady. I could smell the sweat on him, mingling with the faintest hint of blood, though he tried to hide it beneath a weak smile. He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, and for a long moment, we sat in silence, the air between us thick with everything we didn’t know how to say.

“You look awful,” I said, half-joking, trying to cut through the tension. But it was true. Up close, I could see the bruises blooming along his jaw, the cuts that hadn’t been there last week. He smelled like pain, like antiseptic and bandages, and something else—something darker, like smoke and gunpowder.

“Long day,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You’re never a bother, Matt,” I said, though the words felt fragile, like they might shatter if I looked at them too closely. I moved closer, hesitating before reaching out to touch his shoulder. He flinched, just barely, and I drew back, my hand hovering between us. “What’s going on with you? I feel like you’re a million miles away.”

He didn’t answer right away, his head dropping into his hands. I could hear his breathing, ragged and uneven, and the faintest catch of something like a sob caught in his throat. It was the first time I’d seen him this vulnerable, this… lost. And it scared me, more than I was willing to admit.

“It’s Fisk,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s getting worse, and I… I can’t fix it. Not the way I want to.”

“Matt,” I said softly, trying to catch his gaze. But he was somewhere else, staring through me like he was seeing ghosts. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The way he wanted to. The words hung heavy, loaded with all the secrets he was too afraid to share. I watched him, the faint tremble in his hands, the way his shoulders hunched like he was trying to hold the world together on his own. And maybe he was.

He lifted his head, and for a split second, I saw something break in him, something raw and real and utterly heartbreaking. He smelled like rain, sweat, and exhaustion—like a man who’d been running from someone, or something..

[d4rkh0ney]

A snippet of the 3rd chapter of Antinomy, a Rose Wilson X Jason Todd fanfiction by me :)

----

What the fuck, Rosie? You got shot?”

She was so pale now, both from her head wound and her gunshot wound (!) which he hadn’t seen because he was fucking distracted. He had seen it though: The woman who opened the door shot her as the fire started. He committed her face to his memory. Yet he didn’t know what to do, he wanted to leave Rose there. But as he was about to leave, maybe call somebody to check on her later or something, he saw her lay on her back like a starfish and look up to the sky.

“No one calls me Rosie…” she mumbled. It was barely a whisper and her voice sounded wet.

She just laid there. He stood looking at her.

This night just kept getting better.

-----

“Hey, Jason.”

She announced as if to let them both know. No one had called him by his name in months. She hadn’t called him that in 3 years.

“Hey, Rose.”

He didn’t know what to say. He stood in front of her feeling more naked than he had ever felt. His leather jacket was in a pile by his feet and he still had his black shirt on, but naked nonetheless.

“You died.”

“I did.”

“Hmm…” she put the mask aside. She took a deep breath and collected herself but her eyes never let his. As much as he wanted to, he did not avert them. She dropped her feet to the side and jumped down.

“Not to be a dick, but why the fuck are you standing in front of me?”

“I…came back,” he stammered. The silent alarms going batshit (!) in his head paralyzed him. He could not take his eyes away from her. Why the fuck was he paralyzed twice in a day?

She looked for something in his face. She looked from one eye to the other. She took a tentative step towards him. He felt the sink behind him and his hands gripped his sides.

Then she slapped him across the face.

“I probably deserved it,” he replied rubbing his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you fucking idiot?” she asked.

“When? I haven’t been here that long.”

“I mean when you first saw me, Jason,” she said very prominent “duh” tone.

“I…”

“You weren’t going to. You weren’t going to tell me.” She looked really offended by this statement. Jason didn’t understand what was so weird about it.

“No, I wasn’t going to,” he confessed. She looked at him weirdly. “How did you figure it out anyway?” he asked. “You called me, by my name I mean. On the bike.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh you know,” she started to list with her fingers, “You called me by my name and by a name no one ever calls me even though supposedly we had never met, you moved forceful and eager like a certain Birdboy I knew, like you were in a hurry as a default setting you know, and…” She got really close to his face as if giving him a huge secret, “I thought you smelled familiar,” she whispered.

----

“Am I gonna see you again?” she asked suddenly. She was hugging herself. Jason felt… Uncomfortable about it. Not that she was making him uncomfortable (though she was, she always did, all the time) but that he wanted to… He could hug her. He hadn’t hugged anyone… He hadn’t felt the feeling of someone’s body against him without immediate danger for the second time since he died. Not that he wanted to, but theoretically, he could. She did say they were friends.

“Why would you want to?” he replied instead.

“Because I was fucking sad when you died, Jason!” She squeezed herself tighter. Her eyes looked really heavy. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Eddie died before you, did you know? Like, a week before you? And then you died and I…”

Jason didn’t know how to reply. He hadn’t thought he’d have to console anyone about his death. They don’t teach you that when you’re learning to talk.

“I’m sorry about the last time we met,” she said finally.

“I’m sorry too,” he whispered back. A car whizzed by and the whole flat went dark for a second before turning orange again.

“I’m going to leave Gotham,” she declared. He was taken aback. He wasn’t expecting that. “So it was great to see you again, before I go.”

He couldn’t stop himself from asking: “Where are you going?”

“I… I got accepted to a college in Metropolis,” she replied tentatively. “I’m gonna study Kinesiology.”

Jason’s heart sank so deep he thought he’d shit it out his ass. Not because she was leaving or because she was moving away, but because she was attempting to get out of this life.

Jason knew jealousy. He had always been jealous of Dick. How good of a Robin he was; how much he loved, revered and trusted him; how it all seemed so much easier for him… This wasn’t exactly jealousy he felt. Instead, he felt a euphoric joy for her. But he also felt such a deep feeling of mourning for himself.

“I’m gonna kill Batman,” he replied.

She turned to him, he faced her. The orange light illuminated her hair as if she were on fire.

As if not to scare an animal, her hands wrapped around his shoulders as she tiptoed and slowly, very, very slowly, hugged him.

Jason didn’t know where to put his hands. He just stood there. He dropped his arms to his side.

“Welcome… back,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

When she didn’t let go, he slowly brought his arms up and hugged her back. His arms wrapped around her waist, careful not to hurt her. He un-leaned off the counter and she hugged him tighter. He did the same.

For however long they stayed like that, he couldn’t tell. She smelled the same too.

[peaky-shelby]

Your Mark | Bellingham [2]

Request: This is a request for Bellingham please. I hope it's okay that I asked for my own line. "We were good together right. It wasn't all in my head."

« read part 1

Pairing: Bellingham x reader

Writer's note: VERYYY short but i wanted to finish this one with a happy ending and it's been sitting on my drafts for a while.

Taglist: @1-800anklebully @funrabbit @maispace @suzysface @mrs-bellingham

It was raining and it was freezing. I had my hands hidden in my pockets, jumping up and down just to try to keep myelf warm while I waited for my boyfriend outside of his training campus. He said he’d only be 5 minutes. It had been 15 so far and i wished I had taken his car keys so I could at least wait for him there. All my shelter for now was the tiny kiosk over the entrance, while I watched puddles and rivers being created by the tough rain. The door swung open and I turned my body, waiting to finally see him but the figure coming out was taller, different. He had his eyes on his phone, it lighted his face. Bellingham. For some reason, seeing him made me feel better. He noticed me, his eyes widening.

“What the bloody hell you out here for?” I didn’t answer, just shrugged my shoulders, sniffing back the cold. “oh bloody mother-“ he shook his head, figuring out the answer by himself. “his ma never taught him to not leave a woman waiting?”

“He probably got up with something-“

“its bloody raining.” He topped my voice. Like it was obvious I shouldn’t be defending him. His eyes softened quickly when I made a step back, looking way. I heard him unzipping his rainproof jacket, my gaze returning to him in seconds as he used it to cover my body. I tried to shake it away but he wouldn’t bother. I searched for his eyes while he pulled the zipper up, his all too familiar warmth sticking on my body. He looked at me, letting out a heavy breath that carried heavy curses he wasn’t going to say to my face. “come with me.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not letting you stay here. We’ll wait in my car. Come on.”

“Jude please—”

“don’t make me carry you in the rain.” His hand found my arm pulling me away from the safety of the kiosk. The two of us running at his car on the parking lot. He unlocked it and I hid myself inside quickly. I could smell him all over, I could smell the memories too. Long drives going nowhere, music loud, windows down, screaming on top of our lungs to lyrics of our favorite songs. I was so tempted to click on the radio, put the music on, muscle memory never disappears I guess because my finger almost reached for it. He took hold of my hand, reached for my other on too, grasping them together. He rubbed them and breathed on our hands, his eyes staring into mine the whole time. And I felt so small under his watch, all the muscles in body weakening, my head lowering to his. He didn’t move away even then, kissed my hands.

“He’s a twat.” He whispered, his lips moving against my skin.

“he’s trying.”

“He’s failing.”

“So did i.” I said it before I could stop myself. He moved my hands away from his lips. Looking at me more seriously now. “sometimes people fail at loving the ones they love. I mean we both did, didn’t we?” I slid my hands out of his grasp, placing them on my feet and looking forwards while rain replaced what would ones be an Ed Sheeran song, echoing in between us.

It made me tremble, how his finger reached for my loose wet her, pushing them behind my ear. I closed my eyes, sinking deeper on my seat, leaning on his touch because if I were to be honest. I could still taste his lips on mine and I had been craving that taste since then.

“what If we tried again?” His question came as a shock, it felt heavy on my shoulders and my eyes shot open to look at him. Go make sure he wasn’t laughing. “We both did mistakes but bloody hell every time I see you with him, I’m losing my mind. Don’t look at me like that, please—“ he brought his face closer to mine, his lips ghosting over mine, thousands promises hanging from his tongue.

All I could master to ask was “why?” my voice coming out more broken than I thought it would. I punched his chest, trying to remind him the pain that I had I caused him. “why would you forgive me?”

“you think I can’t see the only reason you’re still with him Is because you’re punishing yourself—”

“that’s not true—”

“You can’t lie to me. We see through everything, you told me that. Remember? You knew when I fucked up—you saw it in my eyes, same way I see it in yours.”

“see what Jude?”

He hesitated, his hand crawling behind my neck to pull me closer “you don’t love him, you never did—” I stared at his lips, good god how much I wanted to kiss them “you never look at him, the way you look at me. And I’ll never be able to look at another woman the way I look at you.”

“what makes you think it will end any differently?”

“cause we want it to” he said but it was more of a question than answer. “Don’t we?”

I stroked his face, remembering all the lines that used to be mine, all the features that were ones imprinted in the back of my head. Not seconds later, his lips were slammed on mine, giving me back the taste of summers in the beach under the sunset, the taste of midnights in his bed, the taste of winter nights next in the fireplace, reading novels and listening to the woods tremble. His hand messaged my skin and bones while pulling me closer. His lips travelling on my cheek and then down on my neck, biting me slightly like he was re-marking his area. And all I could think through the storm was that this was home.

[ravenclawwitchc]

Normal People

*Happy New Year!

*a family bonding story

I took off to Beika like a fugitive, hastily launching without even getting fully dressed. The moment I touched down, the cold Beika air hit me. That chill snapped my soul back from its tropical island drift. Luckily, my grandmother, who came to pick me up, had brought a thick coat. When I asked about it, I learned that my grandfather, lying in his sickbed, had foreseen my wanderings and thoughtfully worried about me. Before putting on the padded jacket, I peeled off my loose-knit sweater. Grandma took it from me, examined it closely, and laughed, asking why I was still hanging onto the sweater she had knit for my mom so many years ago.

For an old woman, her body could be called robust.

I was still pondering whether her reassurances about her health during the small talk were just politeness – considering the Japanese cultural nuances and the estrangement of several years could easily create a facade of false dialogue. However, in the blink of an eye, she effortlessly heaved my massive suitcase into the trunk, making it look like a breeze.

The last time I visited Beika, I was just entering adolescence, a troublesome thirteen-year-old.

At that time, my grandparents were already retired, and they used to take me around Beika, riding roller coasters at Tropical Land and overlooking the Park from the Tokyo Tower. During the summer break, we happened to catch the summer festival, and it was my grandma who picked out the yukata I wore to watch the fireworks – a yukata with a ripple pattern of plum blossoms. I couldn't tie the obi of the yukata properly, so she stood in front of me, skillfully creating a bow shape with her warm fingers. That was the first time I felt a sense of familiarity with her, and I couldn't help but shed tears before leaving.

"Did you come back because of your grandpa?" Grandma asked as she drove.

Beika had just experienced snowfall, and the snow on the asphalt had been shoveled to the sides, forming towering snowbanks. The air in the wind was sharp, and the biting cold seemed to penetrate the car. I wondered if it was just my inner perception. The smell was my first clue to recognize Beika – the refreshing scent of Ramune Soda, the lingering smell of fireworks – all summer imprints. In contrast, winter in Beika felt like an unfamiliar rejection, making both the residents and the messages they conveyed seem unfamiliar.

"Yeah, but I had planned to come to Tokyo for an exchange next semester anyway, just a bit earlier, nothing much," I replied.

After hesitating for a while, I asked her if my grandpa was okay and took the opportunity to explain why my mom couldn't make it.

Grandma didn't look at me; she stared straight ahead at the road, as if there was something at the end of it. Her brow was furrowed, quite different from the always-smiling middle-aged woman in my memory – not just because of the passage of time. I feared her current expression might be the prelude to tears, and I dreaded hearing bad news about my grandpa. Clutching the tissues in my bag, ready to pull them out, I finally gathered the courage to ask again, and she replied, "Don't worry, it's not a big deal. If you're concerned, come with me to the hospital tomorrow to see him."

Before leaving, I asked my mom if she wanted to come.

I used Messenger for the inquiry, as international texts and calls were expensive, and messaging seemed more convenient and swift. There was an alternative possibility – I wasn't particularly keen on talking to her on the phone, and she probably sensed that. Yet, we both pretended as if everything was normal, skirting around the issue of our strained family dynamics. The last argument occurred when I wanted to go on an exchange to Tokyo University. The time before that was when I disregarded her advice and dated an Afro-Asian boyfriend – now an ex. But this didn't stop her from using stern words when she found out.

I also sent her Japanese news links, carefully choosing ones that weren't too sensational. However, the headlines in the links still sounded alarming with phrases like "seeking revenge" and "extremely vicious." The news images were pixelated, but one could vaguely make out people lying on the ground and blood spilled around. Mom read the messages but didn't reply. In the end, I called her. No answer. I didn't even have her new boyfriend's contact information. So, I tentatively emailed Mouri Law Firm, not expecting a response, but surprisingly, someone replied. And that's how I ended up flying over alone, in a rush, bringing only clothes, medicine, and my laptop. I forgot items like a comb and makeup – things my grandma had already prepared.

Grandma's house is a three-story building that seems to have been recently renovated. When I visited before, it had low Japanese-style tables where we knelt to eat. Now, it has been transformed into a Western-style dining setup with comfortable wooden chairs. According to my grandma, they replaced many components, including adding non-slip facilities and assistive devices in the bathroom. A savory aroma filled the room, and on the cutting board were scattered half-cut vegetables, fish, and tofu. Glancing at her watch, Grandma told me that her timing was just right, and the potato stew with pork ribs was almost ready to be served.

This marked my first meal back in Beika.

What gave me a bit of relief was that my grandpa seemed to be doing okay. Grandma mentioned that my perception of "okay" might be due to not comparing him to how he was before the surgery, let alone using Kudo Shinichi from even earlier as a reference.

The ICU at Beika Central Hospital had snatched him back from the clutches of death. Now he was recovering in a single-patient room, with only two hours of visiting time allowed each day. On this point, Grandpa expressed a different opinion, attributing his survival to the "goddess of luck." As he said this, he looked at my grandma, who silenced him with a disapproving gaze. I sensed there was something I didn't fully understand in their exchange.

Regarding the attack, he spoke about it casually, mentioning it was simply a matter of a former suspect he once investigated seeking revenge after being released from prison. Death sentences are rare in Japan, so it's not uncommon for the perpetrator to consider him prey years later. He had mentally prepared himself for this possibility. However, he emphasized that if anything were to happen, it would be best not to involve his family, including me. His tone grew solemn here, and a certain aged expression appeared on his face. Before this, I would have described him as cheerful and indomitable.

Of course, he said this while my grandma was out. When she returned to the hospital room, he changed his tune, mentioning that the situation was unexpected, and that he would take precautions in the future. As for the details of these precautions, he evaded the topic. Grandma advised him to rest more, not to overthink, and to discuss these matters later. It was clear from her expression that she knew what he had just told me.

"If it weren't for... in the past, I could easily block a slow knife like that," Grandma said as she was cooking at home in the evening, adding butter. "But Shinichi's legs are not what they used to be either."

I initially joined her out of courtesy, not wanting the elderly to work alone in the kitchen. However, her discussion of food philosophy was so exquisite that it pulled my wandering thoughts away from my studies, the grandfather in the hospital, and the unanswered messages from my mom. The conversation gradually extended to those who weren't present. I took the whipped cream she prepared and, under her guidance, added low-gluten flour and eggs to the plate, then started stirring. My hands remembered before my mind did.

"Are we making lemon pie?"

"You remember? I used to make it for you."

"Oh, ... my mom taught me before."

The memories connected through food were more distant than I had imagined. It was an image of me, who now often ate alone while watching Netflix, almost forgetting. The lights, the kitchen, the child teetering on a chair, and the mom deftly grabbing the knife – no one else, no other sounds.

"Is your mom doing okay now?" she finally asked.

"She... has a new job and a new boyfriend," I replied, not wanting to delve into details. One reason was that I wasn't sure if this fell under my mom's privacy, and the other was that we had grown distant in the past few months. Discussing topics like "privacy" and "distance" with my grandma felt a bit odd, after all, it was her daughter – a daughter she didn't often see. "By the way, you're still keeping that bedroom on the third floor for Mom. It's a pity she can't come back to stay."

"That child... she won't want to come back to Beika."

Grandma turned on the tap, washing her hands back and forth. "You two had an argument about you coming to study in Beika, didn't you?" Seeing my expression, she smiled gently and added mischievously, "It seems I've picked up some detective skills after all."

Despite her playful words, Grandma's expression still seemed a bit tense.

"Has she ever talked to you about the past?"

"The past?"

"Guess not... Well, you have to protect your mom's privacy, and I have to protect my daughter's privacy too," she laughed. "If there's a chance later on, let her tell you herself."

While it's true that Mom hadn't talked much about the past with me, it didn't mean I was completely unaware.

Occasionally, she would mention my grandpa and grandma, her tone complex. Sometimes, I would catch her flipping through her own photo albums. When I was a child, I played with her iPad once and found a long string of search records for "Kudo Shinichi" and "Mouri Ran." These names were unfamiliar to me, so I clicked on them, reading stories that seemed like something out of a novel – a person capable of everything, solving injustices and fighting evil. At that time, I didn't know they were my grandparents. I asked my mom if she knew these two people while holding the iPad, and she then told me they were her parents.

On the second night in Beika, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, trying to recall any hints my mom might have dropped about the past, attempting to piece together what happened. However, what lingered in my mind were my grandma's seemingly carefree attitude, my grandpa's attempts to be strong in front of her, and my mom staring blankly at photos. A family that was difficult to understand.

Unable to sleep, I walked to the window and opened the curtains slightly. It was snowing. The street lamps cast a yellowish halo on the pure white snow. Beika had gradually shifted from the central area due to Tokyo's development over the years, and this area with its old buildings was especially quiet, occasionally interrupted by the sound of cars speeding by.

I took out my phone and looked at the album I had secretly taken of my mom. The first picture showed a young and handsome couple holding a baby, smiling together. The second one captured them frantically trying to calm down a crying baby – the look of anxiety written on the faces of the new parents. It was evident that the person behind the camera must have burst into laughter, as the second image was slightly blurry.

My mom and grandma looked very similar. The first time I saw them, I almost thought it was a picture of my parents.

The events that unfolded the next day proved my grandma's reasoning error, particularly the notion that "she won't want to come back to Beika." Mom came back.

My mom is a very meticulous person, someone who dresses neatly and immaculately even at parent-teacher meetings. It seems like she perpetually carries a part of Japan or Beika with her – it's not that she won't return; it belongs to her. She is also very strict with me, down to specifying the exact times I can't eat ice cream. So, I eventually learned to buy two cones – one for myself and one to shut her up when she started lecturing me. My cunning side is probably something Grandpa would appreciate. However, some matters are not negotiable, unlike ice cream. For example, my desire to come to Beika – or rather, my intention to settle down here – was an absolute mistake from the beginning.

So when I saw her in the hospital room, I was genuinely surprised. She looked a bit disheveled, and that's when I realized the inheritance of our hair – if not carefully maintained, it would defy gravity and stand tall, a trait shared between me, my mom, and my grandma.

Grandpa lying in the hospital bed, seemed more lively than the day before, clearly not anticipating his daughter's arrival.

I could deduce that she arrived in a hurry, perhaps having bought a ticket as soon as she read my message, taking an overnight flight. Seeing Grandpa looking seemingly fine, she wore a face that expressed both relief and slight annoyance. When I arrived, she had just finished talking with my grandpa, and it was clear she still remembered that the man in front of her was now a patient, so she tried to keep the atmosphere at a warm level.

She asked Grandpa, "Is the culprit caught this time?"

Grandma answered, "He's been detained, going through the legal process. This time, it's your father's disciple who's handling the case..."

She glanced at Grandma and said seriously, "This time, you were lucky. What about the next time? Do you plan to keep relying on luck to survive?" Her tone softened, "Is it really that bad for you to live outside Japan with me?"

I started feeling awkward and quietly slipped out, opening the door. The hospital corridor twisted, with people waiting to visit Kudo Shinichi holding gifts not far away. The windows were clear, reflecting the falling snow outside. After a while, Mom came out. There were tears on her face. She wordlessly grabbed my hand, gripping it tightly. Grandma followed, calling her name.

"If I won't take her away, how will you protect her?" Mom turned back, sadness in her eyes. "What if those people want to kidnap her, like they did back then..."

Grandma held my mom's hand, leading her back into the hospital room, as if guiding a child.

I stood there in confusion, with red marks on my wrist from my mom's overly strong grip.

The pie crust for the lemon tart can be refrigerated for an hour or more after being kneaded into dough. It can even stay for a day, with the maximum duration being a month. I took the crust out of the fridge, preparing to press it into the mold, and then put it in the oven for a bit. Grandma was next to me, making lemon custard and squeezing juice from the green lemons. Her hands were steady, and she handled the knife with expertise. I encountered danger during the summer; Beika had an unexpectedly high crime rate. It might be the mutual attraction between detectives, lawyers, and criminals. At that time, my grandpa spoke calmly, intertwining his hands and supporting his chin, presenting his deductions, while my grandma swiftly ended the criminal's counterattack with a spinning kick, appearing smooth and agile.

"About your mom's situation..." she hesitated this time.

"I'll hear it directly from her," I interrupted her, feeling that a serious family discussion required my mom's presence. "She messaged me, and we plan to meet tomorrow. So, why don't we talk about your past instead?"

My mom's "past events" might have some similarities with what my grandpa was currently facing. However, rather than delving into those matters tonight, I would prefer a cozier atmosphere and save the family affairs for later.

"I once read news reports about you and grandfather," I said, "They described you both like superheroes or something."

"... " Grandma mixed lemon juice, sugar, and eggs, creating a fresh and tender custard. She asked softly, "So, have we disappointed you?"

I was poking holes in the pie crust and nearly distracted enough to poke my own hand. "How could you be a disappointment? It's just that stories from others always have some element of exaggeration."

For instance, my grandparents are not omnipotent. For instance, they can also make mistakes in weighing their decisions.

"Alright," Grandma said thoughtfully, "Well, I haven't talked to you about it yet..."

She began, stating that everything started with a lie, a case that spanned half of their lives and consumed almost all of their energy. The initial point was quite ordinary.

"Is it the one where you took me to play at Tropical Land?"

Not just Tropical Land. In the memories that followed, there were shadows of places I had been to, such as Beika Central Hospital, the summer festival, and the Tokyo Tower. The events experienced by Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran together grew more and more, until finally, she realized that the boy with round glasses was her boyfriend.

"Do you just forgive him like that?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "Your grandpa and I, we've made a lot of mistakes... in the end, we're just ordinary people."

The ordinary proposal, ordinarily giving birth, struggling to take care of their daughter in the intervals between work, wanting to protect her world from being destroyed but always falling short. Cases solved, the exciting ones get written and reported, and the ones with no follow-up are pondered in the late hours of the night, sometimes waking up the sleeping person beside, two people brooding together. Losing some people, and gaining others in their lives.

Beika is a complex and three-dimensional city, dangerous, yet stamped with layers of intertwined memories. Over seventy years, piled into thick heaps like snow, starting with Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran, then becoming a family of three. Later, the daughter leaves, and the granddaughter occasionally returns, like a migratory bird. In the photos, those two young people who were once at a loss gradually turned into elderly figures who now admit their shortcomings, narrating to me the dark and bright years.

The oven signaled that it was time. I watched as my grandma poured the lemon custard into the pie crust, creating a complete lemon pie.

"Wait until tomorrow, take this to your mom," she said softly.

Fin.